I am not the healthiest person you will ever meet.  I have asthma, migraines, sinuses that drive me crazy from October to May, some strange auto-immune stuff going on and, on top of all of that, I don't sleep much.  I am a blast at parties!  Call me!

I'm halfway kidding, because I am a blast (I'm modest too), but one of the worst things about being sickly is that your friends have to deal with it.

Sure, last year's swine flu/pneumonia/suspected pulmonary embolism stopped my husband and his dad from leaving for a weekend trip and my mom was the one who rushed me to the emergency room when my doctor thought I was coming down with my SECOND case of viral meningitis, but it's different when you have to put a friend out.

Like the time when I got a concussion a couple of years ago and my husband was out of town or when I went on my annual girls' weekend and ended up with a migraine that made me so sick that I couldn't keep my anti-nausea meds down.  I'm sure that watching me get IV drugs wasn't on my friends' lists of things to do when they were away from their kids for a few days.

But, maybe all of this happens to me for a reason.  Maybe it's to show me that I have amazing friends, or to prove to the world that there really are good people who care about each other; or care for me...same difference.

In addition to being a creative outlet, a place where I have connected with other parents of children with medical issues, and being the board off of which I dove into a new line of work, blogging is a bonus because it has enlarged the group of people who would drive me to the hospital.

Photo courtesy of Mishelle Lane

Labels: Blissdom, Friends, Getting to Know Me, Insomnia, Photos, Tooting My Own Horn

When I was growing up, my immediate neighborhood had a handful of kids my age.  Within one block there were three boys and a girl with whom I spent many a summer night climbing trees and playing baseball.

One of the boys was a good friend and I spent a lot of time at his house.  He introduced me to Monty Python and he had a one-eyed, guinea pig.  No, that's not a euphemism.

I had so much fun at his house.  I played his keyboard (oh my goodness, NOT a euphemism!), we battled at bumper-pool and there was a time, or two hundred, when we played video games.  Geekdom rules!

Fast forward to high school where one of my best friends was a boy.  I hung out at his house so much that when he moved away for good after high school, I still hung out with his mom all the time.  She and I used to have playdates for my daughter and her granddaughter.

I had another really good male friend during college, a group of men with whom I used to work that I'm still close to and, of course, there's my ultimate best friend...my husband.  He has been with me through highs, lows, trauma, drama, thick and thin.  Mostly thick, if we're discussing my thighs anyway.  Oh, and blogging; he's been with me through that too.  He also pays our mortgage.  He's a friend with all kinds of benefits.

Every one of these guys are people that I could see for the first time in years and pick up right where we left off.  There is no judging each other about the way we look, or what kind of moms we are, or feeling guilt because our house isn't clean and theirs is, and they're the head of the PTO and just made a craft and cupcakes and let their daughter have a slumber party where Supermom blended up cauliflower and put it into the punch, but the kids don't even know they're drinking vegetables!  Men don't care.  I'm pretty sure they're lacking the superficiality gene.  Because, there totally is one.

I am lucky that I have a husband who trusts me and understands that I like beer and football as much as I like home decorating and flowers.  He has a girl-friend (that's a friend, who's a girl) who goes to hockey games with him, because she loves hockey.  I don't.
 
I feel more comfortable that he's hanging out with her than with a lot of guys I know.  No offense, fellas.

And, if you are offended and feel like you need to argue that men and women can't be friends, then me and my male, blogging bestie will take you down.  That's right.  Downtown, Buster Brown.

Photo courtesy of Angry Julie.  Word.

Either that, or I'll squish you with my chin(s).

Labels: Bllissdom, Friends, Getting to Know Me, My Better Half, Photos, Ramblings, Socializing

Labels: Family Life, Happy Holidays, My Better Half, Photos, Shameless Statements

One evening, not long after we bought our house in 1998, I was home alone when I noticed a car slow down, then stop out front.  From my bedroom window I could see two men sitting in the front seat, looking up at my house.

They pulled away, but a few minutes later they were back.  This went on a few times...them slowing, then stopping in front of the house, then pulling away, only to return again.

As dark approached, I called my husband and asked him to hurry home.  Then I called my sister-in-law, who lived nearby.  Right after I hung up with her, I stood frozen in the dark corner of my living room as I saw one of the men peeking in the window just a few feet from where I was standing.

My first call was to the police (the man was caught and arrested at the end of my street) and my second call was to my husband to tell him that I wanted a dog.  Like, now.

A month later we went to look at a litter of Labradors.  I didn't pick out the snugly pup or the one who was covering me with kisses.  I chose the dog who was pulling my purse across the driveway.

