TBT: A Mom's Take on Clubbing

UPDATE:  For the longest time I thought TBT meant Truth Be Told.  I have far surpassed the coolness factor of knowing what ultra hip acronyms are to little whipper snappers, but thankfully they pass grace on me.  TBT really stands for Throwback Thursday.  Which 'technically' isn't an acronym, but I can let some things slide.  Sooooo, in honor of TBT, I have an old blog post circa 2011 for you.  It does contain a lot of 'truth be tolds'  too.

In high school and college I loved to go dancing.  So. Much. Fun.  Nothing has really changed about loving to dance, except my jiggly tummy, cottage cheese thighs, and two kids.  I may love to dance, but I sure don't fit the club scene any longer (I never really did).  However, against our better judgement, my family (Steven, Rene, Lindsay, and I) decided to forgo snow tubing and hit the Power & Light District of Kansas City. 

Since we N.E.V.E.R go out like this I had to improvise my wardrobe.  Really improvise.  Earlier that day I had purchased a $6 shirt on sale at The Gap.  I bought it to layer it with a tank and my black leggings.  However, I didn't have my black tank there, BUT I did have my black pajama tank.  Problem solved!  Add it with my skinny jeans and I was good to go.  I'll even show you a pic of my $6 shirt over my pj shirt.  Before we left Lindsay and I had to practice our going-out faces...

{See that thin little black line? Yep, pj tank!}



To tell my story of our short lived night, I think I'll give it to you in characters/setting/event format. 

Characters
Amanda
Steven
Rene
Lindsay
Tatted Up Doorman
Drunk College Girl #1
Drunk College Girl #2
Big Sista
Girl KU Fan #1
Girl KU Fan #2
Girl KU Fan #3

Scene 1:
Entry to Tengo 9:30pm

Lindsay:  Excuse me, Tatted Up Doorman?  My husband left his ID at home, but his identical twin brother is here with his ID.  Will he be able to get in?

Tatted Up Doorman: What the @#$&%$?  You guys are some big ^**$%$%  @#%#%#!!!  Come on in and I got the cover charge for all of you.

End Scene

Lesson Learned: Being a twin can save you $20!  Good times.  Best part.  The twenty somethings in their barely there mini skirts had to pay to get in.  Hee hee.  I really think it was my pj tank that got him.

Scene 2:
Inside Tengo 9:35pm

(As soon as we get into Tengo, Lindsay and I are approached by two young college girls.  They were there for the Big 12 Championship basketball games.  They were cute as could be, but as cute as they were they were also very inebriated.)

Drunk College Girl #1: (continuing her fun dance moves)Hey!  What college are you guys from?

(Lindsay and I look around to see who she's talking to.  When we realize she's still looking at us, Lindsay somehow finds words outside of our astonishment.)

Lindsay: Oh.  We don't go to college.  We're moms.

Drunk College Girl #1:  (still dancing)OMG!  Drunk College Girl #2, can you believe these fine things are moms?  OMG!!!  You guys are hot.

(Lindsay and I nervously laugh.  I mean, what are you supposed to say to that???)

Me: Wow.  Thanks.

Lindsay: Yeah, thanks.  You are really sweet.

(Drunk College Girl #1 and #2 stubble away to enjoy the latest Lady Gaga song.  Lindsay and I laugh at the thought that they were drunk enough to mistake us for college girls.)

End Scene

Lesson Learned: We would fit in just fine at this club because pretty much everyone there was drunk. They wouldn't notice the moms and dads doing their 90's dance moves in the corner.  More good times.

Scene 3:
On the Dance Floor 10:00pm

(The four of us are dancing.  Well, sort of.  Rene is kind of bobbing his head, a little unsure of his rusty dance moves.  He didn't practice in the hotel room like Lindsay and I.  Fatal mistake.)

Big Sista: (turns to Steven) Didn't I see you here last week?

Steven:  No, I've never been here before in my life.

Big Sista:  I could have sworn I saw your fine self here last week.  What's your name?

Steven:  Well, you didn't, and I'm here with my wife.

End Scene

Lesson Learned:  Steven is still a chic magnet.  However, he has lost his swagger in conversation.  He pretty much shut down Big Sista.  I think he knew he wouldn't be able to handle all she had going on, so he stuck with his little white wife.

Scene 4:
Still on the Dance Floor 10:30pm

Drunk College Girl #1:  (to Lindsay and I)  AHHHHHH!  It's the moms!  Oh my gosh.  You had babies. I love you guys.

Drunk College Girl #2:  (gives Lindsay and I a hug) Uh-huh.

End Scene

Lesson Learned:  Being a mom is cool.  Being drunk makes you look stupid.

Scene 5:

Exiting Tengo 11:00pm

(Upon realizing the amount of hands reaching out for my ghetto booty, we decide to leave.  Bad decison to wear the skinny jeans.  We are all filing out of the jam packed club.  Steven and Rene are walking behind us to fend off the men.)

Amanda:  Where'd Steven go?

Lindsay and Rene:  I don't know.

(Meanwhile, Steven got caught by a group of Girl KU Fans.  He recalls the event as such...)

Girl KU Fan #1:  Hey!  Do you want to play a game with us?

Steven:  No.

Girl KU Fan #2:  Ohhhhh, you're making us sad. (Insert pouty face)

Steven:  Sorry, I'm leaving...with my wife.

Girl KU Fan #3:  Please stay.  We're gonna cry.  Whaaaaaa!

Steven:  Sorry.  Bye

End Scene

Lesson Learned:  Steven is no longer allowed out of my sight.  Ever.  He's just too darn sexy.  Even for a daddy of 2.

