For Christ's Sake

Sophie has been invited to a Primary activity.

Of my vast readership, (you know--all 10 of you) I'm assuming that about 4 of you know what that means, and maybe half that know what it means to me.

Basically, Primary is the children's section of the LDS (Mormon) church. Primary is where Mormon kids go on Sunday to learn about Joseph Smith and following the prophet and families can be together forever and Jesus wants me for a sunbeam and genealogy and going to the temple and repentance and all that other wacked out shit.

Occasionally, the Primary has an activity during the week--something fun but definitely church related. Kids are encouraged to invite "non-member" and "inactive" friends, in order to "fellowship" them. One of the basic tenents of the LDS church is "Every member a missionary."

So--yesterday, when Emily's mom came to pick her up, she asked, very sweetly, if Soph wanted to go with Em to the Primary activity tomorrow/today. PROBABLY Em's mom assumed that we're LDS. PROBABLY she was being her very sweet self and just wanted Em to have someone to hang out with. OR she caught on to the fact that I'm a Mormon in Recovery and thought she'd do her part to get me back in the fold--via my daughter.

Erik's mom asked a while back if she could start taking Soph to church. I said, in my head, not only no but HELL NO. Out loud, I said, thanks, but no thanks. What I should have said, to steel some writing from a little fiction I've been working on is, "Look you guys, I appreciate all you've done for me and for Soph, but frankly, I think your religion is crazy. It's oppressive toward women, and creates an environment of hypocrisycy and duplicity. Plus, Joseph Smith was a total sociopath, and Brigham Young did it ALL for the nookie. Your god is an asshole. Mine? Well, she's a little more understanding. "

From here on out, it's just going to get worse and weirder. I remember being in church, and thinking of the poor kids whose parents were inactive, how we would try and call them, and include them, and kind of feel sorry for them, and think we were all benevolent and so doing the right thing. It makes me want to absolutely hurl to think of anyone thinking of Sophie in that way.

On the other hand--she would be out of the house, and out of my hair for most of the afternoon.

Say AHHH

I finally got Sophie to the dentist today. The news is not good. She has cavities. And cavities on top of those cavities. And other cavities having a kegger on top of those cavities. I was pretty sure the dentist was going to either give me a wedgie or call the authorities. But he didn't. I was a bit shocked at the diagnosis, even knowing about the gagillion bottles I let her have in bed, as I don't have a single filling in my mouth--never had a cavity. We had fluoride in the water, I guess. Her father's genes must be to blame.

Soph was pretty good. The x-rays were tricky, but they managed to get a picture of at least one side of her mouth. The side with an ass load of cavities. The dentist was, actually, a total champ with Soph, showing her all the stuff, letting her hold a mirror to watch, talking to her the whole time in her language, and keeping her calm. So--now we take her back to start the fillings. If all goes well, they'll just work on her teeth there. If not, we drive to St. George (the big city) where they'll knock her out and take care of them all in one fail swoop. What is a fail swoop? Mysterious. Soph was very impressed with the TV on the ceiling, the Disney princess flosser, and the new Incredibles toothbrush. But then again, she's pretty easy to impress.

Currently, Sophie and her pal Emily (a school friend. Who I LOVE because she is the oldest of 3 and is sweet and capable and actually said to me, "I love to share") are watching Strawberry Shortcake Berry Merry Christmas. Next on the agenda is a cherry picking excursion at the neighbor's house, which will be followed by fingernail painting.

Just another day. But all in all, a pretty good one--other than the cavities of course.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Girly stuff--fingernail painting, summer dresses

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Dentist disapproval

Wedding Flowers "before" 1

Wedding flowers "before" 2

Pretty Maids--Also, you can't see Jen in this one, but you can kind of see her bouquet.

Down the aisle

Karaoke Kaper

Getting grumpy

Catching Up

As the title suggests--well, doesn't suggest, just freakin' says point blank--I have a lot to catch up on.

