Match maker, Match maker, make me a match...

In case you aren’t aware yet, my kids are all about finding me a significant other. I would say it’s because they care about their mom’s happiness, but that would be a lie. I believe, in my heart, that they care so much about it because I care so much about it. They know I’m writing a book…they know I have this blog. They don’t read either, but they always say things like, “that would be good for your blog” or “hey mom, can we watch the Tooth Fairy? You know there is a little eye candy in that movie for you?”

Is this right...No.

Is this good parenting…No.

But, it is what it is, I am who I am…I’m not gonna hide it from anyone...not even my kids.

Now don’t get me wrong…I’m not the kind of girl who brings home every guy I go on a date with. In fact, in the six years I have been divorced, my dad has met three of the guys I dated, and my kids have met one. I even dated a guy for 9 months that I didn’t introduce to my kids or my dad.

I’m very protective of who my family, especially my kids, meet!

So, tonight, I’m at home, doing some writing when I hear the pitter patter of three seven year old boys coming up the stairs. Ok…if I were being honest with you, I would tell you that I smelled three sweaty seven year olds coming up the stairs before I could hear them. I hate the way kids smell when they have been running and playing outside in the heat…it smells like a college fraternity in my house…I can’t wait to break out the Febreeze when they all go home.

Anyway, back on track…Gibson, and his two friends Brycen and Dillon come barreling up the stairs. Gibson starts yelling at me with excitement, “mom…mom…Dillon’s dad is at the park you have to come down and meet him.”

Now, you might be wondering why Gibson was so excited for me to meet Dillon’s dad. No, it’s not because he is single. It’s because Gibson has been dying to go to Dillon’s house to play and every time he asks I say no. Why do I say no? I say no, because I have never met Dillon’s parents before. And I guess I’m just the kind of mom that is protective enough of my kids that I need to meet the parents living in the houses that my kids spend time in before they actually spend time there.

It makes sense, right?

So I go downstairs and walk across the street to the park, and Dillon’s dad comes over to me and says (and I quote verbatim), "Hi, I’m Tim. I’m Dillon’s dad. It’s nice to finally meet you. Gibson talks a lot about you and reminds me every time that I see him that I would love you because you are funny and single.”

I kid you not…I can’t make this stuff up people.

I’m standing there, uncomfortable, embarrassed and anxious to go back inside when Tim realizes that he probably embarrassed me and says, “you wouldn’t be interested in me anyway, I’m married with 4 kids under the age of nine…that’s enough to scare all the ladies off.”

I openly laughed out loud of the truthfulness in his words.

Uncomfortable, inappropriate, and priceless all at the same time!

Random thoughts...

To the guy next to me at the red light, I can see you picking your nose…even through tinted windows, please stop.

You can never convince a 10 and 7 year old that their grumpy and whiney behavior is due to the fact that they are tired. They never think they are tired.

A weekly manicure and pedicure is the best thing a girl could do for herself.

Flashing my way to the front row of a Motley Crue concert in my 20’s was a thrill. Doing it in my 40’s could be a reality in the next couple of weeks, this both excites me and frightens me at the same time.

This week my dad took my kids to see a movie. He gave them two choices, either Green Lantern, or Mr. Popper’s Penguins. Gibson’s response was “we better see Mr. Popper’s Penguins, mommy will be mad if we go see her boyfriend without her.” Man, I love that boy, always thinking about his momma!

One thing I both love and hate about my new job is that they highly encourage employees to bring a spouse or significant other to most company functions/meetings/seminars. That’s a lot of pressure for a girl without a significant other anywhere in sight.

I have 3 weeks and 3 days to find a “significant other”. I’m not feeling good about my chances.

Wonders how my brothers and I ever survived without XBOX, Wii, iPods, cell phones, and cable television.

WARNING: if you ask a child for thoughts on what you are wearing, they WILL BE HONEST with you! And I quote Gibson verbatim this weekend…”mom, if you wear that dress, you will be single for the rest of your life.” I wore the dress anyway, and now more than ever, I believe his every word.

