Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Too Tired

I should have podcasted my conversation with Logan, because now it's late and I have to jump back into my life tomorrow at full speed. Meeting my pals was so nice, even better than expected. Talking about certain issues was very emotional for me, I'll tell you more but it needs to be said: I seem to use tears to manipulate those around me. What an ass I am.

Before I go to sleep, on my way to California (in first class, where I sat on the flight attendants lap....just because I wanted to see if she'd do it) something horrifying happened. I sat next to a man who was traveling with his wife and daughter across the aisle from us. I was clearing out files and trashing old things when in my Suburbanbliss Design folder I saw something titled porn.jpg. I realize this was a little stupid on my part, but I wondered....did I create a new banner making fun of porn and I don't remember it? So I double clicked.

Right about that time my seat mate became intrigued with the laptop and wanted to see how it worked...and right as he began looking, there it was: A picture of women giving and receiving cunnilingus. It was a black and white shot and actually tasteful for porn. Thank God.....however.

I SHOWED A MAN A PICTURE OF WOMEN HAVING ORAL SEX WHILE ON A FIRST CLASS FLIGHT ACROSS THE COUNTRY.

Logan often changes my desktop from the very subdued pattern I have it set on to a "classy" porn shot just to annoy me. Why he stored the picture in my design folder is beyond me but holy fucking shit. I still can't believe I did that. I also can't believe how far my bloody mary went when I sprayed it all over. Jesus.

I promise more tomorrow. 8 hours of travel starting at 7am when I left Alice with really crazy hair standing straight up, has worn me out.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you for letting this happen to me. Here are my flickr shots to hold you over. I also favorited a bunch of others I found.

Leaving.

Were you aware that my 6am departure tomorrow morning is actually 3am California time.

Do you think the flight attendant in first class will spoon me if I ask?

I always love my kids so much more the night before I leave for a weekend away. How ironic.

I wish vacation bible school was all summer.

I have the best life ever. I know I don't always talk like that but my Holy God In Heaven this Vacation Bible School fucking RULES! (I'll be sure to say that to the pastor at the church, just so he knows how much I appreciate it.) My friend Chrissy wasn't going to send her kids to Vacation Bible School. She said, "Oh no, we aren't going...we're heathens."

My eyes widened and I said, "Do you read my fucking website? I'm a heathen. They could inoculate my children with the actual soul of the devil and I'd be okay with it if I got 3 hours alone."

Even heathens need a few days off and their children need to learn about how great God is! So she decided to send them and every morning at drop off we high five as we run from the building. Freedom is divine. God is good every fucking day! But since I already wrote about the mysterious and wonderful ways God loves me today at BloggingBaby, I'm going to talk about something else.

What I really wanted to talk about was the fact that parenting Madison is sometimes very difficult and sometimes I think I've totally screwed her up. She's always struggled with new situations, even as a baby. She hated being passed around from person to person, she didn't like loud family dinners and took her time warming up to people she didn't see all the time. Remember the first day of school last year? If you'd told me back then that this year I'd take her to activities which did not involve me and she would kiss me goodbye and march right in, I would have punched you in the face. But my daughter grows and changes and watching her blossom and gain confidence in this world is the most rewarding feeling.

Yesterday I dropped her off at vacation bible school and she kissed me good bye and off she went. No tears or clinging to my leg or begging me to take her home with me. She said on the way there, "Do you ever feel like your heart is half excited and half scared? That's how I feel now."

It seems like she's learning she doesn't have to let herself get overwhelmed with the nervousness. She can feel nervous or scared and do it anyway. She's always been the kind of kid who is intuitive and smart and maybe even smarter than serves a child very well because everything is new and therefore a little scary. For the last six years I've been hoping she'd outgrow it or that it was a phase but I also started to worry that I'd have to leave her at college sobbing while she chased my car down the road.

I know I have enough evidence of the things I'm doing wrong, sometimes it's nice to see maybe I'm doing some of the important things right.

More Black Beans!

Ha! I'm kidding. No more black beans for all of you. But in this house, we're not done yet. Black bean pasta. Mexican black beans, corn and potatoes (apparently putting cumin on anything makes it 'mexican'! Ole!).

