It's a Playground

not an ashtray, or a toilet, or a king sized vibrating bed in a low budget motel.

It is a place where children, innocent C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N, go to play.

It's supposed to be safe, and inviting, and free of venereal disease transmitting debris.

So, in my infinite wisdom I've decided to compile a list of playground don'ts to help those less informed members of society learn to navigate a playground with ease and assurance.

(Please note that when I say "I've decided" that is to imply that Mama Kat decided when she selected the prompts for this week's Writer's Workshop. I know it appears that I am attempting to take credit for her bright ideas, but that is not entirely (partly, but not entirely) true. I'm convinced that since Mama K (my new term of endearment for her) and I met recently we are connected on a more existential level and that we are now sharing thoughts that other, regular people, are not privy to. It's like our brains are co-mingling at all times (which sucks for her because I'm sure that the constant images of JT shakin' his money maker are starting to make her ill). So, for future reference, just know that if Mama K comes up with a particularly awesome idea, you know, something super innovative and impressive, it probably really came from me.)

What Not to Do at the Playground (provided you don't enjoy being stoned)

DON'T SMOKE at the playground and leave the butt in the sand box so that my one year old picks it up and starts sucking on it while I'm Tweeting to @jtimberlake. I need other people to not behave like neglectful, inconsiderate losers so that when I'm feeling like doing so there aren't so many dangers lying around to make it impossible.

DON'T HAVE SEX at the playground and leave the condom (although round of applause for safety!) in the sandbox so that my one year old picks it up and starts sucking on it while I'm Tweeting to @jtimberlake. Okay, he didn't actually get it into his mouth, but he did have it filled with sand and was attempting to bat at other children with it.

DON'T LET YOUR DOG DEUCE in the grass adjacent to the playground. I have a really bad habit of forgetting #3's shoes at home and then letting him run barefoot through the park. Allowing your rat-tailed mutt to leave his excrement in random places causes me to swear loudly when #3 slips in it. So now, not only am I being ostracized for having a sh** footed toddler, but I am being glared at for my creative expression as well. I mean the bags are RIGHT. THERE.

DON'T PUT YOUR DOG ON THE SLIDE. It's just ridiculous and when my kid punches your dog in the throat because it lumbered into his personal space, don't look all aghast at me. Your bad. It clearly states that this playground is for C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N between the ages of 0 and 12, and for the record people-who-haven't-had-kids-yet-but-like-to-pretend-their-pets-are-their-babies, if it didn't actually slide outta your vajayjay or get ripped from a seriously-this-feels-like-I've-been-cut-in-half hole small incision in your belly, it's not your baby*!

DON'T TALK ON YOUR CELL PHONE the entire time. Seriously, I'm all for taking a short call or whatever, but what do you think texting is for? Obviously it's to prevent you from annoying the crap outta me at the park while you use that I'm-being-cute-and-playful-in-my-mind-but-it-sounds-really-effing-whiny-to-the-rest-of-us voice to talk your husband into letting you get the nanny an extra day each week. Please know that when my kid hands your kid the sand filled condom I'm not even gonna bother to knock it outta her hands.

DON'T FORGET TO READ (between) the signs. If there is a huge sign posted that says no skateboarding, rollerblading, or rollerskating on the play structure I think it's safe to assume that means your obnoxious, loudmouthed, way-too-big-for-jungle-gym-play son should also refrain from riding his Razor up and down the bridges. And, the fact that he got caught on my foot and took a mean header immediately after he rolled over #3's fingers is so not my fault it's not even funny.

DON'T FLAUNT YOUR GOODIES. I know, it's a public place and you and your kid are allowed to enjoy whatever culinary delights you desire, but I've been eating lettuce and water all week (trying to fit into my grown up pants again) and you're killing me with the cookies. Plus, #3's new "song" is the cookie song ("I wub cookies, I wub cookies, I WUB COOOOOOOKIES!"), which gets progressively louder as it's sung repeatedly until his affection for cookies is rewarded with one. So, unless you're planning on sharing soon, you might wanna get outta here with those.