Wishing my house clean, does NOT make my house clean.

I love my new Nook…hence the reason my house is not clean.

Having dinner with new girlfriends is awesome! But when one of those new girlfriends is texting/IM’ing on her cell phone the entire evening, it becomes very clear that she will NOT be a new girlfriend. I don’t have time for people that won’t take five minutes to get to know me and realize that I can be more entertaining than a damn cell phone in a nice restaurant….bitter, party of 1?

Flaunting is for the birds

Starting my posts with “I hate…” is not something I enjoy doing, but lately I’ve been doing it quite often.

So today I am going to start my post with this…

Do you know what I love?

I love when people donate to charities. I love when people help out those in need. I love when people do whatever they can to help better the lives of others.

I try to give and donate when I can, but as a single mom who often lives paycheck to paycheck it gets tough. So more often than not, I donate my time and talent more than I do my money. And I usually feel good when I’m done.

I know there are tons of people out there that have millions and millions of dollars and give a ton of it away. It always makes me happy when that happens.

To the contrary though, I hate when they are extravagent to the other extreme. You know like when a celebrity couple spends $25 million dollars on a 10 bedroom mansion…what do they need a house that size for when it’s just the two of them? Or when someone like Paris Hilton spends thousands and thousands of dollars a day on useless items, like jewelry and clothes for her dog.

And this….this is one of my biggest pet peeves…



This is a picture of the 20.5 carat engagement ring that Kris Humprhies just gave to Kim Kardashian.

Really?

Is this extravagance really necessary?

My question is this, what business does a 26year old have buying a 20.5 carat diamond engagement ring for a cool 2.5 million dollars for his 30 year old fiancé that he has only known a little over 6 months?

What is this world coming to when we have people in Joplin, MO who have lost their homes and can’t seem to keep their heads above water and Kim Kardashian is wearing 2.5 million dollars worth of jewelry…on her ring finger?

Quite frankly…IT DISGUSTS ME!

I feel sorry for Kris Humphries. Why you may ask? Well, in my mind an engagement ring is the “promise” of things to come. And if he is already purchasing something that extravagant this early on in their relationship, then I am of the opinion that he will never ever be able to keep her happy!

Poor fella!

I'll have a Chai Tea Vodka Latte please

My mind is full of crap lately. And if you are anything like me, sometimes it’s difficult to get rid of the crappy thoughts that consume it on a daily basis. So, in an attempt to get rid of these mindless thoughts, I am going to try to say them out loud, ie: write them down here.

First and foremost, this man is H. O. T, hot...



...There, I said it! Sorry Ryan Reynolds…this is not a betrayl of you, it’s just a fact that needed to be stated.

I think they may be serving crack at school these days.

I’m convinced I will forever be known as “mom, the human coatrack.”

Mother nature clearly has some pent up sexual frustrations and she is taking it out on the Midwest, seriously snow on March 30th?

Cleaning my house is a big fat waste of time.

Cheap child labor is one of the benefits of being a parent.

I need to learn Korean so that I can see if the employees at my nail salon are, in fact, making fun of me.

Sleep is really just a luxury in my house anymore.

My laundry pile is kind of like Charlie Sheen, it NEVER goes away. Duh…loosing!

My “to do list” is multiplying quicker than the wives on the TLC show, Sister Wives.

Good things do occasionally happen to good people. I’m currently awaiting that occasion.

Calgon needs to take me away…or a hot fireman will do too.

Justin Beiber needs a new stylist. Anyone who convinces him it is still cool to wear your pants completely off your ass should not be paid good money.

Listening to my 7 year old sing Gun’s and Roses, Welcome to the Jungle, verbatim is both hysterical and disturbing at the same time.

If I don’t get back into a regular workout routine, I may just kill a unicorn.

I’m usually ready to go to bed before my kids are these days. Does that make me a bad mom?