Tonight we picked up Logan from the airport. For those of you counting, he's been gone for 9 days. Those days could have gone a hell of a lot worse but I hate when he's gone on the weekends, and two weekends alone with the kids was two too many. He was in Redondo Beach and also Manhattan Beach and he loved it. I wish he had a blog so he could tell you about it, but he doesn't, so too bad. When Logan got off the plane he was completely stifled by the suffocating heat of Michigan. It seems backwards doesn't it? That my husband comes from California, which I think of as pretty hot in July, only to say that he wishes he could go back. Further evidence that Michigan is trying to kill me.

By the time we got to the airport, my eyeball kept popping out of my skull everytime someone asked me a question. Another question. Another story. ((((POP))) I held my eyeball in my skull while watching the planes taking off realizing that in less than a week, I would be on this road, with both my eyeballs in my head, going on my own trip. Thank you Jesus (or Fairy Godmother.)

I didn't tell you this before because my life is a fairy tale right now and someone is going to shoot me because I'm so ridiculously lucky but on Friday I'll be flying first class to Blogher. I'm flying first class thanks to my Fairy Godmother and also because the only award travel left was first class. I never wanted fly first class because I didn't want to know what it was like behind that little curtain they pull closed. Do they all sit around and laugh at the steerage behind them? Do they laugh over drinks? Because I'm willing to laugh at the steerage for drinks.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to Blogher and I'm looking forward to California but honestly I have dreams of my flight from Michigan to California. In my dreams I'm wrapped in a down comforter and it's just cold enough it feels good to curl up and I snooze. This is what my dreams are, I dream of sleeping on an airplane.

This is going to be the best week of the summer by far. Because tomorrow I drop my kids off at Vacation Bible School/Satanic Day Camp for 3 hours. Yes, yes, I know. Satanic Day Camp? You're thinking, 'That just doesn't seem like a good idea.'

But no, it is. All summer I've been waiting for this and I don't care if my kids learn about Jesus or the Dark Prince. If I get four days of freedom from nine to noon, teach them whatever the hell you want. Judge if you want but I figure one week of Satanism never hurt anyone.

I'd like to tell you that yes, the content here will improve with the children away but Blogging Baby beckons me. You know how you could help me? Is there something you think is missing from Blogging Baby? Do you have a tip or a scoop or something you'd like to read there? I would absolutely love to hear about it.

Call me okay? Except I hate the phone! So just email it! melissasummers_at_wowway_dot_com

I almost forgot the most important part: What the hell do I wear to Blogher? I can't believe there hasn't been a post at the Official Site discussing clothing choices. Are we women?

I know this is so horrible to even bring up and every single person I know in this world reads this website at this point but can we all start praying my period starts early because otherwise it's starting at Blogher and I know that is the ultimate in 'femaleness' (my friend Leslie, a former teacher, remarked on how often I make up words on this website....there's another one!) but please save me from that.

Since I said that horrible thing, let's also just get this out in the open. I know I appear to be a certain way on this blob. I swear a lot and I say inappropriate things or "bordering on outrageous" (what the hell does that mean?) things. But in my regular life people generally think a few things about me.

"What a bitch. She doesn't even make eye contact with me."

or

"I guess she doesn't like me because she isn't talking to me."

or

"That whore ruined my family!"

or (on the phone)

"Wow, she must be busy with something because she barely talked to me just now."

I am feeling a lot of pressure to be witty and foul mouthed in California this weekend. I am neither particularly foul mouthed or witty in person.

Also, my Ass. He's very talkative and imposing and he may offend everyone I meet.

Now, I need to go to bed with my husband who is home after 9 days. When he left we had thoroughly masculine bedding and now, it's Candy Striper!

The Blogher Black Bean Diet

As we all know, I'm going to Blogher to deliver my patented Awkward Hugs™.

As we all also know, money is the bane of my existence. Since I am going to Blogher even though my family can barely make it through each month, I'm attempting to save our food budget this month so that I can enjoy myself in California.

The food budget is helped quite a bit by Logan's ever extending trip to California. The children barely eat anything but fresh fruit and Trader Joe's fruit leathers. I've been eating black beans. A lot of black beans. Which is our unfortunate approach to budget crisis. March of this year involved a LOT of black beans.

You're asking yourself, "How does one prepare a plethora of meals out of black beans?"

I'm answering, "Well, I'm desperate for content. Here you go!"   

Photographic Evidence.

I'm so sorry I've been busy. I have nothing to share, except I thought you might like to see some examples of my awkward hugs.

Here we have an incredibly awkward hug. Note the way my eyes are closed and my arm isn't really even hugging. Rather, I'm 'touching'.

