Thirty Days Has September...

...April, May and thank goodness November!!

I have to say I love the challenge of NaBloPoMo. What I need to admit is that it completely drains me of any worthwhile posts.

I've been exhausted this month. Each night, I've waited until after 10:30 p.m. to even begin writing. It's no wonder you've had to put up with the schlock I've been shoveling out.

So enough, I say. Enough!

I'm a political consultant. That's what I do in real life.

Today I attended a conference about "innovative advocacy." A panel of Congressional staffers spoke about the types of contacts that gain their attention. They discussed faxes and emails phone calls and personal meetings. They described the overwhelming amount of information they must process on a daily basis in an attempt to stay on top of the issues they cover. An audience member asked them if they read blogs. Across the board, each one of the staffers said no they didn't have time. Bloggers, they said, were just rogue folks spewing out whatever their whimsy. They also said they discouraged their bosses from reading blogs.

I was a bit put off.

But then the next panel came on.

This panel was comprised of grassroots practioners who were there to present case studies of some of the more innovative grassroots programs they had seen. Obviously these two panels hadn't talked. The very first presenter is now involved in internet advocacy BECAUSE of a post he wrote for DailyKos that eventually led to the Congressional Committees Project. Each of the panelists discussed blogs in one manner or another, especially underscoring the value of advertising on blogs and how economical it is.

Now I realize the first panel was talking about the grassroots efforts that got their attention and there is no reason to believe that they are out searching the blogs to see what folks are saying, but they seemed to discount them so thoroughly. But I've witnessed the viral nature of blogs. As someone who has worked for an advocacy organization, I'm constantly amazed by how quickly bloggers can get information out and gin up support for issues in a matter of days.

I was mad that bloggers didn't seem to have the respect of folks who are essentially in charge of making the laws of our land. But I didn't get too angry because I know something they don't. And they have no idea how wrong they are to ignore such a source of power.

Mawiage

I want to run away from home. RIGHT NOW!

Everyone in my house is deaf. That might be because none of them has stopped whining long enough to give their eardrums an opportunity to stop reverberating in their own heads.

There are three TVs on at the same time and husband is being pissy because I didn't get the right frickin sour cream.

Yes. Sour cream.

He NEEDS the fat-free kind. So badly apparently that he just left for the grocery store even though I just returned from there.

Pray for him that he doesn't run out of gas or break down between here and there, because it's fairly unlikely that I'd go get him--at least right away.

It Might Be Worth a Try

Ever faithful to my beloved NPR, I've been listening to stories about the peace talks that took place in Annapolis, MD this week.

One caller to the Diane Rehm show referred to all of the participants as "lame duckers." I had quite a chuckle over that in my car all by myself.

Last night as I was driving home, journalists were discussing the meetings, the participants and whether any of them were really in the position to do any real negotiating. I believe one of them may have wondered aloud if the conflicts could be better resolved by children--or I could have wondered it while I was on auto-pilot on my way home after a day of staring at numbers, though I doubt I would have such a great idea on my own. Anyway, it got me thinking.

Our kids are taught about peer mediation and conflict resolution in school starting very early. I really am sure SOMEONE must have thought of this already, but wouldn't it be interesting to give a group of sixth graders who had been trained in peer mediation a case study resembling some of the more difficult world conflicts and see how they would resolve them?

Would it be that outlandish to suggest we put the conflict resolution responsibilities of the world in the hands of our children? Without years of ingrained hatred, might they be able to find solutions that will bring more peace to the world?

Maybe it's the time of the year. I have peace on the brain. I want my children to live in a safer world. My inner-idealist is oozing out.

Maybe all the kids would refuse to agree and stomp out of the room with all the snacks or even resort to beating each other up. But would that really be any different than what their parents' are doing already?

Why Didn't You Tell Me?

Or maybe I missed it.

I just lost one hour and forty minutes of my life that I can never get back.

I just watched Knocked Up.

Sure there were some funny lines, but really?

Katherine Heigl and that curly-haired dude had NO chemistry. And the woman who played the sister? Oh and Paul Rudd. Paul Rudd. What happened? Did Hollywood run out of cute boyfriend roles for you? You're stuck playing the dopey husband now?

I know I'm late to the party with this review, but give me a break. I don't get out to the movies much right now. And thank the goddess of discount boutique shoes, because holychristonacracker this movie would have been a GIANT waste of my money.

The great part about all of it though? My husband sat and wasted his whole evening with me watching it. And we ordered in dinner. It was a veritable date night on a Tuesday.