Costco at noon is a great place to take your kids for lunch. What? Don’t judge me, you know you’ve done it before.

I need a maid, a chef, a chauffeur and a sugar daddy.

I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be a PTA mom or a room mom at my kid’s schools.

Wine has been my wingman as of late. Yeah, that’s not working for me either.

It's your party and I'll text if I want to

A couple of months ago I was invited to a 40th birthday party for a friend of mine at a local bar. I’m not much of a party goer so I never RSVP’d to the event. I’m the kind of person that is 100% in if I RSVP and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to commit to going so I didn’t respond.

At the last minute I decided to go.

When I arrived I felt like I was attending a “texting party”. What is a texting party, you might ask? According to the Urban Dictionary it’s a social gathering in which people text those that are not at the party more than they socialize with others in the room.

The party wasn’t officially labeled a “texting party”. It’s not like I got an invitation that read: You’re invited to Brad’s 40th Birthday Party where there will be only texting and no socializing… But as I looked around the room I began to wonder why any of these iPhone, Droid and Blackberry using people even bothered to show up if all they were going to do was text other people.

But more importantly, I wondered why this type of behavior has become so socially acceptable? Why would people attend a party and text those that were not there rather than talk to people that were there?

Quite honestly, I wanted nothing more than to be at home in bed… (sorry Brad…really it was a great party, once everyone warmed up and stopped texting!)

While I was standing by the bar waiting to finish my conversation with a friend (who, by the way, had stopped in the middle of our conversation to read and send a text to someone who wasn’t at the party)I started thinking, what would happen if I had shown up to the party with a mini DVD player, put on my pajamas and started watching a movie? It would have been just as inappropriate as what the texters were doing, right? To me nothing says “I don’t want to be here” more than someone that is texting while in my presence. I recently went on a date with someone who was texting through some of it and it pissed me off!

I can understand a text here and there, but to carry on a complete conversation with one person while in the presence of another is just plain rude! I really hate it when I see groups of people incessantly clicking away on those little itty bitty keyboards like a bunch of journalists struggling to get that hot story in before the paper goes to press at midnight.

The funny thing is that had the recipients of these texts actually been in the same room as the people who were texting them, they would probably be texting other people entirely…

Think about it…it’s a viscious cycle that seems never ending!

Stalkerazzi

I have some crazy blog followers!

You guys want it all and you want it now! I'm not judging, in fact that’s why I love you…I’m all about instant gratification too!

I cannot believe the number of people who are dying to hear how things went with Hot Fireman last week? My inbox lit up on Friday morning with so many messages that said “well…..how did it go last night?”

Either you guys are all;
a) crazy
b) vicariously living through me
c) just nosey.

Either way…you make me feel like the cool kid at school after prom.

Cool kids meet me in the ladies room after homeroom for discussion, and the rest of you…just remember this blog is mostly about the losers I come across…so keeping that in mind, I can pretty much guarantee you that you will NOT, let me repeat NOT be hearing much about the Hot Fireman!

I know…I’m a little giddy about the whole situation and am trying not to jinx it. And that is all you are going to get out of me about him…sorry suckers!

I know…you’re ticked and suddenly feel like you just spent $12 on a movie that made you say “what the hell just happened” as the credits start rolling.

Sorry…but that’s how I roll.

With that out of my system, I do feel like I need to tell you about one of the guys that I had a date with last week but cancelled at the last minute because I wasn’t excited about it.

I will name him Mr. Stalker. Ok…he is not really a stalker, but he is showing some stalker tendencies. I don’t like it! Quite frankly, it kind of freaks me out and suddenly makes me happy that we didn’t exchange last names.

When I called Mr. Stalker last week to cancel our date, he was cool. He said he enjoyed our conversations and hoped that we could remain friends. I didn’t really respond with a yes or no. I’m not exactly sure what I said, but I believe it was along the lines of “it was great getting to know you…good luck in your search.” It’s a pretty standard line that I give…it seems pretty clear and usually keeps guys off my back (not that they are flocking to me…but you get my drift).