In this photo we see me being unable to notice my hugging partner no longer wants to hug. So I keep clinging and clinging and PLEASE LET GO OF HER RIGHT NOW!!!!

In other news: I started writing for Blogging Baby yesterday. It took me pretty much all day to learn the program and read the style guide and download a new browser (Hey! Firefox is nice!) and when I finished my first post (FYI: If I were Jude Law's nanny I wouldn't want you to fire me) I was so happy until I saw it published and it looked so very small.

I had high hopes that this one would be more remarkable, considering the time it took me to figure out how to link a photo (if you go read it, click that picture damn it!). But there it is in it's small, quick to read glory and well, let's all hope I get a little better at this!

That is all because now, I am living and breathing news reports. That's all the room there is in my brain. Well that and I have to clean my house because it's my turn to host playgroup. I should also mow the lawn because it's horrifying and Logan taught me how! Hey great, thanks honey! Also my mom is coming over to help me make a shirt out of some delicious Amy Butler fabric.

I'll let you know how it turns out.

Thanks to everyone who emailed me about this site appearing in the Chicago Tribune yesterday. Now everyone knows how awesome my mom friends are!

I sort of wish I was the nanny, and someone would fire me because they read this.

Could someone fire me? Now?

It's just bedtime at this point. Madison's bedtime makes me wish I'd sterilized myself while I actually was nannying for her because I would have been warned. Other than the two hour bedtime routine Madison has subscribed to, which involves: "White floaty things in the air", "Something just broke! I heard it!", "The Oompa Loompas are scaring me.....", "I heard something FALLING!" Other than the bedtime routine things in Summer Hell are going remarkably well.

I don't really want to talk about this because there's something much larger looming.

Yesterday I saw the picture of my kids and my Ass which was taken on Friday at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Yes, I thought it was a picture of my kids and myself, but when I actually saw the picture there was my Ass, screaming for attention.

At first I thought it wasn't my ass jutting out from behind me. I thought it was a part of the painting behind me, or a Mack truck rolling through the Ford Hall. But no! It was my Ass.

My kids appear to be having a great time with my Ass. Of course they're doubting what it's telling them about the great murals in front of us, but can you blame them? What does my Ass know when it's stuffed into my pants?

Ha ha ha. I'm laughing because if I don't laugh I'll jump from the attic window or do something really horrible like stop drinking this stupid fucking beer.

The saddest thing about realizing how huge my stupid Ass is, is realizing I'll need to buy another seat for my Ass on the plane to Blogher.

Tonight this post has been doomed from Madison's bedtime bullshit (fire me! Please!) to Max's 11:23pm wake up and insistence I sleep with him. He's serious. Please fire me. Please.

I have one more unrelated thing to write because this post wasn't nearly as disjointed as my Ass would like. Today we had our "Park Pals" playdate and Chrissy! My favorite pal! Was HOME after two weeks away and it turns out the work my other pals Andrea and Leslie have been doing to help me lose the hugging paranoia is working. Today I arrived at "Park Pals" and was overwhelmed with the desire to hug and thankfully Chrissy was in the mood to accept a hug. An entirely shocking hug coming from me. She actually said, "Wow, you guys broke her!"

They did but also I'm so happy Chrissy is back home. My stay at home world is back in balance. It's not that life stopped while she was away, which is good because Chrissy is my female Logan, except I don't want to have sex with her everytime she leaves me for an extended period of time. She is like Logan in the sense that she puts herself out there and meets lots of different people and because of that I've met Andrea and Leslie and also Stephanie. It's nice to know those friendships still work when Chrissy isn't there like a pair of training wheels for Socially Challenged Me (and my Ass).

God I'm annoyingly cheesy late at night when my Ass is distracting me along with my children.

Tonight as I wrote this post the truths I've come to know about my children were played out. Madison has always since infancy cried for 10 to 15 minutes before she fell asleep, but once she's asleep she stays asleep all night long, since she was 6 weeks old. Max has always gone to sleep without any fuss. Tuck him in and 3 minutes later he's asleep, which is a lot like Logan. I know Logan falls asleep within 3 minutes because when I try to discuss things which bother me 4 minutes after turning off the light, he's dead to the world. Max falls asleep easily but always woke up several times in the night until he was nearly 2 years old.

At this point I don't know which I prefer. Actually I do know what I prefer, I prefer Logan being here to deal with all of this bull shit.

