Rebellion or just plain 'ol self expression?

I've had a nose ring for, I believe, about 8 or so years now.  It was a random act of best friend adventure.  He got an eyebrow ring.  I opted for the nose. Very much like the time we got a tattoo together when he came to visit me my senior year of college. I've had my nose peirced for so long that I forget it's there. Even though it's smack in the middle of my face, I don't see it or feel it. It's like a freckle. A tiny silver ball of a freckle. 

Pretty harmless I 'd say.

So when I come across someone who judges me for the 3rd hole in my nose or the tat on my back (which is a tiny little butterfly on my left shoulder blade. I know, SATANIC.) I get that stabby feeling...Y'know, the whole -I really want to be accepting and cool and mature about this but you're saying to my face that face peircings and tattoos especially on women are trashy -that they come across as unprofessional -that people only get these things because they want to be thought of as "different" or "antisocial."  It couldn't possibly be in the ballpark of when people wear  rings/bracelets/necklaces/earrings.   GASP! Hoops in the ears are offensive!!

(Oh, yeah, btw, this was coming from a psychiatric nurse. Nice)

It's called cultural competence.  And as a person who works with not only a diverse population, but with a population who are mentally ill, I expect you to have the ability to accept, communicate with, and effectively interact with people across cultures. Who have different world views.  Not bad, not wrong, just different.

Please to check your bias at the door. Mmkthx.

Please to become interested in others world views. It's part of being an effective worker in the mental health field. It's part of winning friends and influencing people.

And then there was some words regarding peircing baby girl ears and how just awful that is and how could you...blahblahblah...

And at the time I was so dumbfounded that someone I liked and respected was telling me all this.  And all I could say was,

"Wow...okay."

And they were all, "Well, at least I'm telling you to your face."

Yeah, at least you're being rude and ignorant RIGHT OUT LOUD.

That's great.

I went home that night feeling so in a funk.  I was actually questioning my decision to maintain my nose ring.  The tat I can easily cover up.  But, damn, I'm 32. A mother.  Should I be wearing this? What image am I sending? Is this good for my son?  Will people still take me seriously in the work place and socially?! As a mother??

Yeah, self doubt SUCKS. Especially when you are overtired and it's one in the morning.

So I came home, kicked off my shoes, grabbed a slice of leftover pizza and turned on the tv.

And saw this commercial:




And, BAM.  I got my mojo back.

Yup, from a 36 second Holiday Inn commercial.

And I didn't even have to cut a bitch...

ps. On a side note, the UK version of this commercial (seen above) has the chick with the pink hair. The US version does not...interesting, huh?

wordy-less wednesday

Or, two little men in a pink, motorized princess vehicle. Oh yeah, baby!

spilled milk

It's been awhile since I've posted the latest and greatest.  This picture kind of sums up my current reality.  Realizing priorities, choosing battles, and "will this matter a year from now?"  It's when I keep it simple, being in the moment, and appreciating what I have that makes me the most content.  Having a child can most certainly keep one grounded.  He reminds me everyday that family is the most important.  Love is the most important.  Not a lush, green front yard.  Not a spotless, streakless hardwood floor. Or an empty dishwasher.  Or a stain-free couch.  Or matching socks. Or wondering if it's time to cut his hair again. Or do these curtains fulfill my idea of what my living room should look like especially since we just painted the kitchen and now I'm thinking the hallway needs a face lift and that hallway light is just plain tacky and the knocker on our front door has the last name of the former owners who we inherited all sorts of problems from like that damn ugly carpet in the basement and the apparent water stain on the ceiling which has kept me from showering in the master bath until we get it fixed fuckitalltohell...I find myself so weary trying to keep up with freakin' houseshit...until I remind myself that there will always be houseshit. Always. Dust, dirt, crumbs, laundry, cooking, miscellaneous home improvements...do not ever get done. And done.

My son is constantly evolving, ever-changing, and I need to witness

 and savor. Not spend energy and time concerning myself over all the shit.

And then there are the situations that come up and ask, beg even, for you to be mature.  People who have made a cameo in your life that don't come with an air of openness or nonjudgmental energy.  I'm trying to see these "challenges" as an opportunity to practice acceptance or (gasp!) patience.  To get to the place where I can say "thank you" to my "challengers" -forgive- and wish them well.

Yeah. So...

So I went outside with my little guy and followed my leader...