Well that particular line didn’t seem to work with Mr. Stalker. He has called me and text me every single day since our phone call last week. I have not responded once! At some point I would like to think he will get tired of trying and eventually give up. You know, kind of like a baby that doesn’t want to go to sleep.

But I’m not sure that he is going to do that anytime soon.

I got a call from him yesterday that kind of (read: definitely) freaked me out. I had just left work to head home to my son’s birthday party when my phone rang. I got a sinking feeling when I saw that it was The Stalker. I, of course, let it go to voice mail. I contemplated deleting it before listening to it, but something inside me made me listen to the message. It freaked me out when I heard, “hey…just driving down ***** Street and thought I saw you pulling out onto the street. It’s 5pm so maybe you work in the area and are leaving for the night. Just thought I would give you a call and see if you had changed your mind about a date yet.”

Two things came to mind…

1. Hell no, I’m not interested in a date with you
2. Holy crap, he just saw me pulling out of my office

I was hoping he would go away…but I might have to send out reinforcements…and by reinforcements I mean I think I’m going to have to break out “Biiioooootch Julie” and set the record straight with him. But then again, there is a part of me that is hoping he will go away quietly on his own. I mean it doesn’t take a genius to know that if I haven’t responded to any of your messages in over a week, I’m probably not interested.

Yeah, I’m not sure that he is going to disappear on his own…and it kind of stresses me out.

Friday night lights

I love having my kids every Friday night. It’s our time to have fun and wind down from a long hectic week. Usually Monday-Thursday is nonstop from the moment we get up in the morning until the moment we go to bed. We don’t ever have quiet one on one time to catch up through the week. So Friday nights are our nights to say hi, talk about our week, and have some fun.

This past Friday was no exception. I race home because I was excited to spend time with Hamilton and Gibson. I come running in the house expecting to be greeted by two sweet boys dying to see me as much as I am dying to see them. When instead, what I see is two grumpy kids pissed that they had to be home by 5:30pm, because all they wanted to do all week is play with their friends. I have to admit, this crushed me, but I do the right thing and I give them the opportunity to hang with me or stay and play with their friends. I then give them the “puppy dog eyes” and manage to irk up some small tears to make them feel a little guilty for not wanting to spend time with me.

Hey, I’m not proud…a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do, right?

Well it worked…the puppy dog eyes with a few tears along with the bribery of ice cream and a trip to the Bookstore and they agreed to be happy and hang with me for the evening.

So we head out on our weekly Friday night of fun!

First we eat, then head to the book store. The book store is a favorite of ours. I usually grab some of my cheap trashy gossip magazines and pop a squat in the coffee shop while Hamilton and Gibson frolic the kids and independent reader sections. It’s a win win situation for all of us.

Except for this particular night…

I decided to mix up my reading repritore a little. Instead of my normal trashy gossip magazines I decided to use this opportunity as a research session for the book I am writing. So I grab a stack of books, including the following:

Still Hot: The Uncensored Guide to Divorce and Dating
Single Mom Seeking
He’s History, You’re Not
101 Things to do the First Year of Your Divorce.

Ideally my goal was to thumb through these books and get an idea of how these authors write and what they write about. As I sit down to read my books, I notice an odd looking gentleman a few seats down from me reading a book. I smile at him as I sit down, and this smile is the moment I realize the evening took a turn for the worse.

I feel “odd looking man” staring at me all evening, and I try very hard to ignore him. But every time one of my kids comes over to ask me a question he comments on how cute they are or how well behaved they are. I politely say “thank you” each time and quickly turn my attention back to my research material.

Suddenly I hear this…

Odd looking man: Guys are jerks, aren’t they?

I ignore it because I was so afraid this guy was talking to me and I didn’t want to talk to him. Then I hear this…

Odd looking man: I mean seriously…they are all jerks.