I have a new 'job'!

This morning I read this at Blogging Baby (I swear to God this is related to what I wanted to write about tonight). I read the piece at the New York Times and even as I read it I thought to myself, 'This woman is a bitch.'

She fired her nanny and wouldn't tell her why, but then wrote about it in the New York Times? She felt somewhat violated by posts she thought were about her and her husband. She felt uncomfortable with her nanny expressing her sexuality or discussing her non work activities. She was angry because (((((gasp))))) her nanny had the nerve to blog while the baby napped. I know that when my own children are napping I wait by their bedroom door just waiting for them to wake up! Ms. Olein mentions how the nanny crossed the line when she wrote she had "Contemplated sterilizing myself yesterday."

This one makes me laugh. Loudly. During the summer hardly a day goes by that I don't wish I'd sterilized myself before being over run with "The Bickerson's", and these are the children I love more than myself. It's hardly unacceptable that a nanny had a bad day and vented about it, she didn't suggest dipping her young charges in chocolate and eating them.

On the other hand, I once had a babysitter who asked me after a night of sitting, "What should I do if he doesn't stop crying?" That simple sentence left me feeling insecure with this babysitter and I didn't use her again. We all have different levels of comfort and that's fine, of course I didn't write an essay in the New York Times calling my babysitter a promiscuous alcoholic.

My theory is that Ms. Olen simply wanted to get back at her ex nanny in some way. That Ms Olen was hurt by the breaking of this "myth" (as she called it) that her nanny lived to serve her in a domestic way and did not exist in a human sense outside of their family.

I thought all of this before I even read the nanny's rebuttal which only confirmed my suspcions.

I kept hoping I'd come up with more than, "My God, that Helaine Olen is a heinous witch." I haven't. Although, I find it so ironic that Ms Olen's article was titled The New Nanny Diaries Are Online and her nanny's blog had only a miniscule amount of reference to her job as the Olen Family nanny. Now, though, in her rebuttal.....the shit hits the fan.

Ms Olen looks like a spiteful bitch, and in spite of myself I think it's well deserved.

UPDATED TO ADD: I found The Annotated Times and here are more blogs talking about what a moron Ms Olen is. Weeeeee!

==========================

I'm funny about fax machines. The fax machine is for me what 'Call Waiting' is to my mother. She doesn't understand it. The mechanics of it, the technology of it, she doesn't trust it: when she hits 'flash' she seems to believe she'll either hang up on someone or the phone will explode in her face.

I'm able to do some pretty technologically savvy things. I can set up a wireless network in my home, I can set up domain mapping for my website, I can pay bills out of our checkbook which is empty! Yet, when I attempt to use a fax machine I can't quite trust that when I type in a number and put paper into a phone-like contraption a document will be sent somewhere? Funny though, that I send a dozen emails everyday and never once question the mechanics of the process.

Usually I send anything I need faxed with Logan to the office but since Logan is now in California....I had to send a fax all by myself today.

I appears to have worked and a signed contract with WeblogsInc arrived in the hands of the correct party and I'm going to be a contributing writer at Blogging Baby!

Hey!

And Judith Meskill, editorial director with WeblogsInc. will be speaking at Blogher. I love the internet.

I do not love Helaine Olin though. At all.

Art As Time Killer.

Today I took the kids to Detroit to check out the DIA.

We had planned on going yesterday but at 10:45 am, while I was in the shower (shut up, I was awake until 3 am!), Maxwell had a massive missing dad fit. Which, hey! Great news. You think daddy's been gone a lot this week with all the photo shoots [orgies with hot models]? Guess what!? Daddy is going on a big bike ride this weekend and then he'll be home for 20 minutes before flying off to California for a week.

Tip: This isn't what you want to say to a child who's really missing his father.

So instead of the museum yesterday I drove the kids out to the lake where Logan and a crew of many people were shooting photos. Apparently Logan sent away all the slutty models because I was coming...or else maybe my fancy new "Man Saving Lingerie" is working!

Frankly I'm not big on anything which involves "Man Saving" because I'm not big on "Man Saving"...I prefer my man to either be here or not.

But that's beside the point. Today we went to the DIA and looked at art. While browsing the Rivera Murals, a (very handsome) photographer approached us about taking some pictures for an article someone at the Free Press is working on.

I think he said the story spin was: "White people are afraid of Detroit, so what the hell are you doing here?"