The day before yesterday, my girl Jennifer and pal Paul got married. I took care of the flowers--which, I hope, came out ok. There was a huge problem, as HALF of the flowers we ordered didn't arrive. So-- NEVER EVER order flowers from these guys as they are total douche bags and weren't even slightly sorry for fucking up and I have cursed them with boils and plagues and other bad bad things. So--Jen and her sister flew around town buying random flowers from grocery stores, etc., brought the flowers to me, and I made flower magic. We were going for a wild-flower look, and so I bought, borrowed, and stole tons of old mason jars. Mandy was here for the wedding, and she was a peach about the flowers, wrapping and wiring about a gazillion gerbera daisys while I just kind of piled the flowers in jars, tied the bouquet and wrapped daisy garlands for the flower girls. I took before pictures, but forgot to take afters. Hopefully someone from the wedding will send me some pictures and I'll share them with y'all later.

Now then, a word or two about the meeting of Jen and Paul. Jen and I go way back, but Paul and I go way backer. I really don't have the time to go into all the intricacies of small town romance and who did what to whom and when, but the quick breakdown goes like this. Paul and I dated in high school. He took me to my first formal dance--his junior prom. Then he got fairly serious with my best high school friend. We also had a very brief interlude in college. While I was dating Paul, he and E were pretty good friends, plus, E was dating Jen's little sister. I didn't meet Jen until after high school, and actually, I knew her ex-husband before I knew her. Jen and I mostly met through a mutual friend, and then we did some pretty serious bonding at a Grateful Dead concert we ended up at together. This was some 11 years ago. So--Paul left Utah for parts unknown for several years, then came back to town a couple years ago. He attended a yoga class taught by Mandy, which I attended as well. After class I invited him to a little hootenany at my place, to which Jen was also invited. I could tell pretty much immediately that he was smitten with her, and wasn't surprised at all when they hit it off in a big way a few weeks later at the Jorgensen cabin. Fastforward to Saturday, a touching ceremony which strangely, included some Simon Says, a great reception including, well, not strangely, lots of karaoke, and now the happy couple are en route to Hawaii.

Soph was a darling flower girl, but probably because of the heat, half dozen cream puffs, and the excitement, she ended up throwing up half the night--unfortunately (well, somewhat fortunately) at my mother's house. She was pretty pukey on Sunday, and I was exhausted because of the flowers and other wedding related stuff, so we took it pretty easy. Yesterday I was still exhausted, and today I'm pretty living dead again, so I think that maybe the Epstein Barr is poking it's insidious little head back up.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Can't think of much. She's a whining, crying, screaming mess today. I think I may have to reinstate the nap. Either that or run away from home. Guess that was the worst thing. Oh well.

I think it's too late to blog about the cabin trip. It's tricky to remember what happened yesterday, let alone three or four days ago. What I do recall is that I learned to play euchre, and KICK ASS at it, and I also learned to play horseshoes, and pretty much suck ass at it. So--here are a few pictures in lieu (is that right?) of the promised post.


In further news, my period was late, but finally arrived. My poor husband had to deal with both a pregnancy scare and PMS this month. After getting cussed at for calling my period "the rod" he asked what he should call it. 10 years of marriage and he still hasn't figured this one out. He used to enquire sweetly, "So how's your menstruation going?" until I was forced to throw a very heavy book at him. Really--just don't ask. Rub my feet. Fix me a drink. Unload the dishwasher, and just don't ask.

Summer is already flying by. I love that I don't have to turn on my alarm clock before I go to sleep. I love that it takes me a minute to figure out what day of the week it is, and that I pretty much have no idea what the date is. June is always my "free month" and I don't start freeking out about all the shit I need to get done until July. However, I am happy to report that I am already ahead of schedule, having cleaned under my bed and under and behind my dresser. Thank you. Please hold your applause until the end of the summer.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I bought Soph and her play date some of those invisible ink books; the ones that you color over with the magic pen and, um stuff magically appears? Only these ones were truly bitchin. There were 3 magic pens. Yes.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
My sister-in-law is cashing in on the tending I owe her tomorrow. 2 of her three boys (2 and 6) will be spending most of the day tomorrow. Drat.

Tree Golf? YES!

Ever played tree golf? Apparently, it is the woodland sport of boy scouts and stoners world wide. Who knew? All you need are some scouts, stoners, or other participants with little to nothing to do, a stick for each, and, well, trees. Someone picks a tree, then everyone hucks their sticks at it. The idea is to hit the tree with your stick in as few hucks as possible. Whoever has the fewest hucks wins. Oh. Beer helps.