Out of pure embarrassment for this guy I look up and give him and awkward smile and a smirk. I move the research material closer to my face. I suddenly felt like a two year old playing hide and seek. You know kind of like “if I hide behind this book, he will never know I’m here.”

Odd looking man: Well except for me

Me: (taking his bait…when will I ever learn) excuse me?

Odd looking man: I can’t help but notice the books you are reading

Me: Oh these? Yeah, I’m writing a book and just doing a little research

Odd looking man: I’m not a jerk

Me: That’s nice

Suddenly, our awkward conversation was interrupted by Gibson. Thank God!

Gibson: (whispering in my ear) mom why is that man with no teeth and the funny glasses reading that book?

I glance over and am horrified to see a book with a very buff looking half naked man on the front. I quickly note that the author of the book’s last name is Merritt. I don’t know why I note this, I just do. I’m also the girl that reads license plate numbers on passing cars…you never know when you will need that useless information either…

Me:(whisper yelling at Gibson) I don’t know…now go find some books and give me some quite time.

Odd looking man: Your kids are so well behaved

Me: Thanks

Odd looking man: So do you date?

Me: Sometimes…

DOH! Why didn’t I just tell him “No” or “I’m in a relationship”? Why do I decide to be honest at this moment?

By this time Hamilton and Gibson are packed up and ready to go.

Odd looking man: I’m a great date

Me: That’s nice

Odd looking man: Are you from around here?

Me: (nervously packing up) Yes…I just live up the street

Odd looking man: I rode my bike up here

Me: (thinking to myself) of course you did

Odd looking man: Do you ever log onto dating websites?

Hamilton and Gibson are now pulling and tugging at my arms dying to leave

Me: No I don’t. Have a nice evening.

Odd looking man: Well my username is **********Robert on Plenty of Fish if you would like to contact me.

Gibson: Mom, what is plenty of fish?

Me: Ummm…it’s a game for adults

Gibson: oh, kind of like Barrel of Monkeys?

Me: Yes, Gibson, that’s exactly what it is…

So there you have it. That’s how I get picked up. You wanna see a picture of the guy that was trying to pick me up while my kids were with me?

Yep…he looked a little like this…



And the ride he would pick me up for our first date…it looked a little something like this…



Oh yea, you wanna know what book he was reading?

Yep…it was this one



…that’s right people, Gay Fiction.

I immediately went home and took a shower.

Uncomfortably comfortable

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to convince yourself that you are going to start your diet tomorrow when you are sitting on the couch fat and happy after a delicious meal? It’s this moment in my day that I often become my very own mental cheerleader. There is something about being uncomfortably comfortable that always makes me want to “start my diet tomorrow”. But then tomorrow comes and by 10am I have already blown it. And have somehow convinced myself that the next day will be the day I start.

I have this battle with myself almost every single day.

In one of these uncomfortably comfortable moments I even went so far as to advertise on my Facebook status that I was looking to borrow P90X from someone. I was shocked at the offers that came in. My friend, Kelly from high school sent me her copy right away. I got it two months ago, put it on top of my television and proceeded to stare at it every single night while I was in my uncomfortably comfortable stage.

Well, here it is Thursday and I’m already 4 days in to P90X. I’m loving it! It’s tough, but I feel so good when I’m done with a workout. And the best part is that I have not had one single moment of being uncomfortably comfortable.

Oh wait, I take that back…

Monday night after my workout, I did the unthinkable. I got my 9 year old, Hamilton out of bed at 9:30pm and told him that mommy needed a “favor”. He obliged…heck, he was just happy that he could stay up late…he didn’t care what the favor entailed. Quite frankly, I think he would have scrubbed toilets if it meant he didn’t have to be in bed.

That is until he realized what the “favor” was…

Yep, I solicited his help in taking my “before” pictures for the P90X program. He was completely mortified. I don’t know why…it was just me in a tank top and shorty shorts…what about that could possibly make a nine year old boy uncomfortable? Oh yeah, I’m his mom, I forgot!

Anyway, here is how our “photo shoot” went down…I’m not proud.