The rest of the night is spent outside the main hub of the Power & Light District.  After spending a good 30 minutes laughing at the people young and old making fools of themselves we decide to call it a night at 11:30.  We were tired.  It was Daylight Savings and we needed our sleep so we could wake up and return home to our babies.

Lesson Learned From the Entire Night: We are very thankful for our non-eventful life.  I cannot imagine doing that every Friday and Saturday night.  It was fun to spend an evening with R & L and my darn sexy husband, but I think we got our 10 year fix.  I wonder how we'll look in our ripe old age of 40 hitting the clubs?

Lessons From a Garage Sale

On rare occasions do lesson of life hit me so hard it alters my life.  There have been moments where I have experienced so much clarity that I have been broken.  Then there are times where lessons bring me clarity and I am disgusted.  The lesson I am about to share with you is a lesson of shock.

Late Thursday night I decided to throw some items into my friend's garage sale.  I was so exhausted, but dragged myself up in the attic to pull down all the baby equipment our family has out grown.  I really thought I would just put those things in the sale, but come Friday morning I found myself searching through my bathroom for items I needed to get rid of.

After 33 years of living on this Earth, I know two things.  People are crazy, and crazy people buy crazy stuff.  With these two things in mind, I emptied out my Bath & Body Works drawer of all the half empty lotions and sprays that had been sitting there for, I kid you not, over 6 years.  

Guess what?  It all sold.  Each half empty, 6 year old bottle for $1 each.

If you think that's bad, then you really need to brace yourself.  I also put used deodorant in the garage sale.  Last year I had purchased Steven 2 Right Guard deodorants with coupons for free.  He tried both of them one time and didn't like them.  Since they were no longer new I couldn't donate them, so they just sat in our cabinet.  I couldn't bring myself to throw them away.

As I was cleaning out the cabinet, I reached in and grabbed those deodorants and chuckled.  I honestly thought, "This will be funny to see if anyone will buy these."

Guess what?  They sold!  Unfortunately, I wasn't there to see the man who purchased them.  I wish I had a time travel machine so I could go back in time and be there for that transaction.  Oh who am I kidding?  It was best I wasn't there.  I would have died laughing that someone purchased my husband's used deodorant. Hopefully there wasn't any leftover black armpit hairs!

My life lesson is this...

Never underestimate the power of a garage sale-er.  They will purchase anything.  Therefore, the seller should put anything in the sale.  Even used personal products.

Little Changes Add Up

So me and my booty crawled out of a perfectly warm bed at 5:10am.  I always question my sanity when I wake up with a '5' on the clock.  I'm more like and '7' kinda gal.  If you had asked me even 6 months ago if I'd be willing to get up at 5:10 on my own free will once a week, I would have laughed in your face.  Laughed hard.  Early is just not me.

It's funny how things change.  I still like my sleep, but I like my family a whole lot more.  I also like feeling good about my appearance.  Therefore, I find myself getting up earlier throughout the week to get my workout in without missing out on family time.  It was a big little change I was willing to make.

This getting up early stuff also makes me think about the way Steven and I used to eat.  We've been married for almost 10 years now.  I've been feeding that man for quite some time.  Looking at the way I used to cook compared to how I cook now is very different.  Different in a good way.  Used to Steven and I would hit the gym for a couple of hours and then come home and heat up chicken nuggets and fries, or pick up Taco Bueno or something fast on the way home.

Then I became pregnant with Little Man.  It took us almost a year to get pregnant so I wanted to make sure I did everything possible for this little baby.  I looked at my diet.  Goodness, it was bad.  I was skinny.  I had muscle definition, but I ate junk!  I started making little changes.  First thing to go was the frozen foods. Our dinner meals no longer consisted of things you could heat up.  I wouldn't say we were eating well then, but I did begin to focus on my servings of fruits and vegetables.  One fruit, one veggie per meal plus no freezer meals. It was a fairly easy change.

While making changes to my diet, I began taking a Power Yoga class.  I was about 7 months preggo and had done well with the little changes, but chips were still on my plate with every lunch (I love chips).  As we were striking the child's pose and getting ready to Namaste, the instructor who just had a baby herself began to share how she got her body back after baby.  She mentioned my beloved chips.  Her comment was something like this...

I had to cut out the chips.  Now if I need a crunch I grab a few slices of bell pepper.

And that my friends is when I looked at that lady like she had done lost her ever loving mind.  Chips, bell pepper.  Not the same thing.  Good for her, but I was still gonna munch on my BBQ and Sour Cream and Onion.

That was 6 years ago, and guess what?  I now munch on my bell peppers and have chips maybe once a week as an after meal treat.  I fill my plate with 2/3 veggies and fruit, 1/3 protein, 1/3 carb (whole grain).  If I still have a craving for chips after lunch, then I don't deny myself.  I'll have a few, but usually I'm not hungry after lunch so there's no need for the junk.  

I try really hard not to look at what I'm not eating, but what I am eating.  I focus on filling up on fruits and veggies first, then filling my plate with other items.  For me, it takes away the stress of 'eating right'.  And, when I want a good old fashion comfort meal (chock full of calories), I don't beat myself up about it because I know I didn't eat that way the whole day.  Just one meal out of a big, long week.

1. 

   Lunch Today...crackers aren't whole grain though...oops

I'm not even sure if this helps you, but I want you to know that I wasn't always the crazy bell pepper lady.  I simply began making little changes to the way I prepared food and ended up here.  Holy cow!  I wonder where I'll be in 10 more years. Maybe I'll be one of those people who live solely off the land...NAH!!!!