I immediately smirked because remember when I drove to Detroit and said all of this? If the reporter calls to talk about my feelings about visiting Detroit, I'm sending her the link.

When he finished taking pictures he asked me if I was involved with art for work or if I was a teacher because I'd had so much to tell Madison about the pictures. Which I took as a compliment. Also, while Logan's gone for the next week....I'll take it as flirting because we all know what happens when I miss Logan for too long. I hope he has some "wife saving fancy underpants" in his collection.

I told the photographer that no, I don't teach or work in the art field. I told him that it's summer and in the summer I spend most of the day attempting not to eat my children. I can't eat them in public and I also can't eat them if I'm busy talking. So, we talked a lot about the murals.

He looked at me with sleepy bedroom eyes and said, "You can talk to me about modern industry and Diego Rivera all night long......."

No, he didn't.....but while Logan's gone I'll pretend he did.

Heavenly Playgroup.

Logan and I did go to dinner on Tuesday night. We ended up driving all the way to Clarkston, which is 30 miles away. We love the Clarkston Union (we do not love their lack of a website) and decided that driving 30 miles for dinner wasn't a bad idea since we'd be alone, in a car talking.

Back in the days before children when we'd wake up at 10am on a Saturday, have sex, go back to sleep until 3pm and then kill time until our evening plans started, we drove up to the Union a lot. Back then we had something we don't have now. Tons of time!

I would have pictures, because of course we took some but I am currently unable to locate the cord for my camera.

We had a wonderful time and I enjoyed staring at my handsome husband all while counting all my "glorious blessings". And then wee giggling gnomes came flying out my ass and I counted those blessings too.

I love my playgroup. Have I mentioned how they are collectively saving my ass this summer?

A few weeks ago Chrissy read on this website that I was going to drown my children in their wading pool and even though she was getting ready to leave town for nearly 2 weeks, she called and said, "Get over here right now."

And I did and our children played for several hours and I asked if I could just live there for the rest of the summer.

Yesterday we met for playgroup at Stephanie's house. Stephanie is the kind woman who allows me to do dirty things to her furniture and she never judges me. She's added a chaise to her living room since the last time I fondled her belongings, so I had some alone time with it yesterday.

There were 11 children at this playgroup. Eleven.

Somehow during the playgroup we decided we should do something every Wednesday evening, starting tonight. But Logan was working late (hot model orgy), again. So they all came over to my stupid house. I love them.

We talked a lot, often all at once just like the children. We played a game and we chatted in depth about my issues with hugging. People seem to be incredibly intrigued with the 'why' of my hollow and pathetic hugs. So we hugged, I even have pictures, but again the stupid cord.

At 1 o'clock in the morning Logan ran out and got us food from the coney in town. How could you not want to jump into this man's delicate underwear? He brought back greasy food and we all put it directly on our asses because you know that's where it went, why bother digesting it? But it really tasted good and also, I don't even have a hangover this morning.

However, I am incredibly tired. The night ended at 3 o'clock in the f-ing morning. What the fuckity fuck? I've spent all morning thinking about Leslie (who has an 8 week old, a 20 month old, a 3 year old and a 3 year old...who are not twins) and Andrea (who has a 4 year old, a 2 year old and a 17 month old).

Stephanie and I have the luxury of children who can do some things for themselves. For example, Madison can get a large knife to stab Max in the eye ball with all by herself! (School starts August 29!) I can guiltily take a nap at some point today or lay on the sofa all day getting up only to refill my water bottle. But they're in charge of little people.....I'm so sorry.

They can't even complain to their spouses about how tired they are or else they'll never be able to come over anymore. Their husbands will learn what a really bad influence I am.

Last night we all felt a little open hearted with each other and as Logan went to bed, he stopped in the doorway and said, "I'm really happy you guys know each other."

What he meant to say was, "If my wife hadn't met you all, our children would be dead."

And that is just barely an exaggeration. Barely.

Anniversary.

Today was the best day of the entire summer even though last night at 10pm, Logan came to bed and said, "I have really bad news. Shit...."

I said, "Ha ha. What?"

He said, "I forgot I have a nighttime photo shoot [with hot models] tomorrow night. Fuck. I'm so sorry."

I said, "On our anniversary you'll be having a late night photo shoot [slash orgy with hot models]? Seriously?"

He said, "God I'm so sorry. I didn't forget, I got a sitter so we could go to dinner. I just forgot this photo shoot was scheduled."