Me: Ham, this favor is very important. I wouldn’t have gotten you out of bed if I didn’t think you could handle the job.

Ham: What is it mom?

Me: Promise you won’t laugh?

Ham: Mom…come on, what is it?

Me: I need you to take some “before” pictures of me for my P90X program.

Ham: You’re not going to be naked, are you?

Me: No, what kind of mother do you think I am?

Ham: One that likes to run around naked in the mornings after you get out of the shower.

Me: Nice Ham, real nice Ham!

Ham: I’m just telling it like I see it.

Me: Don’t piss me off before we even get started.

Ham: Ok…but do I have to look while I am taking the pictures?

Me: How are you going to take the pictures if you aren’t looking?

Ham: Good point…

(first picture: me standing straight up tall in my shorty shorts against a blue wall)

Me: Ok…I’m ready

Ham: This is awkward…

Me: Just take the picture

(second picture: me standing straight up tall in my shorty shorts trying to show off my guns)

Me: Ok…I’m ready

Ham: Are you supposed to have muscles?

Me: No it’s the beginning of the program…just take the picture

Ham: You have a lot of work ahead of you if you want to look like you have muscles

Me: Just take the picture

Ham: This is awkward…

(third & final picture: me standing sideways in my shorty shorts)

Me: Ok…I’m ready

Ham: You may want to suck in your gut

Me: (trying not to sob uncontrollably) just take the picture Hamilton

Ham: This is awkward

Again, I’m not proud. I’m a single mom, which also means I am the family photographer. I’m never in any pictures unless I beg someone to take them. And never again will I beg my 9 year old son to take another picture of me…

Lesson learned!

Question...

How come this creepy guy...



...can manage to have two wives, while I can't even manage to find one good emotionally available boyfriend?

Yep...according to the today show, this guy is married to two seperate women. He of course denies it and says his original wife (not pictured)is crazy and he refuses to bad mouth her on television. I'm not saying she is completely innocent...but he just looks creepy enough to pull something like this off.

My cup runneth over

I know deep in my heart that God created me to be a mom of boys.

He knew I would do much better with football, dirt, and rambunctiousness. Something in him told him that I would not be good with emotions, hair bows, and make-up.

And he was so right!

Don’t get me wrong, my friends that have girls all do such an AWESOME job of being moms to them, but it’s just not for me. A friend of mine was telling me this weekend about shoe shopping with her eleven year old daughter and I think I sweat through the entire conversation. The thought of having to shop with daughters is very overwhelming to me. With boys, it’s easy…shorts, jeans, t-shirts and sweat pants, that’s it. They don’t care if they go together or match. As long as the shorts come below the knees and the t-shirts are a little oversized they are happy. And as long as they are clean when they put them on, I’m happy.

In general, I have it very easy with two boys. Or at least that is what I used to think.

Last night put a whole new perspective on being a single mom of two boys.

You see, it’s the beginning of football season. Normally shopping for football gear is something that Hamilton and Gibson do with their dad. But this year, I decided to help the Ex out and take the boys myself.

Yeah, I’m cool like that!

$217 later…we left Dick’s Sporting Goods…boys happy and content…me overwhelmed and in tears.

It never occurred to me what I would be subjected to when shopping for sporting equipment for my boys. I never dreamed it could be as bad as it was. In fact, this morning, I woke up in a cold sweat still shocked and overwhelmed by the events of the evening.

Yep…you guessed it, never in a million years did I think I would ever have to be buying one of these for my kids…



I was completely mortified!

I had no idea there were so many sizes and options.

Thank God we ran into one of Hamilton’s friends and his dad shopping for the same…ahem…”gear” because I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. And quite frankly, never did I think I would be carrying on a conversation with one of the football dads about the sizes of our boys “packages”.

It’s quite humbling and horrifying! But I absolutely love this dad…so it was kind of funny too!