GNO...Aye, Aye, Aye

GNO=Girls Night Out

GNO+Amanda Torres=A Whole Lotta Work

Let me make one thing clear.  I love my friends.  Love them.  They are all so different, but so loving and fun. I enjoy the time I get to spend with them, and last night I got 4 uninterrupted hours with some of my closest friends.

Let me make one more thing clear.  I hate getting ready for GNO.  Even though I'm going to spend time kidless with women who really accept me and all my craziness, prepping the family before I leave is time consuming. 

About three hours before I was supposed to leave, I started getting myself and the house ready for my departure.  I cleaned up, fixed my hair and nails(gasp!), and ironed my clothes.  Meanwhile, I'm starting on dinner for Steven and the kids.  Running back and forth from my bathroom to the kitchen.  Chunky Monkey and Little Man thought this to be a good time to start playing Army Guy.  This would consist of them running around with their toy M16's shooting each other and screaming (I know, your kids don't play with guns...mine do).  This would have been fine and dandy except Chubby Cheekers was sleeping.  Key word...WAS.

After getting on to the boys for their excessive noise, I grabbed Chubby Cheekers from his crib, gave him some milkies from the twins, and then went back to fixing my hair...and cooking dinner.  Since I was no longer allowing the boys to run around like banshees, I decided to have them sit in my bathroom while we did storytelling.  I was halfway through with my story and my hair, when Lindsay came to pick up Chunky Monkey.  I stopped what I was doing, even though I looked ridiculous, and helped her gather all of Chunky Monkey's things from the day.

As they were walking out the door, I finally mixed all the ingredients for the casserole, threw that in the oven, and went to finish my hair. Finally.  

To make a long story short, Steven got home from work, the kids were sitting at the table ready to eat, I gave Chubby Cheekers a 'top off' of milk before leaving, and I threw on my 'going out' clothes.  Then I got in my car and took a deep breath.  FREE-DOM!

I drove slow, changed the radio station when I wanted, and then turned it off and listened to...wait for it...SILENCE!

It was a glorious night of laughing and leisure.  I can't tell you the last time I sat at a restaurant or Starbucks and just talked to adults.  

After late nightin' it, we all decided it was time to return home to our duties...it was 9:30pm...yeah, we're wild.

Once I was home, I filled Steven in on the evening and decided to hop in the shower.  I stuck my hands in my pockets before I chunked them in the dirty hamper, but guess what?  My pockets weren't there.  Huh?  Did they fall off?  I quickly reached around the back to feel if they were there.  Yep.  I had put my shorts on backwards and wore them like that the entire night.  And that is precisely why GNO+Amanda Torres=Work.  

Thirty Something

 

I remember being in my elementary and middle school years and thinking thirty was old.  I would even see previews for the show Thirty Something and wonder why anyone would want to watch a show about middle aged people.  How depressing.  Somehow I suspect I would really enjoy the show now.  Even more depressing.

Anyway, being thirty something isn't so bad.  In fact I really enjoy my thirty somethings.  I have a pretty good set-up over here.  Great husband, beautiful home, good kids, fun part time teaching gig (gymnastics), and cool church, but it's really our wonderful friends I'd like to talk about today.

We have two sets of friends that we go to dinner with.  One set Steven and I have known the wife since high school and the other set we met when the wife became our babysitter to Little Man and Little Miss when I was working.  I'm not disclosing their names on here because I'm going to tell a story of one of date nights with both couples that makes me chuckle every single time I think of it.

About a year ago, Steven and I convinced both couples to try a new restaurant in a popular area of our city.  Steven and I had been there before and the food was really good and the atmosphere was quaint.  We decided to all meet there around 6 without kids so we could enjoy an evening out.

Unfortunately, the restaurant didn't live up to our memory, but we weren't going to let that spoil our kid free evening.  We decided to try the coffee shop two doors down where one of the couples knew the owner.

As we stepped inside it was packed out, but it was very apparent we did not fit in with this crowd.  It was one of those young hip, earthy type coffee shops where environmentally sound individuals sit and discuss saving trees and recycling.  Not for thirty somethings like us.

I believe the live music up front consisted of a small group of women and men who may or may not have arrived with shoes.  Nonetheless, not one musician was sporting any.  It was also very apparent that we were the only couples who seemed to mind that people were just hanging out with no shoes in a place where beverages were being served. Call me old fashioned, but I like the "No Shoes, No Shirts, No Service" saying.

Even with the earthy crowd and  non-shoe wearing musicians, Steven and one of the other guys were determined to get some coffee.  One of the other guys hates coffee, but he was peer pressured into ordering some.

Now I'm not a strong coffee type of girl.  I'm more of a foo-foo drink girl.  The kind of girl who likes a little bit of coffee with my creamer.  I should have ordered our friend's coffee.  Not the 'I like my coffee like I like my women (black and strong)' boys.  They ordered him up the strongest coffee.  They are mean.

After our friend had been slowing sipping on his coffee, Steven ventured to ask how he liked it.  I believe our friend's exact words were, "It taste like a$$."  Then he told us of a story where he went to breakfast with his co-workers.

Our friend is an engineer and is the youngest guy in his group of co-workers.  When they went to breakfast our friend, not liking coffee, ordered a chocolate milk.  After placing his order he went to the restroom.  When he came back his found his chocolate milk had been served...in a sippy cup.  After he got up to use the restroom, his co-workers asked the waitress to bring his milk out in a kid's cup.  Too funny!

And that my friends was all it took to get me laughing.  It still makes me laugh.  It all goes to show that we are not as young and hip as we would like to think we are.  We're just a group of thirty somethings who enjoy our time together whether we like where were at, whether we fit in, or whether we like coffee or not.

A New Winner and a Wiener

Welp, I never heard from Joanna so that means a redraw was in order.  The new winner is...