DON'T MENTION THE WORDS NANNY, SPA, OR POTTY TRAINED anywhere near us. These or sore topics and it would just be mean.

DON'T SPREAD THE SWINE. I know, I'm buying into the paranoia here, but seriously, if your kid looks like he's carrying the plague how about you just pretend he is and keep him home. And, I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. We were just at the park yesterday and #3 started coughing. The mom of the girl next to him swooped in and put a SARS mask on her kid. Okay, she didn't really, but she did get out the hand sanitizer and go to work on those fingers. I made sure #3 planted a wet one right on her hand before we left!

Feel free to print these off and share them with all of your friends and family; it takes a village and moms like me will thank you.

Speaking of thank yous (subtle, right?!)...

I need to award this week's Thursday Thank You.



It's going out to a very special someone who I'm sure will never have sex on a playground again (KIDDING!)...

Justin Timberlake!

And, I'm only doing this because I think you're awesome, and I'm all drooly over you right now, and I want to share your undeniable awesomeness with the 3 people who read this blog.

Thank you, and you're welcome!

Dear Justin,
Thank you for inviting me to your concert (you Tweeted it, that totally counts). I was so happy that your charity event corresponded with my blogging event last weekend. I really enjoyed being a part of such an important affair (you workin' the floor) and am proud to say that I donated to such a valuable charity. I had a wonderful time with you and your friends, especially at the after party. You know, when we shared our moment?! I'm sure you remember it just the way I do: I was shakin' what my mama gave me (you know, trying to catch your eye), you noticed (how could you not, I was seriously doin' my thang) and rewarded me with that sweet smile (the one that obviously was meant to say that you love me), I rewarded you with a loud scream and a ridiculous little jig (although, since I was submerged in water up to my knees, I doubt you saw that, and I'm hoping you didn't catch a glimpse of my girdle either, I'm a little concerned about whether or not my wet dress had become transparent in the water). Now that I'm back home I hope you don't mind that I continue to interact with you. I plan to Tweet you regularly, from the park, while my kid plays with a dirty condom, cigarette butt hanging from his lips, and a mangy dog humping the crap outta his leg. Hope you don't mind. XOXO, Your oldest Biggest Fan, Dumb Mom

I've decided to break this note into a series of 140 character Tweets, nothing like killing him with kindness!

And, if you want to learn more about Justin Timberlake's charity concert, feel free to check him (and me, one of my @thenagainphoto Tweets actually made it on his site!) out here: justintimberlake.com


*Adopted offspring are meant to be included in this definition as well, point is, dogs, cats, and other furry friends don't count.

#SITScation

I know, you all are dying to hear about the big trip to Vegas for SITScation.

And, you know I'm dying to spill.

But, it was a long weekend.

And, lots of stuff happened.

I didn't just party with Justin Timberlake and Timbaland (JT is H-A-U-T-E!).

I didn't just fall head over heels into my first girl crush (Ciara is so beautiful in person I'm not sure she's even human & if JT isn't "interacting" with that then he is crazy!).

I didn't just meet some of the most amazingly funny, insanely gorgeous, unbelievably smart, friendly, and sweet bloggers on the planet.

There was inspiration in the form of Ms. Sugar Jones from Sugar in the Raw. She encouraged us women to become more positive, thoughtful bloggers.

There was innovation in the form of Ms. Keep it Classy herself, Jen Hinton, queen of vlogging.

There was business knowledge provided by Ms. Alli Worthington, publisher of Blissfully Domestic.

There was a huge story of unbelievably success in the form of Renee J. Ross, creator of the hugely successful site, Cutie Booty Cakes.

And, as I mentioned before, there were superstars!

And, by superstars of course I mean me!



It was like a parenting BY dummies feeding frenzy; they all wanted to have their pictures taken with me!

And, really who am I to turn away a devoted fan (read: I'm such a blog stalking loser I insisted on having my image made with each of these people so that I can put them in my special-people-I-love-nearly-as-much-as-JT-and-Ciara book that I keep by my bed).

So, I got shots with everyone.