More highlights from our somewhat eventless trip to the Jorgensen family cabin tomorrow.

My shitty (at some points, literally) day

6:15 Wake-up call from Soph--who, by the by, went to bed at 10:00 last night. 8 hours of sleep is NOT enough for a 3 year old.
6:15-6:45 Attempt to cajole, soothe, reason with Sophie that her body needed more rest, and try to get her back to sleep.
6:45 Give up, yell at E for waking up Soph while getting ready for work (sorry babe), put in a Care Bears video in the living room, and go back to bed.
7:30 Drag tired ass out of bed, remember that I'm tending Soph's pal A this morning before and after school, and that I've promised the girls a "pajama breakfast party."
7:30-8ish Enlist sweet step-son Janzen to look after Soph, and go to the store to buy eggs, as are out, sausage, strawberries, and mini-muffins.
8ish-9ish (assume "ish" at the end of all times hence forth) Fix breakfast, help Soph set the table
9:00-10:00 Feel very annoyed as A does not arrive, as Soph is hungry, breakfast is getting cold, and Soph will not eat without A. Make one call to A's mom and am assured that A is en route. Janz and I pass time by blowing bubbles for Soph to pop.
10:00-10:30 Eat late, cold breakfast when A arrives (finally) Accidentally consume 2 strawberries and 2 mini muffins because distracted by Capri Sun shenanigans.
10:30-11:40 Let girls take a bubble bath together. Find swimming suits for both as today is water day at school and A's mom (who I love. I really really do love. Just a bad day.) forgot. Dress girls with suits under clothes. Gather towels, sunscreen, etc. Herd girls and Janz into car.
11:45 Drop girls off at yoga camp (coin the phrase yoginni-ettes) and arrange car pool from yoga camp to school which has been pushed from 12:00 to 12:45 as most of students are in yoga until 12:30.
11:45-12:45 Shop with Janz for necessary components to super-terrific-homemade-yet-bitchin' Father's Day gift.
12:45-2:00 Attend counseling session with E which focuses on my lack of self esteem and tendency toward perfectionism. Much bawling by me and supportive patting by E.
2:00-2:55 Go home, feed Janz lunch, work on STHYBFDG with Janz.
3:00 Pick up girls from school
3:05 Arrive home, and, fuck, Bianca is in her front yard, sees the girls, and runs over to play. (Not that I don't like Bianca, but Soph is dead tired and for some reason, those 3 girls turn into screeching messes when they try and play together.)
3:05-3:30 Unload dishwasher, work on STHYBFDG, and assure B's mom that it's no problem for B to play while she does some errands and pray the girls, who are playing in the back yard, will not begin fighting.
3:30 Check on the girls and discover they have industriously moved all of the sand from the sand box into the red wagon. Note that the fighting has begun.
3:30-3:35 Set up the dome tent in the back yard as effort to keep girls from ripping each other limb from limb
3:35-3:50 Ferry cheese and crackers, pb&j, juice, barbies and little ponies out to tent
3:55 intervene, as heard Sophie squealing like howler monkey from in the house. Promise Soph a spank and/or time out if she can't be nice.
4:00-4:15 Bodily remove Soph from tent, and attempt to discuss rationally with her the fact that she cannot expect her friends to want to play with her if she won't let them play with her things. Rational discussion turns into time-out when Soph blows a huge raspberry in my face. Screaming, kicking, hitting. Call A's mom and ask/beg her to come get her daughter.
4:15-4:20 Think longingly of being in a classroom filled with surly teenagers.
4:21 A's mom arrives. One down, 2 to go.
4:22 Bianca announces that she has pooped in her pants.
4:22-4:30 Deal with poop, poop that I am not genetically or otherwise responsible for. Stupid poop
4:30 Break out the big guns--the play, but real, make-up. Tell Soph and B that as long as they don't fight, they can play with the make-up, in Soph's room, for as long as they'd like. Decide I don't actually care if B's mom is ok or not ok with her daughter making herself up as a harlot.
4:30-5:00 Blessed Quiet
5:00 Bianca's mom's jeep pulls into the driveway! Woot! Then... it... pulls... out... and... drives... away... again. WHAT THE FUCK!!!????

update: B's mom returned--at 6:00--after I finally called her cell

A packet of what?