JOY ABAD

Congratulations!

Joy, information will be sent to you as to how to claim your prize!!!

Now the new winner has been established, I'm ready to share my wiener story.  Littlest Man has been a pretty good sleeper so far.  Going about 3-4 hours between feedings.  If you're thinking that's not very long, I should let you know Little Miss was up every hour for about a month or two.  She was a rough one.  Thankfully, her sleepless nights (and mine too) have allowed me to really appreciate my 3-4 hours of sleeping at a time.

Even though I'm appreciative of my sleep, it doesn't mean that I don't drag myself out of bed half awake to nurse and care for my baby.  This half awake state I find myself in on numerous nights contributed to quite frankly the most disgusting thing that has happened to me as a mom.

It was about 3am.  I had just finished nursing Littlest Man and gently laid him in his bed.  As I'm walking out of his room I hear the dreaded squirts.  He pooped.  Again.  I got him up, placed him gently on the changing pad and began to change the freshly soiled diaper. Since he was still sleeping I didn't turn his lamp on.  I just used the light from the nightlight.  Big mistake.

As I unfastened his diaper, I couldn't see the loaded missile pointed right at me.  For a second I couldn't figure out what warm liquid could be shooting me in the face.  I wasn't totally awake, but I came to my senses pretty quickly.  I was getting peed on...in the face...by my son.  

I told you it was something gross.  I'm just thankful my mouth was closed.  That would have been a whole other level of grossness!  

I think I've learned my lesson now.  Let Steven change all the diapers.  Kidding.  Although that would be an awesome solution, the lesson learned it to always turn the light on.  Always.  Getting shot in the face isn't an experience I would like to repeat ever again.  But hey, if you're gonna get shot in the face with urine it might as well be from this little guy...

For Your Own Viewing Pleasure

Don't forget to enter the GIVEAWAY going on this week.

I've got a real treat for you today.  Something to make you smile, or better better yet, make fun of.  It's okay.  It makes me laugh too.  I would like to introduce you to the Steven and Amanda Torres of 2001...

What I really wish I could find was the picture of us on my birthday back in 1997.  That pic screams awesomeness.  Really, it does.  I have bangs and my sweater is tucked into my jeans.  Hotness all around.

Aside from my 1997 hotness, I really want to talk about my husband.  He's like a fine wine.  He gets better with age.  Just check him out now...

This is as close to a swimsuit shot I can get you.  He's probably going to kill me for even posting this one, but I can't help it.  He's in great shape.  I like to show him off, because I sure is heck won't be showing me off in a swimsuit.  Seriously, would you want to see this in a swimsuit?

I didn't think so!

Anyway, you can obviously tell a weight difference in Steven from the past 10 years.  As most people get fatter (like me who has gained and kept 10 lbs in 10 years), my husband has lost and maintained the loss of 60 lbs in the last 10 years.  In fact, he lost 40 lbs in a matter of four months. 

Once he finished his senior season of football, he decided to take up running.  He wanted to look slim and trim for our upcoming wedding.  Every evening he would hit the training room and run and run and run.  When I think about what he accomplished now, it makes me really proud.  It also makes me wonder what in the world is wrong with me.  He got skinnier.  I got fatter.  There is something seriously wrong with this picture.

I guess after this baby is born, I'm going to have to get my college body back.  Yep, I'm gonna do it.  At least it sounds like a good plan now...maybe not so much later...

A Little Quirk

There are some things about me that are just plain weird.  Like I find it sacrilegious to have your toilet paper pull from the underneath side.  It must go over.  Never, ever under.  I also have another weird one...

Milk.  It can only come from one place if you expect me to drink it.  I am a milk snob.  I will not shop the sales or use coupons to get the cheapest milk.  I have to have Braum's skim milk.  Nothing else will do.  The rest just taste sour or spoiled.

You will never catch me ordering a milk at a breakfast place or grabbing a jug at the donut shop.  In fact, I will only drink milk out of my own fridge or my mom's (she's a Braum's snob too).  If Braum's were to go out of business, I would have withdrawals.  Probably bodily convulsions would be involved.

I've even ruined my son.  He tried another top brand of milk, took one sip, and told me it didn't taste right.  In fact he said, "Mom, I think this milk is bad.  It taste yucky."  I wasn't sure if I should feel sorry for him because he is now limited to his milk selections, or if I should jump for joy because he's made such a great decision at a young age.  All I know is I must be doing something right if he is a milk snob too.

Because I'm Pregnant...Really Pregnant

I have pregnancy diarrhea of the mouth.  I just can't stop talking about it.  Maybe because I feel gigantic, or maybe I just like to talk about myself.  Yeah, probably the latter.  Unfortunately for you, today is really not going to be any different.  I'm here to talk about myself being pregnant.

First off, I have been craving pop.  I thought a quick fix to Sonic during Happy Hour would feed my craving until this pregnancy was over.  I thought wrong.  Today I found myself completely salivating over another Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.  I really prefer not to fill myself with chemicals, caffeine, and sugar, especially during pregnancy, but I just can't shake this craving.

Next, I feel like this baby is going to fall out at anytime.  My workouts have consisted of teaching gymnastics.  That's it.  Oh, and that 2.5 mph speed I walk with my friend, Erica, while our kids our taking their gymnastics' class.  She's also preggo so we talk about all the stuff no one wants to hear unless you are pregnant.  Anyway, all that walking and gymnastics burns calories.  Total calories burned probably equates to me losing...uh...let's see...carry the 2...multiply by 3...oh yeah...nothing.