Alicia, from It Ain't Easy Being Cheesy and, my personal fave, BFF, aka Tub of Lard (which is so the misnomer), from Too Fatties...



Rhonda, from Days of Whine and Noses...



Kristi, from Orange Juice...



Renee, from Cutie Booty Cakes...



Kat, from Mamma's Losin' It...



Angie, from 7 Clown Circus...



Michael Jackson...




And so many others whose drunk pictures (or, more likely mine) were not appropriate for your consumption.

So, go ahead, check these ladies out if you haven't already.

They are all witty, and funny, and smart, and, obviously, beautiful blogging queens.

I'll be back to fill you in on the whole Justin-Timberlake-fell-in-love-with-me-and-is-scouring-the-country-looking-for-the-girl-who-caught-his-eye story ASAP!

Adios Muchachos!

By the time you read this I will be on my way to SITScation and the beautiful city of Las Vegas (leaving home @ about 4am!).

I'm going to see the sights (if I'm lucky that will include numerous bars and Justin Timberlake's dressing room).

I will meet some VIP people (I consider big baller bloggers to be VIPs, and, of course, Justin who is about as VIP as you can get and still be human).

I will grow as a blogger, and possibly as a human (since I'm convinced that having the chance to lay my hand on the ankle skin of Justin Timberlake as I reach up on the stage like an obsessive teenager will undoubtedly change who I am as a person).

I will get some rest (on the plane).

I will enjoy some me time (and by me I mean me and BFF since we will be traveling together, rooming together, and partying together for three straight days; and yes I will be surprised if we are still friends following this excursion).

And, I will miss my kiddies like nobody's business.

I don't think I'm the best mama on the block or anything (okay maybe on this particular block), but I'm thinking they are gonna miss me too. Not because of my winning personality or my soothing, melodic singing voice, but because of my ability to serve a meal, change a diaper, correct homework, text, answer the phone, kiss a boo-boo, rush to the potty to wipe a dirty butt, and laugh at really bad jokes simultaneously without injuring anyone (that one time I dropped the baby really shouldn't count because I was totally sabotaged by one of #2's booby traps that he strategically places throughout the house hoping to catch me off guard).

They, and more importantly, their father, are going to get a pretty clear picture of what life without mommy is going to be like, and I don't think they are gonna like it.

At least, I hope they don't.

I don't want them to have a miserable time or anything while I'm gone, I just don't want them to have a great time either.

Call me selfish, but I'm under the impression that mom is a pretty hot commodity around here and should they have an amazing mom-free weekend I'm afraid my stock is gonna plummet.

And, I really don't want to be the owner of worthless stock.

I'm just hoping they have a few moments of full blown insanity so that they recognize my value.

Is that so bad?

It's really Hubby I'm concerned about.

He will either hate my guts or love me more upon my return.

Either way I consider this a win because both emotions prove one thing: that I am awesome.

And really, that's all I'm looking for.

A little recognition.

And, if it takes me going on a four day trip to the city of sin to gamble, party, hang out with famous celebs and participate in the most awesome, inspiring, and fun GNO of all time, then you know what, so be it.

A momma's gotta do what a momma's gotta do.

And this momma's gotta shake her money maker in Vegas.

But, I can't leave without dedicating Thursday Thank You to the people who have made this whole trip possible: My dudes because without them there'd be no parenting BY dummies, there'd just be a coupla dummies, and no one would like that.

I wrote this poem for them and left it with their Daddy to be read aloud tonight before bed.

So they can have a piece of me when they are missing me the most, and because Mama Kat said to write a poem for your mama, but I figured a poem from your mama would be just as good!

Dear Dudes, I've written you a little poem to thank you for being my daily inspiration. Without you I'm not sure who I'd be.

Roses are red,
some cats are black.
Life without you,
would be pretty wack.

I'm telling the truth,
when I tell you this,
some days are sucky,
as sucky as piss.

Some days I wanna,
go jump offa roof.
I find myself wishing,
you 3 would go poof.

But, some days are awesome,
as awesome can be.
I feel like I'm dreaming!
Are these kids for me?!

It's these days that make
the suckys worth living.
It's these that inspire,
my heart to keep giving.