Here's a hint...when choosing a puppy, the one who pulls your purse across the driveway may also turn out to be the one who drags a 25 lb., frozen turkey out of the kitchen sink and tears it to shreds that you find all over your house.

She may be the one who gets the trash can off the kitchen counter and spreads coffee grounds and dirty diapers in every room.

She could be the dog that you refer to as, "The Shark" because she eats everything in sight, including the entire box of doughnuts belonging to the construction workers down the street, a 12 inch tall, solid-chocolate bunny, a breast pad, and a ham shank that makes her leave piles of diarrhea and vomit all over the house. 

Also, that mess might just be discovered on your 30th birthday AND be smelled all the way from your garage.  Your detached garage.

Did I mention that she may jump the fence and run away frequently too?  So, you'll have that going for you.

But, she might also be the dog who fiercely protects you and viciously barks at anyone who even looks at your yard.  She could be the one thing that makes you feel safe in your own home, because you know she wouldn't let anyone hurt you.

She may be the most loyal partner you could ask for, but once you have a baby she leaves your side to go lay under the crib. 

She could be one of the best dogs you ever have.

But damn, it's going to hurt your heart bad when she gets old.

Fair warning.

Labels: Creature Features, Family Life, Photos, Ramblings

A few nights ago, I had a dream that I hopped on a plane back to New York. I had my kids in tow and after our arrival in the city, we ended up in a cavernous ballroom with an ornamental ceiling and chandeliers above our heads. The room was empty, with one exception.

On the floor was a long piece of paper, plain white, roughly the width of a roll of wrapping paper. It extended about 10 feet and at the foot of it was a set of brushes and a painter's palette. Someone, a faceless someone, told us to begin painting.

At first, my kids and I stared at one another and shrugged our shoulders because we had no idea what to put on our blank canvas. When we finally began to paint, we crafted our art separately from one another. A swoosh here, a dab there, we mixed colors and techniques, blending into each other effortlessly, yet creating our own unique pieces.

We were there for quite a while and though we had worked as three individuals, we stood to find that, together, we had painted a beautiful picture. A picture that looked just like the one I'm standing next to here...

This is the artwork that was inspired by my post for the BlogHer Voices of the Year Art Gala and Auction. My friend, Melisa, snapped the above picture before I got dressed up for the evening (because, right now my friend Jill is all, "She wore jeans?") and just seconds prior to me crying so hard that my nose turned bright red.

I cried because the photo-art was, by complete chance assignment, by my friend Mishi. I cried because my post title was "Into the Light" and she beautifully captured its essence. I cried because she incorporated things that make me feel joy, things that feed my spirit, and things that mean something to me (you can see the fact that I love the sun and trees by looking at my header, which was created by the talented Courtney from Judith Shakes Designs).

I love that creativity can inspire others to be creative. I love that, together, Mishi, Courtney and I have fed off of each other. The reason that I began blogging is because I was searching for an outlet to unleash my own creativity.

The fact that it has led to fueling my dreams is simply a bonus.

Labels: BlogHer, Kids, Photos, Socializing, Tooting My Own Horn

With my trip to New York wrapped up, I have had a full day to reflect on the events of BlogHer'10.

The experience, for me, was not about the venue or the sponsors. It's not about the parties either (though I'm not going to lie, Mama Pop knows how to throw one down).

BlogHer conferences are about learning from each other, about our work, our craft and about our overall awesomeness as a community. We. Are. Awesome.

Of course, some of us are more awesome than others. There are true artists in our midst. People who ooze creativity and whose presence in a room makes the air vibrate and increases our collective intelligence because they actually make us think. And, feel. And, live.

One of those artists is Karen Walrond. She is a genius. She exudes brilliance and I feel like I am more aware of everything since I met her. Not to mention that what she said here, made me cry in all kinds of good ways.

I was so fortunate to get my own personal photo shoot on the streets of New York with Karen behind the lens. I had been in the city for almost two days before we met and had been dealing with a massive headache that would not go away. I was tense, nervous and the stress of the previous two weeks was inside my brain trying to pound its way out.

After spending time with Karen, though? My headache went away, the tension was gone and I finally breathed. She was, quite literally, the cure for what ailed me.

Thank you, Karen, for more than just this photograph. Thank you for making me feel joyous and alive. Thank you for the gift of knowing you.

Labels: BlogHer, Photos, Socializing

I got to New York less than 18 hours ago, but have already seen so much. Let's take a tour, shall we?

There are a lot of people.


There are people bathing in public. (See him down at the bottom? I didn't get close enough to see if he had any pants on. My guess? Probably not.)


There is old.


There is new.