Finally, I'm starting to rethink this whole baby #3 thing.  Sure they are cute and cuddly, but do you people realize I am going to have to wake up at night?  This just donned on me.  I'm in for some real trouble.  All I have to say is this baby better be stinkin' cute so I can motivate myself to get out of bed all hours of the night.

That's it folks.  I don't have anything else to say.  You can go about your business, and spend you day thinking about my toxic levels of craziness.    However, if you are reading this by choice, what does that make you?  Just food for thought.  See you Monday!

Ginormous Pads

You know, I was just trying to be a thoughtful wife.  I made a list of all the items we would need as soon as we come home from the hospital.  Items for me and items for baby. 

If you've ever had a baby, you know what 'items for me' entail.  Pads.  Lots of pads.  Ginormous pads.  Long in length, wings for the sides, and super duper absorbency.  I realize if you've never had a baby or you're a man (If you are a man, why are you reading this blog anyway?), this is probably more information than you ever wanted to know.  However, it's a reality.  You need pads after having a baby.  You need pads for a very long time.

So back to my story at hand.  I was trying to spare Steven from the embarrassment of buying pads for me after we return from the hospital.  I was thinking ahead and I had coupons.  I strategically made my trip to Target yesterday at a non-peak time.  I can't remember the last time my Target was crowded at a 10am on Wednesday.  Nonetheless, it was.  Oh well, I already had my list, my coupons, Chunky Monkey, and Little Miss loaded up.  We were going shopping.

The first aisle in my shopping path was the pads aisle.  Wonderful.  I could stack all my other stuff on top of the  jumbo packs.  After all, buying pads isn't exactly something you want to advertise to the world.  Especially when the packages look like this...

Except I was buying two packages of pads that contained 45 pads/package.  Yes, they were huge.  It wasn't going to be easy to conceal these monstrosities, but I was going to do it.  Until...

Two little stinkers happened.  In my perfect world, I would have sat them down in the cart and went about my shopping.  However, I didn't factor in Chunky Monkey and Little Miss using them as pillows to carry out their epic pillow fight.  I'm pretty sure the words, "Quit hitting your cousin over the head with my pads" came out of my mouth.  AND, I'm also pretty sure the lady five aisles over heard me as well. 

My humiliation wasn't even close to being over.  As I was checking out, I handed over my Buy 1, Get 1 Free coupon I had for the pads.  I was trying to hand it to the cashier right when she scanned the item so she wouldn't have to go back and look at the price.  Apparently, I threw her off her game.  As I handed the coupon over, I said, "Ma'am, I have a coupon for that item you just scanned that will need a price written down."

"I'm sorry.  What item was that for?"

Looking back at the line of 3 people behind me, I discreetly whispered, "The pads."

"I didn't hear you.  Could you speak up, please?"

Repeating just a little louder, "The pads."

(In almost a yell)  "Did you say the pads?"

Covering my face with my hands, I answered, "Yes, the pads."

Really???  Complete embarrassment.  Thankfully, the rest of my items checked out well and my pads, kids, and I were able to make it out the door.  All of us are safely at home.  The pads are tucked neatly away in the bathroom where they will remain until this baby is born.  But, if for some reason I didn't purchase enough, it's going to be Steven's turn...and I'll be sending him in with coupons.  He'll appreciate that for sure!

Next up on my shopping list...breast pads.  Pads, pads, pads.  I just can't get enough of them!

Today Is THE Day

For over a week I've been experiencing pains.  I've tried to ignore them.  I've tried to relax.  I've tried to rest.  I've tried to keep my mind away from them, but the keep coming.  So today is the day I'm going in.  I'm going in to deliver.  Deliver myself from this pain.  I'm going here...

You didn't think I was going it to have this baby did you?  Nah...I've got 7 weeks left.  The pains I've been experiencing come from my taste buds.  I have been dying for a Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.  A BIG ONE.  Not just the value size.  The Big Kahuna.  The Rt 44.  Yes, today I'm getting one.

For the last week I have been resisting the urge to pump my body full of sugars and caffeine.  I finally came to the conclusion that if I just feed my need for ultimate thirst quenching one time, it will go away.  At least I'm hoping.

Stroll Down Memory Lane

Yesterday I closed down our house.  The weather was nice and my kids needed to get out of the house.  Whether they liked it our not, they were going to be outside.  While spending some time at our local park, I ran into two former parents.  Their kids are now in 9th and 10th grade.  Man, time flies.  I can still picture them as little fourth graders.  They were so precious.  It was good to hear of how the kids were doing today.  Good stroll down memory lane.

Once I decided the kids had exerted themselves enough with outdoor activities, I graciously allowed them to come in the house for naps.  It was great time to check up on my emails from the day.  I received one from Little Man's teacher.  She was nominated for Teacher of the Year this year.  Honestly, it should have happened a long time ago.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but she's pretty much awesome.  

As I was reading through some artifacts to her portfolio, I pulled up the same artifacts from mine.  Somehow, in my fourth year of teaching, I fooled my co-workers enough that they nominated me.  What a bunch of suckers!  Anyway, I came across one document that was supposed to wrap up my philosophy of education.  Reading through the artifact made me remember all the good times with great kids.  

Get ready for some reading, because I'm getting ready to share with you.  Also get ready for weird spacing because after I copy/pasted there was something funky going on.  I don't really care enough to change it.  Sorry 'bout it...

Candidate No.  11

 State Your Philosophy of Teaching

q       Describe your personal feelings and beliefs about teaching, including your own ideas of what makes you an outstanding teacher.

q       Describe the rewards you find in teaching.

q       How are your beliefs about teaching demonstrated in your personal teaching style?

“I am the decisive element in the classroom. 

It is my personal approach that creates the climate.