Last night, after he told me this news, I felt really sad. It was a kind of sad I have experienced before but have usually been so sad I haven't been able to think about the physical sensation of that sadness. But last night I was just vaguely sad and sometimes sadness feels like small adrenaline bursts starting at your heart. Of course that could have been a mild panic attack and maybe I feel panic as sadness. I need a therapist.

It's odd I felt so sad because I'm not the type of person who's particularly romantic about events. I prefer romantic gestures to be on a non descript day. I prefer chinese food on a Wednesday, for no reason other than I like General Tso's chicken from Peking House and Logan thought to pick it up for me on the way home from work.

Logan went in to work early this morning (as usual....grrrrr.....) and told me later he'd expected a particularly biting post to be left at my website about the anniversary mistake. This website is way too much power for me to possess, someone should be editing me. But I didn't write anything because I quickly realized I wasn't upset with Logan I was actually really PISSED at Logan's stupid fucking job. But then as I write this I realize, Logan's job is the only thing keeping my family out of a van down by the river, so what the hell am I complaining about?

Why was this day the best day of the summer then? My children were gone all day. This morning at 10:30 they were picked up by my favorite friend ever. She took them to Mexico where they were sold into the slave trade, but just for the day, so relax. I didn't see them again until 5:00pm. Sweet Mary Mother of Pearl.

Frankly, I feel uneasy with this much 'good stuff' happening to me. But, if good things would like to keep happening to me, I'm totally fine with that too.

With my day of freedom, I browsed a box of my wedding photos and found some unrelated memorabilia.

Then I met Logan for lunch, at a very romantic coney island where he took two calls from work in the 42 minutes he had to give his wife on their 8th anniversary. I also went fabric shopping, which is a guilty pleasure of mine you may not know about. God I love fabric. Logan stopped by the house at about 1:30pm on his way to the first part of the photo shoot. Of all the days of this summer for a co worker of Logan's to stop by, this is the day they chose. The day I was laying on my ass on the sofa reading a book without a single child in sight. The day which is unlike any day I've experienced in the last six months. But now Logan's coworkers will think this is what I do all day. Sit around whining about my husband's job while I read books and send my children far, far away.

But this is all beside the point. Today I'd like to relive my wedding day.

On my wedding day I was really happy and also really skinny. When I look at the pictures from that day, I wonder how it is I prevented myself from gnawing the mayor's (who officiated) arm off whilst screaming, 'PROTEIN! Give me PROTEIN!' Because I must have been really fucking hungry.

My wedding day was the most purely happy day of my life. The days of my children's births were the most profound days, but the day of my wedding involved no forceps or removal of my uterus. I was just happy. I was also hungry, but I didn't realize how hungry I was.

I'm not unhappy today, I'm also not at all hungry, but I am feeling a lot more, exhausted, by the pressure of life. I didn't think Logan and I would ever feel this way. I remember when we bought this house we would play basketball on the driveway and our neighbors laughed and said, "We used to play together! Ha ha ha!" and I couldn't imagine a day we wouldn't have so much fun together.

The sad thing is, we want to have that much fun together and when we have the time, thank God, we do have that much fun together. But those times we have the time, are just so far apart. Logan's work life has taken over. It's absorbed the basketball on the driveway. That makes me really sad.

I don't know how to do it differently but I keep telling myself that we had these children early. That we did things backwards so that we have to work our asses off when we're young and in our 50's, the children will leave. On my flight to San Antonio in May I heard a couple in the row ahead of me discussing their children with another passenger. The husband said, "Well, our kids don't have to move out when they're 18, but we're leaving. They can pay the mortgage if they want."

I have faith, which at times gets shaky, that Logan and I will be off and running once we get our kids through college. We'll just have to make sure we do enough maintenance through these hard years as Logan builds a career and I figure out where I fit in, so that we still know how to have fun with each other.

Tomorrow night we're celebrating our anniversary, it better be fun.

Awkward Hugs™ To Blogher

I spent two days walking around talking to myself about Blogher. Emails were sent back and forth furiously, trying to come up with some way to make this happen. I was open to them mind you because this is a once in a lifetime chance to meet some of my favorite people who, get this, actually exist outside of my computer!

I'd come up with a plan to accept donations in the name of bringing my patented Awkward Hugs™ to Blogher. It's important, I thought, to have awkward hugs at any convention and I am an extremely awkward hugger.