I may have mentioned this before, but at Soph's school, the kids have made up their own swear word. It's apparently the meanest thing you can call someone at Dayspring Montessouri. Hold on to your hats folks--the word is... PeePee Nony. (rhymes with--um--"see see pony") Imagine some kid running up to you to tattle, "Angelica called me a PeePee Nony!"

Flash back to about 3 weeks ago. We invited my bro and his wife to come hang out at the Jorgensen family cabin for the afternoon. Soph mentioned to Jon that Rennin--one of her nemesees at school, had called her the dreaded PeePee Nony. After laughing his ass off for a while, Jon--in perfect uncle form--suggested to Sophie that when Rennin calls her a PeePee Nony, she should say to him, "Oh yea? Well you have a nice pair of bosoms." Ah, uncles.

Flash forward to this morning at breakfast. Janzen called Sophie some ridiculous name. Sophie responded, "Oh yea? Well you have a packet of bosoms."

The previous, along with her new dance, The Rattlesnake, (Hands over her head, palms touching, wiggling her butt and arms, and making a rolled "r" kind of sound) is contributing to my feeling a bit better about motherhood today. Of course, it's only 9:19, so who knows what the day holds?

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Sunday morning snuggles

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Wondering what her teachers must think

It's Tricky (Not to rock a rhyme--to be a mom)

I'm enjoying being Soph's mom less and less lately. (She said, then gasped at how awful it sounded.) It's harder and harder to find fun/funny things to say about her, because she's less fun and funny. We're staring down the barrel of four, and I find that I'm really missing her younger days.

Granted, she's less time consuming. I can leave her in the tub without fearing that she'll drown. (Side note. Day before yesterday, I went to put her in the tub. She said the water was too hot. I said, no, it's fine. She said, "So you think it's fine do you? Well how about this?" and proceeded to flick me right in the forehead. I think she was channeling Jack Burton.) She can play in the back yard. When a friend comes over, I can set them up in the basement with a movie and some snacks and leave them be. (You know--if every 5 minutes I'm willing to get more snacks, break up the fight over who is the Swan Princess, and change the video.)

BUT, she wants me to play with her, and when I try to, it's just not very fun. She constantly dictates to me precisely what to say when playing--playing things I don't want to play. This morning I had to be Rosie and she was Caillou, and fuck dude, how painful is that? I WANT to interact with her, but lately it's just not meshing. I bought a big box of those fuzzy posters for us to color together--you know those ones you thought were so cool when you were little that your mom would never buy? Strawberry Shortcake no less. She lasted about 2 minutes, and then started whining for me to do this or get that. She tattles, she whines, she spits, she swears. She's never satisfied with the amount of fun she's having.

Plus, she's heavy as fuck, and lately wants me to carry her--which I can't because of my back. I tried to take her and Jimmy to the park the other day; she rode her bike. Then for some reason I still can't fathom, she had a melt-down of massive proportions. Screaming, crying, kicking. She wouldn't move. So I walked us home--just a block--but I was carrying her with one arm, while the other arm managed the dog's leash and the bike. Torture.

She alternates between being throwing fits over being "a big girl" when there's something she knows damn well she's not big enough to do--you know, drive the car and such, or being "too little" when she needs to pick up her blocks, get undressed for the bath, or eat something that's not orange or fried.

I just don't enjoy our time together as much anymore, and it makes me feel very, very sad. Kind of guilty too. She pisses me off and drives me crazy. She's demanding and sometimes down right mean. She whines and whines and if I let her, she'd go through about 80 band aids a day. Obviously we're going to "grow apart" in the years to come as she needs me less and less. And I know that's natural and good. I had just thought the growing wouldn't be because we don't WANT to spend time together. I'm thinking I went very, very wrong somewhere.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Reading My Monster Mommy Loves Me

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Kind of, well, not liking your kid (my room in Hell is now assured.)