 It is my daily mood that makes the weather.  

As a teacher, I possess tremendous power to make

a child’s life miserable or joyous.”

                                                              - Hiam Ginot

The clock reads 1:45pm…time for Social Studies.  There’s a knock at the door.  All students remain seated 

as I answer the door, slip outside, and re-enter as Mrs. Continent.  Mrs. Continent takes time to teach a few 

lessons in Social Studies.  Her specialty is in the area of landforms and map skills.  The kids sit in awe as 

Mrs. Continent shares her biography.  Born and raised in London, she has a noticeably strong English 

accent.  She begins her lesson on lines of longitude and latitude, sharing with the students how the Prime 

Meridian, intersecting with her hometown, inspired her to become a professor of landforms and map skills.  

Mrs. Continent goes on teaching; students answer questions while learning all about exact locations.  She 

glances at the clock…2:15pm… time to catch her flight back to London.

Through the seemingly revolving door, I re-enter.  Funny, the kids say I look so similar to Mrs. Continent, but no time to talk about the striking resemblance.  It’s time for Math.  Division has been our quest for the past two weeks.  It’s the first time since we’ve started that everyone has scored satisfactory on their paper!!!!!!  Breaking into a chorus of Alleluia, I suddenly faint from excitement.  The kids wonder where I have gone.  The front two groups notice I’m on the floor.  The giggles begin and the students start to feel the mounting pride from accomplishing a new skill. 

The clock now reads 3:20; time to wrap up the day.  A discussion of high and low moments from the day brings me overwhelming joy.  I listen as my kids share their greatest accomplishments and struggles from the week.   I make mental notes of what I will do to change each child’s struggle into a success.  As the students gather their belongings and file out with hugs and good-byes, Michelle hands me a paper.  It’s a very neatly written field number, game time, and a little message. “Can you please come to my game?  Circle yes or no.”  I circle and hand the paper back to her.   My week is not over.  I’ll be at that soccer game to support her as she excels in an area outside of the academic realm.

How do these snapshots demonstrate my philosophy of teaching?  It is the devotion to each student in and out of the classroom.  The stitching on my heart motivates me to create a fascinating and engaging learning environment, as well as, developing a unique and special bond with each individual.  Giving my time, love, and support to each child beyond my classroom allows me to reap the benefits inside the classroom.  The devotion to my students ensures they will become actively involved with our learning.  I often have teachers who ask,” Where do you find the time or energy to do the ‘extras’?”  My reply is simple.  “I find the time and create the energy because my students depend on my tremendous power!”

Deep Thoughts On Maternity Pants

• Maternity pants are cute on other pregnant women.
• Maternity pants do not stay where they should...on your hips/waist.
• Maternity pants show my crack way more than it should be shown.
• Maternity pants leave you constantly pulling up or adjusting them for the reason listed above.
• Maternity pants are of the devil.

There you have it.  My take on maternity pants.  This could be the reason why I'm still rocking my old jeans rigged with a rubber band.  Those and yoga pants.  Yoga pants are of the Lord.  The stretch and move and stay in place.  If you see me in public, make sure you pay tribute to my yoga pants.  

Little Miss' Not So Little Problem

You see this precious thing...

You would think she's the most lady like little girl.  You would think.  Unfortunately she lives in a house where boys find their bodily noises hilarious.  H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S.  Another unfortunate addition is she has the gastrointestinal fortitude that her father and brother does.  She can toot with the best of them.

Many times I hear 'a noise' only to find out it wasn't that of a grown man.  It was my 27 lbs of a little girl letting out an adult size fart.  What's even more embarrassing is her announcement of what she's just accomplished, "I fawted, Mama."  You know, just in case you didn't hear it.

Yes, she says 'farted'.  As much as I've tried to convert her to 'toot' or 'fluff', the boys in the house have already sunk their nasty words into the depths of her innocent little vocabulary.  I don't think my corrections have any effect on her.  As much as she likes to produce those stinky bursts of air, she likes to announce what she's just accomplished.  I guess I should count my blessings.  Who's going to want to take my farting daughter out on a date?  Not too many I suspect.

Yes, this could be key in keeping her with us forever.  So Little Miss,  you keep on farting.

Love,

Your Mama



The Crappiest Date Night Ever

Ever so often my mom offers to take the kids overnight so Steven and I can have an extended date night.  It is wonderful!  This past Friday was our date night.  The kids were so excited for their slumber party at Grammy's and we were excited for a 100% adult evening complete with sleeping in the next morning.

Earlier in the day I kept to my usual routine. I dropped Little Man and his bud off at school, went to the grocery store, got milk, and came home to work on numbers and colors with Little Miss and Chunky Monkey.  Mason came home from school, we had lunch, and took naps.  For some reason I decided to lay down and cuddle with Little Man, and about an hour into the nap I noticed an uncomfortable pain in my left side.

I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, so I wasn't worried.  Thirty minutes later, I could barely stand.  An hour after the onset of pain, I was puking my guts out.  Thankfully, my wonderful sister-in-law (Chunky Monkey's mom) was able to rush over from work.  I got ahold of Steven and we were on our way to the ER.

To make a long story short, I was admitted into Labor and Delivery for 3-4 hours, dismissed, sent down to ER for another 4-5 hours, all to find out I had some of these...

The dreaded kidney stone.  Actually, the ER doctor thinks it's kidney stones since he didn't see me until after I passed them.  Well, I think that's what I passed since there was not a strainer available to me and I was NOT going to stick my hand down a hospital toliet.  

I believe there's been a debate over the pain associated with labor and the pain associated with kidney stones.  Which is worse?  I can now attest that kidney stones are much worse.  Ladies, imagine your worst contraction without meds and never getting a break for 8 hours straight.  Hideous, hideous pain.