And last night I was compelled to sweep the floor before I went to bed.

Yep, the devil's shopping for a parka.

I Thought She Had the Answers

I came across a headline this evening that caught my eye. I was visiting Penelope Trunk's blog via a link from Veronique about linking when I saw this (see how I followed her advice?).

Stop Worrying that Your Twentysomething is Lost

I thought, "Hmmm, I need to check this out. What's HER secret to not missing the possibilities that were my twenties."

And then I read the first words.

Here's an open letter to all the parents...

Oh she said "twentysomething IS lost" not twentysomething's ARE lost."

Harumph.

Then I tipped back the sleeve of crackers I was noshing on as I read wanting to get the last few morsels in the bottom and I proceeded to miss my mouth and dump the crumbs all over myself.

Most people would be glad they had done that in the privacy of their own home without so much as their spouse to witness it. Me? I'm a blogger. I use evidence of my own flakiness and inelegance to make the world feel better about itself--one reader at a time.

Thank Heaven for Little Memes

I've been pretty bad about responding to tags recently. It's not that I'm not humbled to be thought of--trust me I love it thank you--I've just been off the meme thing recently.

Pulling into the homestretch of NaBloPoMo during this holiday weekend has me digging deep to put words on a page, so I'm leaning on the support.

First a thanks to my NY friend ~JJ! for the Me and Mine Meme.

Here's the deets:

Me and Mine Meme 100 Directions:
1.) State the name of your blog, your real name or your online name, and link to your "about me" page.
2.) Say you want to be profiled on BlogHer as a family blogger and link back to this Me and Mine 100 original post, http://www.blogher.org/mommy-and-family-bloggers-promote-yourselves-me-and-mine-meme-100.
3.) Tell how long you've been blogging.
4.) Pass this meme on to three other bloggers that you think should be profiled/interviewed, and ask them to do the meme. (Kindly link to the bloggers you select.)

1. You're here at Mamma Loves... I'm Amie and if you look to left of the page you can read all about me--or just head on back through the archives.

2. I'd love to be profiled on BlogHer as a family blogger.

3. I've been blogging for about a year and a half.

4. I'm passing this along to Arkie Mama, Andi from Poot and Cubby and Slackermommy.

Now I haven't done this in a while, so when Cristie at Krinkle's Place asked, I thought what the heck.

Seven Things About Me

1. I like to tell myself I'm prematurely grey, though at age 37 I'm not so sure it's that premature anymore.

2. I love taking photographs. I'm REALLY hoping for a digital SLR camera for Christmas. It's that or the umpires are going to get pretty annoyed with me next season when I block the base path trying to take close-ups of my ballplayers.

3. My mom's only sister--my aunt--died of liver cancer seven years ago. I still miss her every day. She was so much a part of my life.

4. I have an innie.

5. When I first get into bed at night I arrange myself with the pillow doubled up under my neck and the blanket pulled up to my chin. I can't fall asleep this way though. I always turn over on my stomach to actually drift off, yet I never lay down this way first.

6. If I wake up at night from a bad dream or I can't sleep because I'm worried about something I make sure some part of my body is touching my husband. It calms me down immediately.

7. I have vivid dreams. They are realistic. They are in color. And I almost always remember them. I think I need to cut back on the Diet Coke.

Seven Bloggers tagged using the NaBloPoMo Randomizer and MommyBlogger Group

1. Oh, Nothing
2. Canned Laughter
3. VDog and Little Man
4. Mom's the Word
5. Chik Austin (I love her shoes!)
6. Mama(e) in Translation
7. Reality Testing

Go forth folks and tell us about yourselves.

Live Blogging Beers

Get three baseball families together, a little beer and we're all switchin'.

Sounds exciting, huh? Didn't know that about me did you?

Just switching the husband we regularly haze.

We really are all here because another friend is supposed to come over with her new hot Austrailian boyfriend. All us wives are tired of looking at the same ole guys. We needed some eye candy dammit, and they're not here.

Oooh wait! Another family is here. Make that four baseball families.

We live the crazy suburban life. Jealous??

The guys are all talking baseball. Yes the fall season ended in October and they're still talking about it all. I'm pretty sure all the dads are involved just so they can hang out with all their buddies.

Eight kids down in the family room, eight adults in the kitchen. As long as there's alcohol we're good.

Wait!

Hot Australian guy is here. Gotta go.

A Bit of Business

I've owed you all some additional blogs that I've been visiting. This list, combined with the ones I provided here, here , here, here and here, is definitely not comprehensive. I find new sites every week. It's amazing how many terrific people are out there.