Even more horrifying is when the cute Sales Guy comes over later to ask if I needed help. He said I looked confused…

We started carrying on a conversation about how he never had to wear a cup when he was playing football. Correct me if I’m wrong, but not only is it horrifying talking to strangers about your sons “junk” but it’s equally horrifying talking about the “junk” of said stranger…a cute, hunky, probably not legal kind of a stranger.

Anyway, thank God Gibson was there to bring us back down to reality because our conversation immediately came to an embarrassing halt when he yelled out from across the aisle…

”Hey mom…face facts, we need to wear the cup in case someone hits us in the balls. Let’s go already.”

Check please!

Top Ten Friday

Welcome to another edition of Top Ten Friday where I break it down.

But before we begin, I'm also guest posting at Southern Momentum today. Come check me out! I am their new "all things single" guru! Woot! Woot!

I was in Cincinnati yesterday for business and had to make an unexpected stop at WalMart on my way home. I was looking for a Target or SuperTarget because I despise WalMart, but couldn’t find one.

A few years ago, I swore I would never walk into a WalMart again, but yesterday, left me with no other options…So while I was patiently waiting in line with my one item behind the 10 people in front of me who were taking their own sweet time with super full carts and government checks, I was trying to think of ways to kill time.

Seriously, why does WalMart offer one thousand check out lanes but only open one at a time? I just don’t get it.

Anywho, in honor of my last visit ever to WalMart, I give you the Top Ten Things I like to do when I’m bored at WalMart.

You’re Welcome!

10. Ask to put a pack of gum on layaway.

9. Ride a display bike through the store and claim you’re taking it for a test drive.

8. Play frozen pizza Frisbee toss.

7. Start a game of hide and seek and see how many people you can get to join in.

6. Pull lawn chairs over to the demo tv’s and watch.

5. Hog the video game demos.

4. Put Kool-Aid in the toilets.

3. Throw a big exercise ball down the aisle and yell, “Go Pikachu Go.”

2. While looking at weapons in the hunting department, ask where the anti-depressants are.

And the number one thing I like to do when I’m bored at WalMart

1.Grab a basket full of condoms and birth control products and go to the oldest check-out person.

LIFE LESSONS: The one where I talk about the itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini

Last week was Spring Break in the He Who Laughs Last household. Hamilton and Gibson spent the first part of the week with their dad, swimming and hiking in southern Indiana and the second part of their week with me.

Because I like to be considered the cooler parent, I try to come up with fun ideas that I know their dad won’t do with them. So I stepped up to the plate and took them to Great Wolf Lodge for a couple of days. The boys consider this place “heaven on earth” while I refer to it as “the money pit.” Don’t get me wrong, we had a blast but dollar for dollar this place is a rip off.

Don’t worry this post is not going to be a complaint session, well, ok, maybe a slight complaint session! I really only had two issues the entire time we were there and none of them have to do with the actual facility.

First, let me tell you how much fun this place is. (6) major water slides that are all a blast, a water coaster that we couldn’t get enough of and an awesome splash park. I would highly recommend this place to everyone for a couple of days of fun.

So you might be asking yourself, what is it about this place that you don’t like Julie?

Well…here goes…

It’s this…


And this...


And this...


Yep…you guessed it, it was the moms and their itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikinis. I have one word that describes wearing these kinds of bikini’s at a facility like this…

INAPPROPRIATE!

Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely nothing wrong with an itsy bitsy bikini normally, but at a water park that is focused around those that are twelve and under it is not right. I’m not even saying that moms shouldn’t wear a bikini. Believe me, if I could, I would. But do you really have to wear your tiniest one? Don’t you have one with, let’s say, maybe 3 or 4 inches of material.

Something more than four triangles and couple of strings is all I ask.

And my second issue is this…this is what we spent a majority of our time doing...





Yep, we played water basketball…

Lessons learned:

1. The more material the better when it comes to the bikini at a water park

2. Supply your kids with a hoop, ball, and baby pool full of water and you spare yourself the $500 expense of a couple of days at a water park.