why wait?

if you google 'why wait?', you get references to some songs by Shakira and Rascal Flatts (who, until just now I thought spelled their name Rascall Flats...), plus some app about getting last-minute reservations at restaurants.

anywho, at my house 'why wait' took on a brand new meaning this evening. after a perfectly bbq'd turkey burger and some doritos (aaaand one, maybe two glasses of wine), i had a moment.

what were the dang moves from my high school fight song?

let's just get it out there. i was a cheerleader. shocking, i know. usually it's those perky types and i'm so completely calm and rational all the time. well, SURPRISE!

anyway, in my tank top and shorts, in our living room, in 90 degrees and the sticky Seattle humidity, i try and bust the Mt. View HS fight song i danced o'er and o'er again some *ahem* several years ago. complete fail.

and as i look over my shoulder to see if my 3 year-old daughter is *please, GOD* missing the spectacle, i realize she isn't. in fact, she has completely lost interest in the Lion King that's showing on the big TV for pizza and movie night, and is staring at my sorry 34 year-old-ness wondering how-the-what she ended up with a mom like *this* raising her at home every day.

is she qualified for this job? seriously, good question. goooood question.

and instead of shrinking down and doing some baking or housecleaning or something motherly and worthwhile to redeem myself, you know what i realized? why should i wait for my kids to be double-digits before embarrassing the bleep out of them? bwahaha...

  • embarrass often.
  • embarrass as much as possible.
  • when at home, feel free to embarrass yourself as well, as long as no one is filming.
  • dancing the Roger Rabbit to Ne-Yo is completely acceptable behavior.
  • embarrass a lot.
  • a little woop woop! is most certainly called for if/when you land the round-off (and, by the way, 'sort-of' sticking it totally counts when you're 34.)
    • and...if you don't land, bouncing back and doing a double 'ta da!' like the gymnasts do in the olympics is absolutely called for, regardless of what your husband says.
  • visiting www.travelocity.com in the evening will yield abundant search results to areas such as Fiji, Aruba and San Juan de somethingorother.
so why wait? there is no promise of tomorrow.

carpe diem!


no, really...this is it.

my life is not like a box of chocolates. it's the tree that falls in the woods and wonders if anyone heard the thud.

some days are like chocolate and cherries.
kwachhuhwh! (sorry, i was choking on my own sarcasm.)

other days your 10 month-old gets your iPhone and your memory gets maxed out with photos like this.

most days my husband is working. but when he isn't, and he has the kids,
he realizes that i need a break more than he needs me to rush home.

nordstrom anniversary sale. happy moment.

flat tire. not a happy moment.

"i swear i burn water" husband cooks an amazing dinner.
i'd be uber-mad about the horrific lie if i weren't so busy stuffing my face.

we could totally be on a soap opera, right?!

at least they colored on paper this time.
about how i feel most days too, schnookems.

only miss jane can get us all smiling at once.

borrowing my clothes already.

not my clothes...

this batch of blueberry pancakes came with maple syrup and butter.
because the high chair needed cleaning anyway, and so did his inner-ears.



i'd like to say they're like this all the time, but i don't think
i could stop laughing long enough to type straight.


go-fish instead of mickey mouse clubhouse. win!

seriously, siri...where do i hide the bodies?

just finished the naked-baby dance, now we're off to conquer the backyard.
that is, as soon as we run over our little brother with the babydoll stroller.

a. i get a lot done when the kids are away. like catching up on Days and popping bon-bons. *imeanworking...*
b. we had at least a dozen screaming fits today. hence, 'coming in hot...' top gun. tom cruise. not a coincidence.

and at times like this, one golfs indoors.


rock, paper, scissors.

normally NOT the most progressive among my peers, i took pause just now to recall a moment where i was. i made a sincere attempt to go paperless while selling real estate in bend at my coldwell banker office. superior agents, management, facility, all of it. but everyone freaking wrote everything on paper before entering it in to the computer. several agents would even email, print out the email, and put it in the client file. what the what.

you know who you are.

so as i sit here planning a volunteer appreciation event i'm putting together one master list from several smaller ones i've saved in 'notes' on my iPhone. on paper....with a pen...inches from my computer.


oh well, i'm an old dog; and sometimes a girl just needs to pick up a pen and write it the heck down. besides, hitting select/delete just doesn't have the same satisfaction as actually crossing something out once you've finished it. you can't press extra hard on an iPhone to super-cross something out that has sucked the life out of you to complete, you know?

so while i'd like to tell my children i'm doing my best to save the world as i follow them around turning off lights, teaching them to turn off the faucet while the toothbrush is in their mouths, there are just some things that are here to stay--at least at our house.


aaaaaand we're punchy.

my friend Adriel has developed this amazing concept for a blog. it's called 'click clink five'. basically, she takes 5 minutes and writes whatever comes to mind, unedited, and hits POST.

i'm punchy. let me frame it for you. i just had an MC Hammer and Rick James epiphany. followed by a dance party wherein i played Can't Touch This and Super Freak back to back several times to absorb the fact that they have the exact same backbeat. dude. total. vanilla. ice. moment.

and, by the way, i am a grammer snob and hate. fragmented. sentences.

but i digress...

there are moments in life where you are supposed to lift your pinky and use the right fork. and then there are moments like this. where the kids are headed toward an early bedtime, you're at home on a friday night with your best friend in the universola, and decide that wine and chicken nuggets are your very. best. friend.

again, with the fragments...what's. happening. to. me?

shatner. moment.

again, the digression...

so i lift my glass to you mamas, papas, and the mamas and the papas (to whose credit i actually couldn't name a single song, but it sounded pretty in my head).

happy friday.


(also, i karate-chopped the babygate in the sliding glass door to the back deck and it totally backfired. basically, it flew out of the window, and when i tried putting it back together it came after me. true story.)