Simple. Perspective.

Spilled milk?

Thank you...

Summer is a-comin'!

Straight in he goes!  Shoes, socks, jeans and all!  And that would be, my son...

The Dad helping out Milosis with his 2 ft. popsicle!

pretty much what I do best

“Don't grow up too quickly, lest you forget how much you love the beach.”
-- Michelle Held

Tap tap. Is this thing on?

Hello Faithfuls (mom!). 

I'm back from one hot minute in Vegas and thought I'd share some highlights with you alls.  I flew out last week, met up with my BFF, and had a fantastic time!

flying over and into Vegas! Hello Nevada!

view from the Eiffel Tower our hotel room!

look it's ME!  Without a BABY! What?!

my friend, Alicia, gettin' honest! ;) (congrats!)

Zexy!!

My first Vegas Nighclub: TAO

Where we partied with Holly Madison. And some other crazy hot chick!

Love: Where Cirque Du Soleil and The Beatles come together. AMAZING.

Obligatory pic with Elvis

I totes shoulda been a Prada model.

Or a candy perfume girl...

Partying it up with Hef.  Bunny ears and champagne wishes!

Hittin' up da club with my boyfriend...

pole dancin' with my man Bono...

Me and the BFF

Cheers!

Now I got some laundry and sleep to catch up on...

on "transitioning" from the crib

Dear Mom,

I know you've been checking this blog out, like, every day x3, just to see the same post over and over because I haven't posted the latest and greatest of your grandson in about a week or so.

And, OH MY YES have things changed.  Like, one, he now sleeps on the floor.  If you follow me on FB (and I know you're stalking me there, too) we have broken down his crib.  The one that was recalled a year ago (that I never did anything about).

OMG I let your grandson sleep in a RECALLED CRIB!!  For a YEAR!

Where was I?

So the crib is/was a convertible crib.  Which, when I bought the thing, I thought was a, like the Brit Brits say, BRILLIANT idea.  Because it's supposed to last an American Lifetime.  So, aside from the whole recall bullshit, when you convert the damn bed to a "toddler" bed, it's still HIGH UP OFF THE FLOOR.  So, yeah, either buy a crib tent (which, By the FREAKIN' way) is not easy to find one that fits a CONVERTIBLE bed or buy one of those side railing things, WHICH, By the FREAKIN' way, unless you are a FOWARD thinking kind of parent (nice job and gold star if you are) and already have these assessories in your home or happen to live right next store to a babys R (rippin' us off) us...

Where was I?

So persons like MOI have to make due and QUICK because YOUR GRANDSON is slippin' himself out of the crib like a FREAKIN' NINJA.  NO Joke.  Seriously...So, he's in his crib, sleeping, orzo I THOUGHT.  I'm down the short hall folding laundry (not joking, I really am folding laundry) and I hear a door moan open.  I think it's a cat going into Milo's room.  So, imagine my surprise when I see Milo in his doorway.  Like a mirror image we both jump in surprise at seeing the other. His lips suck in, his eyes avert in a sheepish way and I, half in surprise, half in WTF is going on! turn him around and lift him back to his crib.

So we do this about 5 or 20 so times until he finally gives in and falls asleep in his crib.

In and out of the crib
In and out of the crib
In and out of the crib.

Not even ONE NOISE was made.

Again, the little sucker is a NINJA.  At 21 months.

So the husb comes home and  I tell him about how his little seedling can swoop himself out of the crib without so much as a Thump-a-Thud.

So we the husb  takes off the front end of the crib.  And this is what transpires the next day when putting him down for a nap:

Think he did this accidentally?  Nope! 

p.s. All those pillows and blankets are on the floor  to *protect* him from falling.  His room isn't usually in this ungodly disarray. Trust.

This is what I think about you taking apart my bed: DESTROY!

Over and Over.  We are having so much fun now.

And then?

Let's take the mattress off!!

2 hours later...

Finally, he naps...

And for your viewing enjoyment, here's a little video of which has amused me for hours...

So now?

We've had to bid adieu to the crib. And Milo is left with this:

kinda sad, really.  but, hey, safety first...

Also? I've done away with ALL the bottles.  No more BOTTLES.  Too much for one week?

So, mom...I'm really looking foward to seeing you tomorrow! You'll be here at 1:00?  Just in time to put him down for a nap!!

The husb and I wish you ALL THE BEST!

xox,

MME