But I needed more than that for donations, since I am hardly a charitable cause. People who scrimp and save $750 (minus a few amazon gift cards! Thank you!) to buy a very pricey camera are not charity worthy really. So I came up with a few incentives, like when you donate to PBS and they send you a Caillou doll to throw darts at for a $200 donation.

Alice offered up nude pictures of Mrs Kennedy for a $50 donation. Mrs Kennedy suggested that for $100 I post pictures of me making out with Dooce. Which I could not agree to simply because I can barely hug people, I'm not making out with someone.

So I went to bed with all these ideas in my head and I laid awake thinking of them for hours and hours.

But in the morning I checked my email and a very kind, very giving woman offered me her miles with American Airlines and guess what? I wet my pants, yelled and screamed and ran around the house and now I am forever in debt to my fairy godmother. Jesus I still can't believe this happened. I still can not believe it.

But I have more thank yous because Flippy is my children's fairy godmother and sent all sorts of fun things to try to keep my children entertained so that I don't kill them. And really, she couldn't have sent this prize packet at a better time since Logan is heading out of town a week from today for eight very long days.

Finally, I have to send Victoria a thank you as well. She sent me a paypal donation which was so kind and generous I feel embarrassed. I'll be sure to send her the pictures of Mrs Kennedy nude just as soon as I'm at Blogher.

Hooray for the Internet. I love you even when you don't give me things but you've no idea how great this is. Thank you thank you thank you.

There is so much to talk about today. Much of it is so good and my God people are nice but then what's happened in London. Today is not the day to share my good news.

I usually don't let this type of thing onto this website because it is rare I can say anything worthwhile about massive tragedy. Today is no different. After 9/11 I had nothing to say, Logan and I and two of our friends just sat on the porch, crying.

I have nothing to say now. My heart is breaking for London.

I am what one might call, fucked.

I feel as if I'm being plotted against in my attempts to attend Blogher.

Remember when I went to San Antonio for a quick little vacation? Remember I used Logan's frequent flyer miles to take a very spur of the moment trip? My limited understanding of award travel since I've flown a total of 10 times in my entire life, led me to believe frequent flyer trips took 25,000 miles no matter where you flew in the 49 states and Canada.

Apparently, this is not the case as I found out tonight.....after I spent $125 transferring 10,000 miles from Logan's account to mine. I've been on the phone trying to find another carrier who would take me to San Jose or even San Francisco for 25,000. I even offered 25,000 miles and a very well executed blow job.

There are no options but I was encouraged to call back every few days to see if someone would like a very well executed blow job.

I feel: deflated. This trip was hard enough to justify when the trip was to cost $300-$400. But now, it's an $850+ trip and I, no matter how I attempt to wrap my brain around that, can not justify that. I am the queen of justification, but this is just too much.

I am: depressed. I'm going to have to turn off my computer for the late part of July and the early part of August. The pain of not being a part of this party and the slumber party and the making out is just too much.

I'm turning off comments on this post. I can't handle the cajoling. When it was time to spend $300-$400 I was open to being convinced. But this is too much.

Plus, admitting that you have no savings, no credit available for fun things, no disposable income for things that physically hurt not to do is frankly, embarrassing. I hate that this is my life. I am ashamed that we have no money for fun. I wish our life was different. But it's not and I need to accept that.

Weekend News.

Saturday we had our friend's John and Julie over for dinner. They brought their 17 month old little girl.

This is their little girl:

Yes, red curly hair, chubby cheeks and totally edible thighs. She started to seduce me with her perfect baby ways when she walked in our house and said, "Tired tired" (she says everything twice, although she never said 'Bored, bored') and her parents said, "No, you're not tired you just had a 3 hour nap this afternoon."

I'm often tired even after a long nap, so I clearly got the wrong baby at the hospital. Also I got mine 4-6 years early.

At dinner Logan put together plates for the kids of turkey dogs and apple slices. Or, in Mary's case, "The Choking Sampler". It's amazing how you forget in 3 short years that you can't just slice a hot dog into windpipe sized chunks and serve it up to a toddler. Mary ate a little of her 'kid friendly plate' but then, she ate a bunch of small pieces of the fucking tuna steak her mom was eating.

Logan and I stared at each other with the most awed look on our faces and began plotting, silently between us, how we would steal this child who actually puts new foods in her mouth, with enthusiasm.