Marie Millard Yes, it's confusing when a woman named Nancy writes a blog by the name of Marie, but who am I to question? I'm a big fan of mammas with experience they're willing to share. She's a warm and funny woman, and I'm so happy we travel in the same circles.

CharmingBitch How can you not love that name? I found Shannon through Plain Jane Mom and I'm always touched by her honest writing. It inspires me.

Deep Muck Big Rake The first time I met Becky (okay the only time we've seen each other in real life) she had presents for my boys--and we didn't even know each other! She's smart. She's beautiful. And, she's the mom of twins plus one!

Miss Priss Another Becky and she's a new mom--like she had the baby yesterday (or Wednesday) new mom. Congratulations Becky!! I met Becky through Kris at BlogHer and we haunt Twitter together. She also writes professionally about cars on another site, which I can't get my hands on right this minute, but isn't that cool?

Can We Kick the Bar Here? Another BlogHer babe. And another beauty. Seriously, I'm starting to reflect and think maybe meeting all these gorgeous, smart women is not good for the ego. Honestly though this is another honest and warm blogger I hope you'll visit.

DC Metro Moms (and the related Silicon Valley Moms, Chicago Moms and NYC Moms Blogs) I was asked to be a contributor to DC Metro Moms after BlogHer and it was really an honor to be asked. These are all group blogs and they provide a broad perspective of voices capturing snippets of parenthood.

Phew!

I know I've left off some terrific bloggers. Please leave a comment and tell me which blogs are part of your daily reading? I'm always up for great writing.

For You

I am grateful for so many things today--and everyday even if it seems like I forget.

Things great and small.

It is so easy to lose sight of the many blessings we have, and I love the fact that we take at least one day each year to ensure we don't.

The community of incredible people I've come to know through blogging was most unexpected when I started throwing my words to the wind a little more than a year ago. I am tremendously grateful for the friendships both online and in real life it has brought me.

I hope each of you has a wonderful Thanksgiving. Please know you are in my thoughts today.

Leftovers Are Important

Three years ago I had an eight year-old and a two year-old, and a nine month-old who I was nursing. I had been back at work for six months at a job I really hated and my husband's family decided that we would be celebrating Thanksgiving at his sister's house--and frying the turkey!

I panicked.

Dinner at his sister's? Fried turkey? How would I get my fill of my mother's stuffing? What if they served cornbread dressing?!

And what about leftovers?!

I just knew my Thanksgiving was going to be a bust, but we were tied into the plans. So, I did what any other stressed-out, hormonal, sleep deprived woman would do. I went to the grocery store at 8:00 p.m. on the night before Thanksgiving and bought all of the makings for a Thanksgiving dinner.

Dammit! I was going to have leftovers.

Somehow I managed to find a fresh turkey, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, Pepperidge Farms dressing mix (just like mom's) and the ingredients for both apple and pumpkin pie.

As soon as I got home, I pulled out the giblets and boiled them up to ready them for the stuffing. I chopped them and mixed them in with the breadcrumbs and seasoning and stuffed that turkey. Warmed up the oven and shoved the whole mess in.

Then it was upstairs to nurse the little guy. As typically happened with the late evening feeding, I fell sound asleep next to the baby.

At 2:30 a.m. I woke up to the most delicious smell. And then I panicked! How long had the turkey been in the oven. Way longer than it was supposed to be. I was sure I was going to have a dried out bird.

I raced downstairs to find my turkey monitor sound asleep on the couch. Harumph! I sent him up to bed and peeked into the oven. Unbelievably, the turkey was perfect! So I set about peeling and boiling white and sweet potatoes. Mashing and stirring and seasoning to perfection. I cut shortening into flour for pie crusts and peeled apples and mixed pumpkin mush into pie filling. Sweet potato casserole and mashed potatoes complete, pies baking and filling the house with even better smells and it was only 4:00 a.m.

So I started cleaning up after myself.

Stored the "leftovers" in the fridge, washed up the dishes and went to wipe down the counters. That's when I noticed the gunk around the edge of the sink. So I scrubbed and I pulled out an old toothbrush and I scrubbed some more. And then I worked on the faucet and the backsplash and then OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THE STOVE! The burners were filthy. I dug under the sink for the SOS pad and got to work. Fantastik and 409. SOS and a toothbrush.

Oh how that kitchen shined!

Pies were done, and I noticed I was getting a little tired. It was 6:00 a.m. Thanksgiving morning. We didn't have to be at my sister-in-laws until the afternoon, so I thought I might put my head down for a few minutes.