There are tons of buildings.


And, there is an empty space in the sky where buildings used to be.

Overall, I like it here. It's hot, busy, smelly, crowded and you have to wash your feet a lot, but it's alive. Everywhere. All the time.

Labels: BlogHer, Photos

Five cans of green, spray paint: $24.00.

Two gallons of white, ceiling paint: $38.00.

One box of sand for texturizing: $4.00.

Ending up with one white toe and permanent flip-flops: Priceless.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos, Ramblings

When you have children, a quiet house is a thing of mystery. It is rare that both of my kids will be reading at the same time and even if they are, there is bound to be an argument. "Stop making so much noise when you turn the page! Gosh!"

Not to mention the fact that silence usually equals trouble. When my daughter was younger and playing quietly it inevitably meant she was cleaning her tea party set. Though it wasn't so much cleaning as it was pouring water all over the bathroom floor. To wipe it up, she would use every hand towel we owned.

My son is never quiet. He talks to his toys, to the TV and to me. A lot. So, when he was playing upstairs with friends the other night and I couldn't hear him, I should have known something was up. I'm just glad he used tape and not glue.

Notice the complete lack of facial movement. A smile would have likely pulled his eyelashes out.

Labels: Kids, Photos

This is the letter that my son wrote for Father's Day. Clearly, he will be a famous card-maker someday. Hey, Hallmark...call me.

Labels: Photos, Shameless Statements

So, you know how your husband's transmission needs to be repaired and the bill is over $2000, and that same night you realize that your refrigerator stopped working, and then then next day your car won't start and you can't even get your hood open, so you have to wait for AAA to come rescue you, and then your dog jumps up to get a ball off of the mantle, because that's where balls belong, and she knocks down your big picture and a crystal candle holder, you know...the one that's part of a pair...and there are glass shards everywhere, but that's okay because you have plenty of time to pick them up since the refrigerator repairman said he'd be there sometime between 8:00 and 5:00?

Yeah. Me too.

Labels: Creature Features, Photos, Question of the Day

Labels: Photos, Ramblings, The Places in My Neighborhood

My husband's birthday was Tuesday. One of his favorite meals is beef stroganoff made from a family recipe. It's the same stroganoff he ate when he was growing up and since he's creeping up on 40, I thought it best to try and make him feel like a kid again. Also, does anyone else feel that I'm aging myself by talking about stroganoff? Oh good, everyone then.

After work on Tuesday, I managed to straighten up the house, wrap presents and make dinner. My husband got off work early so he could celebrate with the kids before an evening meeting and once 6:00 pm rolled around, the whole family was hungry and the table was set for a nice, family meal.

Until my son sat down, saw my creation and said, "Ew! Throw up!"

Labels: Family Life, How to Lose Readers, Kids, My Better Half, Photos, Shameless Statements

We have great neighbors. Really, I just love them. One of them is my boss. I love her the most. What? I can be shameless if I want to.

The neighbors immediately to our east are wonderful too. They take great care of us. And by take care of us, I mean bring us cupcakes and cookies and homemade jelly.

Not to mention that they have one of the most beautiful yards on the street. Just last night I opened a window and a lovely floral aroma wafted into my kitchen. No air freshener necessary!

But, the best thing is that there is no competition between us. I mean no competition. At all. As in, none. Here is proof of that...

These are their hostas.

These are mine. See those little green stubs? But, look! Mulch!

This is their pretty, potted plant.

These are mine. Oh, okay! These are last year's potted plants which are still sitting on my patio.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos

Once upon a time there was a mistress named Momo who had two kids and a second set of kids who liked to do things like drink toilet water, eat squirrel poop and steal hamburgers right off the grill. That second set of kids are of the canine variety, though it is true that Momo's daughter also drank toilet water. Just that one time.

One day, Momo had the opportunity to attend a pet-blogging conference where she could meet a lot of wonderful writers, and pet owners, and companies with representatives who might just know what you can put on one dog's food to make the other dog stop eating its poop.

Momo's dogs were quite happy about this event! They were hoping that mistress Momo would bring home some treats, and some more treats, but more than anything they hoped she would come home and just throw the dang ball already.

Labels: Creature Features, Photos

Holidays make for interesting conversations around our house. Trying to explain the importance of July 4th became so challenging that I simply started referring to it as, "America's Birthday".

Lent was also a complex discussion, but nowhere near as tough as the triduum (the three holy days before Easter). Throw in a Resurrection and you'll have one confused seven year old.

I thought I did my best. Before we left for Holy Thursday Mass, I told my son that he would see the priest wash the feet of some chosen parishioners. I think this is one of the most beautiful and solemn ceremonies we have. It is a touching thing to be reminded that Jesus did this for his disciples.