Thankfully before we put the plan into action the baby spit the food out all over the table and tried to wipe the taste off her tongue. But still she tried it. If I was to have another baby, I'd start feeding it sushi and barbque ribs at birth.

On Friday night we went to dinner with Leslie, the Bionic Mother, and her husband Tom. It started like a normal night. Dinner and drinks.

But then Logan found his latest victim in his evil plot to make everyone do karaoke with him at some point.

I'm guessing Tom and Leslie woke up Saturday morning and said to themselves, "Did we do karaoke with Logan last night?" To that I say, Yes. Yes you did. And I'm sorry.

In other news: We're going swimming today in a real pool. I am planning on going but not wearing a bathing suit because I am currently in the most self loathing mood toward my body. However it's going to be 91 degrees today!

Awesome plan!

The Easy Way Out.

I thought my PMS had started to clear up until last night while Logan and I sat on the porch (he had an actual night off!) and began talking about how I'm gaining weight and how I don't really like running anymore. I'm tired of the Runners Trots.

Logan will kill me for saying this. Logan thinks nothing of running and in mile 4 crapping himself and then at the finish going to the port-a-john and discarding his soiled underwear. We're kind of coming from totally different ends of the spectrum because I would think a lot of very negative things about crapping in my pants and then throwing my underwear away at the end of a run.

You would think we might have learned to not discuss fitness with each other because every single time we do I feel like my husband is an image obsessed art director in the appearance obsessed world of agency advertising and I end up slamming doors and calling him names and going to bed. Mad. Which according to our marital therapist, is okay sometimes. I think she meant it was more ideal than beating a dead horse until 5 o'clock in the morning because prior to her telling me sometimes it was okay to go to bed angry, that was my not incredibly effective approach.

So yes, PMS is still weighing me down a bit and also weighing me down is the fact that I've really gotten fat again. Unfortunately I feel uncomfortable in my own skin when I am this weight so I have to do something. However, I also hate to make sacrifices as Logan pointed out last night. He also pointed out that this is how I approach my whole life. I don't like things to be too hard.

And it's true I suppose. I don't like to crap my pants, I prefer an easier method of exercise. I don't want to live on Turkey Jerky for a year until I lose so much weight I don't even look like myself like Logan did. But still he does have a point. I like solutions which are livable and since I tend to like things to be 'easy' the solutions that are workable for me are those which are easily worked into my life.

I remember explaining my in ability to endure to a therapist as I decided what I wanted to do after high school. I had just been surviving the first 16 years of my life. I felt exhausted and like I couldn't endure anything else which was unpleasant and perhaps that is why I am so incredibly lazy about everything.

Speaking of lazy. I think on the kid vs mom summer front I am simply going to have to be 'one of those moms' who schedules activities. I don't want to because like I said, I'm really lazy. But if we sit in this house I become increasingly angry at how my children are unable to entertain themselves.

Many of your suggestions were helpful, but mostly they made me feel tired because as Logan pointed out, I like the easy way. The easy way would be to hire a nanny to entertain them!

Instead I am going to write out a schedule and every single day we are going to do something. On the list so far:

The zoo (again....I'm starting to HATE the zoo)

The DIA ($4 admission for adults, $1 for kids!)

The COSI in Toledo (think of all the burned daylight in the car driving to Toledo!)

Free kids movies on Wednesday at Star theaters.

Park Pals

Playgroups

I am trading sitting with Chrissy and her excellent kids (who are perfect matches for my kids) I may ask her if I can have her kids like 4 days a week just because 2 of my kids + 2 of her kids= maybe 1/2 a kid.

Hiking at Cranbrook

Out to lunch once a week.

We'll try the park by ourselves but again, my kids have no idea how to play so that's just begging for disaster.

Our library is closed so we're going to go to every library in the area. We started yesterday.

Maddie is signed up for a zoo camp, Max already attended his.

They have a week of vacation bible school at the end of July.

Logan is hoping to get a week off so we can go up north for a week (if we can use the cabin....pray). Please let this happen.

I think I'll sign maddie up for an art camp at the pottery painting studio in town, maybe we'll stop by today since it's payday. That will kill two mornings.

I want to go to the gym everyday so that will kill an hour at the end of the day, the witching hour.

There are 8 weeks left of summer vacation. If we can get Logan a new car this year and a new computer, perhaps next summer I can have enough money saved for day camp.

Because I like the easy way out.