Just Because

Because I have a counter full of groceries, and because I need to get the kabobs made and marinating, like now, and because I promised myself I'd clean out Soph's drawers and because I had planned on doing all of these things while Soph was at school--and I pick her up in 55 minutes, I guess I'll blog instead. But only for 10 minutes.

First of all, congratulations to Katy for losing her karaoke cherry--AT A REAL BAR! (ok--tavern, but we've been over that.) After a lovely double dinner "date" with the Katester and Sean (the karaoke DJ, E's old pal, Katy's some-time LDS chat pal--Don't look at me--I don't know the fucker) we headed to Celebrities again for some karaoke madness. I'm thinking that this summer Wednesdays will be officially spent in much that same manner. Katy started out with an absolutely inspired "Walkin After Midnight" with some moves that made me quite proud. I love after her first number, the first thing she said when she sat down was, "What should I sing next?" What she did sing next was "One Way or Another" and, again, nailed it.

I, personally went with "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" (again with the walkin'), "Son of a Preacher Man," and my offical number of the evening, which I did practice, thank you very much, in the mirror in the living room, using Soph's Strawberry Shortcake Happy Meal prize as a microphone, was "I Want You to Want Me." I even got some clap along from the crowd on that one.

Shit. 3 Minutes left. Soph was grumpy as hell when she woke up this morning. The inner brat is kind of raging lately, and apparently, I am NEVER going to her party OR be her friend OR play with her Baby Bratz (Grandma bought it. I am going to loose it, like soon.) We went to the thrift store for a bit today, and I scored a ton of white Christmas lights with which I am going to bedeck my back patio. I also got one of those light-net-things, and am going to try and kind of suspend it a few inches from the ceiling. Time's up.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Being consitered very generous for dropping 25 cents on a set of used poster paints, and letting her paint an old cardboard box with them


Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Being consitered a huge bitch for not letting her pee, naked, in the front yard

No time for spell check! Bye!

Rats

Can one addendum an addendum?

I'm realizing now that I was pretty unclear last time. You see, it was my husband who "ripped me a new one" and no, it wasn't about the posting, it was about the puking.

He's seen me go through this for, oh 10 years now, and is pretty passionate about it. HE read my blog as a cry for help, and thought I was being pretty blase about it. He was NOT angry with me for "going public" but for being self destructive, again

E watched me drop 50+ pounds 2 years ago, and watched me come pretty close to killing myself while doing it. Thing is guys--I LOVED being skinny. I LOVED being a member of the skinny-girls' club--tucking my shirts in and everything. Now--having been out of the club for almost a year, I want back in. That want overrules my better sense. E knows that. It scares him--more than it scares me.

Bulimia is about weight loss to a certain degree, but mostly it is about control. Trying to stay in control when really, you've pretty much lost it. Trying to, um, have your cake and eat it too. Things have been feeling pretty out of control for me--with my health shit, etc. It makes sense that combining that with these extra pounds is going to be pretty risky.

So, thanks ever so for the kindness, and for the righteous indignation on my behalf. E and I continue to have our struggles, but one thing we have never struggled with is how much he loves me, and how determined he is to care about the fucked-up stuff I sometimes do.

Again, I put the last post up because so much of eating disorder shit is that it's between, well, you and you. No one notices that you're all hammered, like an alcoholic. And particularly with bulimia, people don't notice that you're not eating, or loosing weight excessively, because they do see you eat, and the weight loss, let's face it, isn't that great. Bulimia is about hiding and about control. I'm trying not to hide, and trying to admit that the control--well, I really don't have it.

Ready...Set...GO! No--Stop. Ok--NOW Go.

Addendum: After posting the following, I was kind of ripped a new one by one who shall remain annonymous (not you Katy). As a result, I had second thoughts about it, and took it down. I didn't want my words to be misconstrued as either a cry for help, (Which they are not. A cry for help would read more like, "Help! Help!.") or as me trying to be light about something which is kind of, umm, heavy (That would be like, "Hey guys! This 1,000 pound bolder is kind of light!). Here's the thing guys. I'm a bulimic--in recovery. I don't understand totally why this particular disorder parked itself in my life. Surely I couldn't have anything to do with it. In some ways, eating disorders, I think, are harder to kick than, say heroin. When I got off the junk, it was easy. I just said--no more heroin guys--none in the house, no more for the kids, no one bring any home from Albertsons, and we're not stopping by the smack shack on the way home any more either. But with the eating shit, you can't just stop. I tried that too. You have to eat. People around you eat. There is food fucking EVERYWHERE. So--on my current diet, (day 2 now) I slipped. The reason I posted about it is I want to own up to it. I don't want to act like it didn't happen. I know it's not a good choice. There.