I've come to appreciate
even days made of piss.
They are just part and parcel
of my life, of my bliss.

So, naughty monkeys,
remember these words,
I'm still gonna love you,
when you act like turds.

I'm still gonna want you,
when you make me mad,
I'm still gonna hug you,
when you act like your dad.

My heart's been abducted,
by three boys in blue,
And, no matter my effort,
I just can't quit you.

I know it's cheesy and corny and silly and stuff (which means it's perfect for my little people), but after spending an hour crying myself to sleep last night it's the best I can do to express how much I'm gonna miss them.

Wish me luck!

Fragmented Friday

So many little things I need to say today.

And, since you care... here goes!

1. WTF?! Blockbuster? I went to Blockbuster to return a movie we'd rented for the dudes (about 3 weeks ago) and discovered that instead of being able to replace it with another, I was met with a huge non-refundable merchandise liquidation sale.

Holy bad economy, Batman! Blockbuster is going outta business!

Well, that blows.

Now where am I gonna get my favorite straight to DVD videos?

I hate waiting for stuff to come on Pay Per View and I really don't rent enough to justify $20/month to Netflix.

I was so flabbergasted by the discovery that I even had to ask the pimply-they-don't-tell-me-anything-because-I-can't-handle-the-truth check out dude what the hell.

His response, "I guess they just wanted to retire."

Um, yeah, bro, because a company that's been making bank for the past twenty-some-odd years is just gonna up and decide to "retire" one day.

Doubt it.

I'm thinking it has more to do with this, than the fact that Mr. Blockbuster was getting up in age and wanted to spend his time waiting for his home health nurse to come over and change his man diaper fishing and golfing instead of running a multimillion dollar enterprise.

2. The first entry into my soon to be famous Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Photo Contest has already been submitted by Angie @ Seven Clown Circus.



So, people, the bar has been set, what are you gonna do about it?

Lucky for you there are still 30 days to submit your entries, but you'd better get on it because I'm thinking it's gonna take you a couple of tries before you get a shot cuter than this one.

3. I've been thinking a lot about my upcoming trip to Vegas for SITScation.

Yeah, I'm excited and happy and looking forward to going. But, really, more than anything, the social anxiety that plagues my daily interactions with cooler than me people is starting to set in.

I'm going back and forth about what I'll wear (no momiform for this one; I'm going all out).

I'm in knots about losing five pounds before the trip (so I can nicely fit into the new MILCAD* dress I just bought).

And, I've been desperately concerned about my hair.

Here's the deal with my hair.

I haven't had my hair professionally cared for since #2 was in utero.

He's 4.

Four years since I've had my hair looked at by a pro and it's more than obvious.

I sport about 4 inches of split ends, homemade highlights, and a drabby off black overall color that is oddly reminiscent of an old billy goat.



Not to mention, the general wildness of it (combined with my debilitating lack of motivation to get up early enough to actually fool with it) causes me to keep it in a bun, a braid, or a banana clip (kidding, I haven't worn a banana clip since like 2008, give me a little bit of credit**).

Needless to say it was time for a change.

So, I got a sitter (aka Mimi) and a coupla Benjamins, and headed into the local make-me-purty spot.

And, after a little of this...



Voila...



I know, I shoulda waited for Vegas to do the big reveal, but I figure this way, people can look it over, absorb the shock of it all, talk about it with their friends, and not be quite so surprised when we meet.

'Cause, I'm gonna be nervous enough without the whole first impression monkey on my back. And, when I get nervous I sweat. And when I sweat because I'm nervous, it makes me even more nervous because, neurotic though it may be, it makes me nervous to think that people notice I'm sweating because I'm nervous. See, now I'm getting nervous!

Anyway, point is, I'm already nervous enough about my clothes, and my voice (it annoys me), and my fat, and my inability to stop smiling (and sweating) when I'm nervous even if it's inappropriate and lame (ie you tell me your cat was crushed by a bus, I smile. Or, you tell me my skirt is tucked so very attractively into the back of my undies, I smile, and then run to the bathroom to drown myself in the toilet) .