My son, however? Not so solemn. Because when he smelled incense and saw smoke rising near the altar he turned to me and asked, "Mom? Is the priest making people's feet stinky?"

Then at lunch yesterday I was sure he had grasped the meaning of Easter when he enthusiastically announced, "I can't believe Jesus is risen!" Then he took a French fry and drew a picture of the Crucifixion in his ketchup.

Maybe all of this is my fault. I couldn't help but think so when I was downloading pictures last night. We took the kids to the park on Saturday for an Easter egg hunt where kids were dressed in their spring finest. My son, however, was wearing a Napoleon Dynamite shirt...with cinnamon roll swiped on it. Clearly, he was not happy about this. Or, he had to poop.


And, despite the fact that I have roughly 80 wicker, one cloth and at least three plastic Easter baskets in my basement, my son was using a plastic bag. Note to self: Plastic bags are not good for egg hunts which have 6000 eggs disappear in 20 seconds. By the time you get the bag open, the eggs are gone and then you have a very sad, seven year old who only got one egg.

Labels: Happy Holidays, Photos, Ramblings

Things that make me happy:

1. Easter.

2. Sunshine during spring break.

3. This surprise bouquet I received the other day. These flowers are pretty to look at and smell delightful.


Things that make me unhappy:

1. My dog, Daisy, who gets chronic staph infections and, this spring, threw in a yeast infection for good measure.

2. Vet bills totaling more than $800.00.

3. This shaved, yeast-infected neck. It does not look pretty and does not smell delightful.

Labels: Creature Features, Photos

This is me from the April issue of Ladies Home Journal magazine. That's right, I'm officially published.

Sure it's only 150 words, and it's pretty much the last page in the magazine, and in this picture I look like I'm straining under the weight of 25 pounds of meat, because I AM, and the roast on top kept rolling around, and all that balancing and lifting made me look like I need a laxative, and they edited out the burners on my stove, but not my flabby arms, and I look as pale as Eddie Munster, and people at work didn't even recognize me because I wasn't wearing my glasses. But, it's Ladies Home Journal, people!

And, at the very least, my kitchen was really clean for about 20 minutes.

If you want to pick up a copy, it's the one with Brooke Shields on the front. Which is kind of awesome, because now Brooke and I are like this. I gave her tips on posing.

Why was I in the magazine? Why was my kitchen clean for once? The back story is here. And, when you're done reading that, go read these.

Being Michael's Daddy, Suburban Scrawl, World of Weasels, A Look on the Random Side, Code Monkey Daddy, Double the Fun, Real Men Drive Minivans, Beautiful Wreck, Half Past Kissin' Time, D is for Dad, Nuclear Family Warhead, Joeprah, Big Bad Daddy Rant, Dear Mr. Man, The Busy Dad Blog, Get Off the Ground, The Devoted Dad, Knee Deep in Kids and Surprised Mom.

Because if not for them, I wouldn't have been juggling that roast.

Labels: Photos, Ramblings, Tooting My Own Horn

I am not going to lie; I like nice things. However, I pride myself on being a bargain shopper through e-bay, Craigslist and various discount stores. I have bought a room-sized area rug for $200.00, Pottery Barn lamps for $2.50 each (from Pottery Barn) and have no qualms about buying designer clothes at thrift stores. I like nice things, but I like to be cheap about it.

Unfortunately, when my husband and I bought our house in 1998 it was in sore need of rehab. There were yellow plastic tiles on all sides of the kitchen, including the ceiling. All of the bathrooms had linoleum, the foundation needed jacked up and there were trees growing through the patio cement.

We were both working full-time at good jobs and were plugging along on the renovations slowly, when I found out I was pregnant. Suddenly, we were rushed...and decidedly less wealthy...because I would soon be staying home with a new baby. We didn't even have the money for discount items. We had to buy clearance discount. It wasn't pretty, people.

I made many, many decisions on the fly as well. I picked out wallpaper because it was in stock, not because I liked it. I bought carpeting off of a 5" x 5" sample at a bargain outlet. I made a lot of mistakes. Times one thousand.

This may just be the worst of them. This is the boob light that hangs on my bedroom ceiling.


We have other boob lights in the house, but I see this one every morning when I wake. It stares at me whenever I lie in bed and despite searching e-bay and Craigslist and every other site I can for a chandelier to hang in its place, I have not yet been successful. In 12 years.

I hate this light. From the bottom of my bosom.

Labels: House of Horrors, Photos, Ramblings, Things I Would Change

Labels: Kids, Photos