So—Blogger is apparently not working at all currently. Only giving myself 15 minutes to blog, so will write this up in Word, and hopefully get it up (he he) later. So—5 minutes per category, food news, Soph news, and misc. Go!

Food News

I fucked up my diet 3 times already. But—really—it’s not my fault. Soph has her “Ooey Gooey Science Lab” summer school thing from 12:00-2:30. So the last two days, I had her out in the world doing shit, and was like, “Fuck! Lunch!” Yesterday we were closest to a fast food joint, and I ended up getting her a hamburger kids meal. Dur. So—about 6 fries and 1/3 of her burger later, I realized what I was doing. THEN after school she remembered that I had promised her, like 3 days ago, that we’d make cookies. DRAT! So—I ate one peanut butter cookie. I did hit the do-over button after the burger debacle (ok—ok—I threw up. But, I am not going to any more.) Today, we were at the grocery store, and I had Soph and her pal Addison—both of whom needed to be fed lunch in the 15 minutes we had before I dropped them off. We hit the deli where I ordered 2! TWO! II! pizza sticks. I opened the bag and the lady at the deli had given us 3! THREE! III! So—yes, I ate the pizza stick, and yes, after I dropped the girls off I hit the do-over button again, but I AM NOT GOING TO DO THAT ANY MORE!

So—am currently eating celery stuffed with tuna salad for lunch. Had an egg-white omlett with some tomato and Canadian bacon for breakfast. Yesterday was lettuce roll-ups with turkey and some cottage cheese for lunch—scrambled eggs for breakfast, and teriyaki salmon and broccoli for dinner. I just popped one of those Uncle Ben’s rice bags into the microwave for E and Soph.

Damn. 10 minutes gone. We’ll skip the misc section.

Sophie News

Yesterday when I was trying to get her out the door for something she yelled at me, “But Mom! What about the prophecy!?!?” That was a bit of a stumper. She’s been playing herself crazy—with friends and school and just summer. Yesterday was SO busy. School and swimming lessons and a birthday party. The swimming lessons were not a hit. My sweet sister-in-law took her, and there were tears when I picked her up. Soph is terrified of sinking, apparently. We’ll try again on Wednesday.

Time’s UP!

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Have you ever played with Gack? It’s very weird stuff. They made it at school yesterday, and Soph brought some home. The Gack occupied most of my evening.

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
Realizing that I feed her pretty bad. Badly. Poorly. Less fast food—more slow food, is my goal for the summer.

South Beach in the Southwest

Katy and I just returned from Albertson's, where I dropped $116.00 in groceries. Groceries pretty much just for me. Well, not exactly just for me, but for my diet. Katy and I are going to start the South Beach diet on Monday, and SHE can't shop on Sunday (Love ya Katy), so, there ya have it. Tons of vegies, some lean meats, low fat cheeses, and the assorted fat free-sugar free jello type thingie

I know that "Eat less and exercise" is really the best mantra for the weight-loss crowd, but I just don't operate that way. I need the structure of a specific diet to get my ass in gear. The last time I lost weight, I started out with the South Beach and it worked really well for me. So I kind of slid into the no eating ever or eating and then hurling thing after a while, but at first, it worked pretty well. I like South Beach because it makes sense nutritionally, at least based on my limited knowledge of things nutritional, and it doesn't eliminate any major food groups.

On the flip side, even thinking of loosing weight is terrifying to me. I get pretty obsessed, weird, and also psycho. But this time, Katy will be my partner in crime, and hopefully will keep me grounded.

While shopping today, I found that I HATE saying the wordlett "carbs." So, we've decided that instead of saying "carbs" we'll say "pew," meaning, of course, poo, but pronounced in a way that is much more ridiculous and British. Instead of "fat" or "fat grams" we are going to say "bogies." Here's an example, "This salad dressing only has 3 grams of pew and no bogies."