So, if you see a sweaty mess of a girl, smiling ear to ear as she tries to disguise her voice with one of those T.Pain vocoder dealys, while rockin' some pretty dope highlights, that will be me.

I gotta be honest about the hair, though, after the cash I put out for this one, I was expecting a little bit more (maybe a little more on the Halle Berry and a little less on the Star Jones).

But, I can't blame the technician, she can only do so much, and based on what she was given to work with, I'd say it's a great improvement.

Now, if I could just figure out how to get Halle Berry's body by the time SITScation rolls around, that would be great.

Anyone know what the recovery time is for lipo, I've got about two weeks to spare!

4. Today is the last day to enter the Looney Tunes gift basket contest. The winner will be announced tomorrow on Saturday Swag-urday. If you still haven't entered (because you are CA-RAZY) click here to get in while you still can.

5. Monday is Ask Me Monday. So... if you have a burning question, like why do you bother writing this bloody thing?, or who do you think you are?, feel free to leave them as comments and I'll get to them on Monday!

*The closest I can get to being a MILF(seriously, if you don't know what this is, just Google it and don't do it at work b/c the results may get you fired) is to hope to be a MILCAD (Mom I'd Like to Chaperon A Dance).

**I feel like I have to inform you that I really am kidding. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about me, you know, like that I'm some overweight, feathered hair, spandex wearing, mom with the fashion sense of a motel desk clerk. I'm really not that fat and I've never even worked at a motel!

What Not to Wear

I am quite possibly the most eligible candidate for What Not To Wear (you know, that TLC show with those two mildly insulting, fashion guru's that tell dumpy looking moms and hairy old dudes how to revamp their style).



I am the owner of a large amount of "mom clothes".

Sports bras (although the only sport I actively participate in is channel surfing).

Yoga pants (I'm about as Namaste as a Rattlesnake at a church in Southern Appalachia).

Running shoes (visibly worn, not from time hitting the pavement, but from time hitting the playground with a latte and those little donut hole Munchkin thingys from Dunkin' Donuts).

Even my dress up clothes are mommed down.

If it has buttons, is shiny, or shows skin (technically, that would include capri pants) I consider myself dressed up.

Sad? Maybe.

True? Definitely.

As many of you know, this October I will be attending SITScation in Las Vegas, Nevada.

My itenerary is packed (this celebrity life is taxing, let me tell you).

I will be rubbing elbows with some of the most influential (and attractive, I might add) bloggers on the planet.

I will be getting up close and personal with JT, aka Justin Timberlake (our seats may be in the upper levels, but that won't stop me from crashing the after party or bum rushing the stage; so what if I get tackled by bodyguards, that's why I have health insurance).

I'll be meeting up with friends from college who are all driving out from LA to see me.

And, enterprising individual that I am, I will be attempting to earn back some of the cash this whole adventure is costing me by partaking in some of Vegas's money making opportunities.

All these "ventures" require me to shed my momiform (mom-uniform) in favor of more attractive attire.

If I'm meeting serious hotties...



I wanna be more Mel B.



and less ug-ly.

So, I'm participating in a little contest, with the peeps presenting the Shop Smart Look Fab mall event, TLC's What Not to Wear, and Twitter Moms.

A contest that requires me to identify my top 5 must haves in fall fashion.

Should be easy enough.

It's not that I don't know about fashion and trends.

I mean, the dudes are the pinnacle of kid couture.

And, BFF ordered me Glamour (subtle hint, right?!) to keep me abreast of the current lady looks.

So, it's not that I don't know, it's just that generally, I'm too lazy to care.

Not anymore.

Gotta get G'd up for my Vegas debut.

Here are the fall trends I'd like to pack for my big trip.

1. An over the knee pair of boots. Goodbye square toes. Hello, haute-y! These should definitely come in handy in Vegas. They say Pretty Woman don't they?



2. Something hot. And pink. In a house full of dudes I've been despeerately awaiting the return of hot pink.

This would be perfect (for someone young and cute and thin and rich; someone who is NOT me)...