The good news.  I survived.  The bad news, I've been enlightened about how kidney stones can occur.  At first I was baffled.  I drink mainly water and milk.  Maybe one caffeine free non-water/milk beverage every other week.  Obviously it's not the lack of water that contributed to mine.  What could have been was the spinach (a huge offender), peanut butter, whole wheat toast, kale (another huge offender), green bell peppers, and green beans.  I would have never guessed that foods that are supposed to work for your body can work against it. 

Another cause for me could also be holding my pee.   All you preggo girls know frequent urination is slightly annoying, especially at night.  I now know that the annoyannce is better than the stones.  I'm hoping and praying to stay away from those bad boys.

All in all, I'm all better and our baby is just fine.  That is all that matters.  I hear I'm pretty lucky passing the little boogers within eight hours.  I can't imagine lasting any longer without some kind of drugs. 

A Tale of Two Labors

One never really knows what labor will be like until you go through it.  Then you experience labor and you expect your second labor to be similar to that of the first.  Or at least I did. 

With Little Man I started having contractions around 3:00pm on a Sunday afternoon.  After hours of Steven tracking each contraction I called the on call doc.  She said if I could walk around just fine I probably wasn't in labor, but if I tried to go to bed at night and couldn't sleep I would need to go to the hospital.  I could walk around just fine so I thought for sure it wasn't real labor.  I really didn't want to be one of those first time moms who make multiple trips to the hospital with false alarms.  So I tried to go to bed.  I tried to go to bed for an hour and a half.  I tried to go to bed until Steven kicked me out and told me we were going.  He got all my stuff, pushed my very pregnant self in the car and very calmly drove me to the hospital. To my surprise I was in labor.  I was only dilated to a 4, but I got the good drugs and sailed through the rest of labor.  In the end I came home with a beautiful baby boy.

Little Miss was a much different story.  I was supposed to be induced with her.  She had her own plans though.  At about 4:00am on the morning I was to be induced, I woke up with gas pains. Those 'gas' pains started coming every 5 minutes.  I began to realize it wasn't gas, but contractions.  Since Little Man's labor was about 15 hours start to finish, I figured I had time.  I got up to pee and had a pee pee pants reenactment.  Only it wasn't pee.  My fluids were beginning to leak.  I decided I was going to shower, get ready, and then get Steven up to drive me to the hospital.  I didn't want to wake him since I just began labor.  That was a good plan until my contractions started coming every two minutes and I could no longer stand in the shower.  This was in a matter of 30 minutes.  The contractions were coming much faster and much stronger than I had experienced with Little Man.  Somehow I managed to dry my hair and get dressed while Steven called his dad to come stay at the house with Little Man. 

Steven's dad arrived about 30 minutes later, and I was having contractions every minute.  Steven helped me to the car and drove like a madman to the hospital.  He was so rattled.  I kept telling him to calm down.  He said he was calm, but when he pulled up to the emergency room, he dropped me off and DROVE AWAY.  As I'm standing at the entrance, I wondering where in the world he was going.  Thankfully a nurse had seen us pull in and wheeled out a wheel chair for me.  Finally Steven came back.  Instead of parking the car in the emergency room parking lot, he pulled all the way around to normal parking and came running like Usain Bolt to me.  He track star days weren't finished though. I never knew wheel chairs could handle speeds over 50 mph, but apparently they can.  It was great that my husband was so interested in getting me to labor and delivery in a timely fashion after the parking fiasco, but he was running so fast he passed the elevators. 

God must have been watching this whole thing because all of a sudden a man appears out of nowhere from inside and elevator and yells, "Sir, Labor and Delivery is this way.  Hop on."  Steven comes to a stop so fast I almost fly out.  He wheels me around and shoves me in the elevator.  I look up to thank the man when I realize it's a parent of one of my former students, AND I work with his wife.  He is cracking up, and I am dying from pain and embarrassment.

We finally got to where we were going.  After the admittance process, I was dilated to a seven.  When the anesthesiologist finally arrived an hour later, I was at a nine.  I was praying it would kick in just in time for the pushing, and it did.  Five minutes before.  Two pushes and Little Miss was out.  I came home with a beautiful baby girl.

If I could choose my labor for Baby #3, I would go with Little Man's plan.  Fifteen hours of slow labor was much, much better than five hours of hard and quick labor.  All I know is we will do yet another run to the hospital and this time I hope my husband remembers how to get to Labor and Delivery and where to park.  On that note, maybe we'll do two practice runs.

He's Too Sexy

Do you remember this song?

Well, it's Steven's new theme song.  His dark hair, skin, and eyes just seem to have a way of whoo-ing women.  He just doesn't see it in himself.  I tell him to go look in the mirror. Shirt off of course.  Then he rolls his eyes at me and tells me I have to say that. Then I admit that if he had slidden down the ladder in the looks department I wouldn't tell him.  After all, he doesn't tell me.  He values his life too much.

Anyhoo.  Steven had a crazy day at work on Friday.  He was checking on a job site for some exciting safety regulations and ended up having to stay the rest of the day.  Like the awesome daddy he is, he came straight to the hospital as soon as he could.  Ring around the collar and all.  The poor man had been sweating in his work clothes all day long, but he wanted to check on his little girl.

Meanwhile, Little Miss and I were making do with little items of entertainment we had in my purse.  Our nurse was really wonderful.  She came right in as soon as Little Miss needed her IV drip checked and got her anything she wanted or needed that was available.  There were about 4-5 other nurses at the station right outside our door, but only our nurse came in to check on Little Miss' progress.