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Today was a pretty good day. So--how about getting to 9:00 without once wishing I could turn in my mommy badge.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
So I'm sitting outside at my patio table with my family; they are over for a barbecue. Sophie is standing on my lap. She's wearing her Hello Kitty jumper. She leans over, and the fold between her fat little but and her leg smoothes out. In the fold--a gnat that had been squished by her ghetto booty.

Manic...Thursday?

Last night, E and I, along with our best couple pals Jen and Paul, finally checked out the karaoke scene at Cedar's new bar and grill--Celebrities. You see, Jen's daughter is now old enough to tend my daughter. This results in a blissful both-daughters-out-of-the-way-night-on-the-town-scenario.

So--check out the, like, 2 degrees of separation that is small town Southern Utah.

The bartender was Janzen's uncle (his mom's bro) and he is an absolute doll (thinking of maybe setting him up with Katy) and he wouldn't let me pay for any drinks. Unfortunately, because of Utah's bizarre liquor laws Celebrities is officially a "tavern" and therefore, serves only beer and "malt beverages." As I've stated before, I love the IDEA of beer, but hate to drink the nasty stuff. So, I was forced to drink about a dozen Mike's Hard Lemonaids. Yeek. I'm sure that explains the acid headache I'm trying to fight of this morning.

The Karaoke DJ--Sean Dunnivan (I'm sure I'm spelling that wrong) is one of E's old college radio pals. PLUS he has been emailing Katy a-la the LDS singles on-line dating watchamacallit, PLUS he is going to DJ Jen and Paul's wedding.

So the above "ins" led to many drinks for me, plus 3 trips to the microphone--and I could have gone up more if I'd wanted to. Because it was 80s night, I had to broaden my karaoke horizons a bit past my comfort zone. I kind of casually asked Sean if he had "Missionary Man"--Eurythmics. 2 minutes later, he announced that I was coming up next. WTF? It was a question brother, not a request. But--the song did seem particularly appropriate so I gave it a shot. Lots of repeated "Believe, Believe, Believe" in that one, plus some wacky, "Hey! Uh!" but, I don't think anyone wanted to stab out their eardrums with a pencil or anything. A while later I opted for a crowd pleaser--"Hate Myself for Loving You." Again not bad, but again trouble with the random "YOW!" My final and most successful number was, by request from some guy named Curtis, "Manic Monday." If I do say so myself, I totally nailed that one. "He tells me in his bedroom voice--Come on honey. Let's go make some noise!" BUT--the bitchinist song of the entire night was Paul's "Darling Niki." Completely inspired.

Late night+many malt liquor beverages=tired headache mommy. Soph and I were supposed to go to the dentist today at 8:00--but I totally called and canceled. It's Soph's first dentist trip, and she has a cavity (because I am the worst mother in all the land and let her have a bottle in bed, with milk no less, for, oh two years. I should be taken out into the streets and shot.) I want her first dentist trip to be as fun as possible, and just wasn't in a place to deal with that shit this morning--at all. Our agenda today includes a bangs trim from Grandma at some point, a grocery shopping trip with Aunt Katy, (We're starting the South Beach Diet.) and a water party with her soccer team at 1ish. 3 days into summer and I've come to the conclusion that full time mommying is more work than full time teaching.

Yesterday I had Soph's friend Addison for a few hours. Because I am THE BOMB fun--and pay no attention at all to the nutritional needs of my daughter and her pals, I took them to McDonalds for happy meals, THEN to the local beauty college to have their finger and toe nails painted, (tip moms--this is CHEAP and a way fun bday party for older girls) THEN to the pet store to look at the puppies and turtles, THEN to the "Rainbow Carwash" (very exciting. The girls were allowed to get out of their seats, plus this particular carwash has a bubble blowing machine, plus one phase of the wash has rainbow bubbles.)

Now for a few more ibuprophin, some coffee, and a shower.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
She's pried the top off of her Disney Princess Talking Vanity stool, and is using it for a 1 ft in diameter stage. She balances on it precariously while singing the continent song, including funny cheerleader like hand movements.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
"Mmmm. Salty!" This she announced after popping a buggar into her mouth. Eww.