But, what about this from Old Navy? Bold, inexpensive, fun, possibly okay even if you're a lumpy tummy?



3. Accordion tops. The detail tends to attract the eye away from the scary bits. Here's one that's a little on the sexy side, which is exactly the look I'm going for on my date with JT.



4. Skinny jeans. Personally, for a girl my size, I find the term skinny jeans to be a comical oxymoron. Doesn't the fact that they are sized in the double digits prevent them from being termed skinny? Apparently not, cause they are making these things for all shapes and sizes and I've located the perfect pair to go with my fancy top and my over the knee boots (if all else fails, though I can just go for leggings, they're still okay this fall, too). Ooooh, and the zipper is an added bonus!



5. A hot handbag. You all know I'm obsessed with handbags. And, of course I'll need somewhere to stash all the cash I'm going to win in Vegas. I'm a huge Kenneth Cole fan and they have plenty to fit the bill, like this one, and it's on sale!



And, this week's Thursday Thank You goes to an extremely deserving party, Hubby!

However, since he lacks an appreciation for sophisticated handmade, personalized, or high fashion stationary he received his thank you just moments ago via text. The most effective method, certainly, as it is the only mode of communication he responds to consistently.

Thank you and you're welcome.

Text Reads: Dear Hubby, Thank you so much for making me a mommy, it may not always seem like it, but I really, truly, am grateful for being able to call myself your wife and their mommy. Unfortunately, as a side effect of this glorious role, I have realized that I've not a trendy bone left in my body. I rely entirely on others (Glamour Magazine, BFF, celebrities I pretend to be) to guide my style. And although it rarely shows, I do aspire to be a MILCAD (mom I'd like to chaperone a dance) and I can't do it alone. Since you have repeatedly reminded me when I'm wearing a "mom shirt" (even when it is brand new from H&M), I am designating you as my personal mom-be-gone makeover account. You put money in, I take it out when I need to buy an unmommy shirt, or pants, or boots, or handbag. Ooohh, handbags! No questions asked. Thanks, XOXO Dumb Mom

Disclaimer: All photos were used w/o the expres written permission of the blogger's (Angie, from 7 Clown Circus, Kathy, from Mama's s Losin' It, and Heather & Tiffany from SITS) permission. Please visit their blogs and urge them not to open up a can of whoop a** on me when we meet in Vegas. Wouldn't want to spoil my purdy new gear!

And, this post was also partly inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, feel free to join it 'cause it's fun!

Wordful (Ooo! Ooo! Pick me!) Wednesday

So, I'm not the only one who does super-cool-totally-awesome-blow-you-away giveaways like this one!

Actually, tons of bloggers offer way better stuff than what I'm able to rummage around for.

Like the SITS chicks (please tell me you know of the most awesome blog site on the PA-Lanet!).

They are the ones hosting the blog conference this October in Las Vegas that I am begging, borrowing, and stealing from everyone I know to attend.

You know, the one I'm planning on selling my self out for at the Bunny Ranch (or some way less well known, way more seedy establishment if need be)?

Yeah, that's the one.

I'm going with BFF to it and I'm so effing excited I could do a toe touch (not the jump in the air kind because that is physiologically impossible, I'm talkin' the bend over and touch 'em kind, which for me is BIG!).

Anyway.

They partnered up with Whrrl.com to do this awesome giveaway that would allow some extra-special-totally-deserving-eager-to-avoid-doing-hard-time-for-prostitution blogger like myself a FREE RIDE to SITScation!

And, all I had to do is make up a super cool story that people would enjoy reading (easy, right?) and post it on their site.

See...

Powered by Whrrl

Cool, right?

And, now I'm entered and I'm keeping all ten of my fingers crossed like constantly and I will probably have arthritis so badly by the time I get there that none of the other super cool bloggers I'm going there to stalk meet will even want to talk to me.

But, even if my wicked witch hands get me ostracized by the cool people, at least I'll have my first overnight trip away from the rat pack over here and I won't even have to rent myself out to some creepy-Roscoe-P.-Coltrane-donkey-booty-car-salesman to do it.

So. Worth. It.