I stand corrected. Only our nurse came in to check on Little Miss' progress UNTIL my darn sexy husband showed up.  He hadn't been there five whole minutes before another nurse I had not seen comes knocking on the door.

"Oh excuse me.  Is that her machine beeping?"

"No ma'am.  My daughter's is just fine.  Thanks for checking."

"You're more than welcome, sir."

I found it a bit weird, but thought maybe our nurse stepped out a bit and she was asked to listen for the IV drip.  Steven and I continued playing with Little Miss for a few minutes. Then another knock came.

"Are you guys alright in here?  Do you need anything at all?"

"Uhhh, (looking at me) do we need anything? (Shook my head no).  Nope, we're doing just fine."

"No problem.  You're daughter is just beautiful and has been such a trooper for your wife."

"Thank you.  She's a brave one"

"You let me know if you need anything, m'kay?"

At this point, I was beginning to catch on.  Not my husband.  He was super impressed with the care of the nursing staff.  He was about to open his mouth and say so when our nurse walks in and closes the door.

"This is highly inappropriate to be telling you, but all the girls at the nursing station cannot get over how handsome your husband is.  They have all been gathered at the nurse's station waiting to catch a glimse."

Sure enough, when I stepped out to use the restroom there were about 8 nurses/staff workers sitting there.  I thought some even got a case of whiplash when I opened the door.  Much to their dissappointment, it was just a pregnant lady looking for the bathroom.  Too bad for them.  Thankfully, they were all still gathered around when we were dismissed so they got one last glimpse of the stud holding his little girl.  But, this time they got the back view.  Trust me.  It's almost as good as the front.  Almost.

A Very Bad Habit

Pinterest is becoming a bad habit.  A very bad habit.  Case in point.  It was a leisurely Wednesday late afternoon.  I was beginning dinner preparations so we could all rush out the door to make it to church on time.  Making it to church on Wednesdays is usually a feat.  We have to be there by 6:15 to volunteer, which means we need to leave no later than 5:50.  This makes it difficult when Steven doesn't even get home from work until 5:30. Since he has just enough time to cram dinner down his throat, it is my duty to prepare dinner with 3 kids all the while getting Chunky Monkey ready to go home, and my two presentable for church.

I tell you all this so you can really see how much of a monster Pinterest has caused in me.  If all of the items above weren't enough, I decided to add just one more thing to my list.  As I was standing over the oven, this mental picture came to mind...

{Apple Cinnamon Donuts}

In my head I thought, I have all these ingredients.  What I wasn't thinking in my head was, I don't have time to be making these.  I let my stomach do my thinking.  That's a very scary thing.  So I made them.  Unfortunately, they didn't turn out as scrumptious as I expected.  Mainly because I overmixed the batter making them more like Apple Cinnamon Cookies instead of Apple Cinnamon Donuts.  But would I have another go at them again?  Yes.  Just not on church night.

Boy or Girl?

The Torres parents went to the baby doctor yesterday and we have a pretty good idea about the sex of the baby.  Am I going to tell you today? Well, that wouldn't be much fun would it?  Just giving up information so easily?  No way.  I like slow toture.  I didn't even tell my mama. She's dying to know, but she will have to wait five more weeks for the confirmation appointment.  (Alice, I know this is killing you too and I'm secretly enjoying it.)

Since I'm not 100% mean to the bone, I will share that Little Nugget was quite the mover this time during the ultrasound.  We got a great pic of the spine which ruled out a few major issues that can happen during pregnancy, and saw all sides of the baby.  Front, back, side, upside-down, right side up, twists and turns.  This baby is an atheltic little booger!

Now for the part I'm most excited about sharing.  My weight.  Not my actual weight, but my weight gain.  My first two pregnancies I gained a little over 10 lbs during my first trimesters.  With Little Man I worked out almost everyday and gained 12 lbs.  With Little Miss I walked a few times a week, and gained 10 lbs.  With Little Nugget I've been running just a few times a week, and I've only gained...wait for it...wait for it...2 lbs during my first trimest.  Did you catch that?  TWO POUNDS!  The only way to celebrate that awesomeness is with a piece of my mom's leftover Banana Split Dessert.

Last but not least, I'm ready to show the bump.  It's developed way faster than my other two offspring so I was hesitant to show it off.  However, since I can say I've only gained two pounds I guess I can show 'the bump'.  Are you ready???

You'll have to excuse the nastiness of the out of focus picture, and focus on the size of this belly.  Seriously!  This is me at 11 weeks.  ELEVEN WEEKS!  I wasn't this big with the other two until at least 15 weeks.  This is definitely going to be an interesting pregnancy.  The only positive thing I can think of is people no longer have to wonder if I've let myself go or developed a beer belly.  I officially looked knocked up.  Thanks Steven!

A Pregnancy Day

Hello All.  I'm taking a Pregnancy Day.  What's a Preggo Day you ask?  Well, it's when you've worked tirelessly to get your house spotless for a coupon class and then you bake some goodies so you don't have time to write down what's been floating around in your head.  Really pregnancy has nothing to do with why I didn't type anything out, I just didn't have time.  Nonetheless, I am pregnant and pregnant women LOVE to use that as an excuse (or at least I do), so I'm using it. Not to mention this is my last time to use it as an excuse so I'd better squeeze it in as much as I can.

Hey!  Maybe you can help me out with this.  What's your best, "I'm sorry.  I can't help you with that.  I'm pregnant," excuse.  Do spill.  I might run out of my own excuses and will need to borrow yours...

On a brighter note, I do have a lengthy true story post for you tomorrow.  Just FYI.  You know so you can grab your morning cup of joe and sit down for a good long story.  See you tomorrow.