When I woke three hours later, I came downstairs to find a husband staring at me in disbelief.

And all I could say was, "I needed to have my mother's stuffing."

Turns out, it's my mother-in-law's stuffing too.

So I'll Remember the Answer Later

In a few years, when eldest son is looking through his "School Days" book and asks why it smells the answer is "I don't know" NOT that his littlest brother peed all over it when left for three minutes without a pull-up.

What? He said he "tried his hardest" to pee ten minutes earlier.

Oh yeah, and for all you worrying potty-training parents out there, he'll be four in a few months.

You Wouldn't Believe the Workout

I believe the original purpose of NaBloPoMo is to get writers to exercise their writing muscles. If this is the case, I think my posts may be the blogging equivalent of watching the Buns of Steel video while laying on the couch and calling it a workout.

Come on dear readers. I need a little help. Leave me a question, a writing prompt, loose change, whatever you can spare in the comments. I still have almost two weeks left.

When You Got Nothing, Talk to the Kid

I'm laying with Mr. 5 tonight trying to get him to fall asleep. We're chatting about our day, and so goes the conversation.

Me: What one thing do you think you're going to ask Santa for Christmas?
Mr. 5: I don't know. Maybe a car. You know a big one.
Me: The kind with a remote or one you push with your hands?
Mr. 5: The kind that goes on it's own. You know.
Me: ??
Mr. 5: Like the kind our friend has, that you can ride in.
Me: Oh does she drive it?
Mr. 5: Not anymore it broke.
Me: We don't have room for one of those.

Changing the subject...

Me: You know there are some kids who don't get gifts from their parents on Christmas?
Mr. 5: Why?
Me: Their parents don't have money to buy them.
Mr. 5: holds up his hands and begins spreading some of his fingers apart
Me: I was thinking we might buy some presents for those kids, you know so they can have presents too on Christmas.
Mr. 5: nodding to his hands Do these look like chameleon hands to you?
Me: Were you even listening to me? I'm trying to talk to you about something.
Mr. 5: Yeah, yeah. Kids don't get Christmas presents.
Me: Yes. I think we should buy presents for them.
Mr. 5: I heard you, but now it's time for me to talk. Don't you think these look like chameleon hands?

Trying another approach...

Me: What do you think we should get Daddy for Christmas?
Mr. 5: I don't know.
Me: What do you think he'd like?
Mr. 5: Something boring. You guys always get boring presents.
Mr. 5: Can you make chameleon hands?

I tried...

On Your Day Off

Two days off a week. I know I'm lucky to have two.

Hours of cleaning the house, and you'd barely know by the looks of it.

THIS is how I want to spend my days off??!

I'm not good at this cleaning thing. I'm not!

But you should see my dish cloth drawer!!! Very organized now.

Blogger Night Out

Out with some of the DC bloggers tonight. Blogging from the bar, because god forbid I miss a day of NaBloPoMo this far into it. Kris just got me a red-headed slut shot. Devra's here along with Kim and Gunfighter. Links to come later when I'm on a screen bigger than a post-it.

Woot woot. Pretty good for my first mobile blogging foray. You all are going to be so sorry Kim taught me how to do this.

NaBloPoMo--I'm Showing Cracks

I got nothing. And with nothing I should probably just stop right here, but I don't think I will. I will warn you here that I'm in a pissy-ass (is that hyphenated?) mood, and EVERYTHING is annoying the crap out of me right now.

Like what you ask?

Well!

Mamma DOES NOT Love...

Public speakers who mispronounce words that they must use regularly. Example: Woman conducting my weekend birthing class who kept saying "cervEx." Seriously, the baby hadn't crossed mine yet, but I was pretty sure it was a fucking "i" in the word, hon.

Freakin' reality shows. This is no dis to the Dancing with Stars, American Idol, Project Runway folks. But I CANNOT understand who these women are who will go pimp themselves out to some "bachelor" of negligible pedigree. Are you that desperate for attention? Honestly, you're obviously beautiful. Do you really want to get married to some guy who had to resort to a television show to meet someone? Listen girl. That kind of guy is going to take longer than you to get ready in the morning.

Skinny women who complain that they're too small to wear XS in a particular brand of clothing. There is nothing more that needs to be said about that. YES, I am the bitter fat girl!

Oh and those of you with perfect marriages and perfect children that are always well-behaved and always clean and who clean your house for you while you sleep in on Saturday morning. Yeah, you piss me off too.

People with a basement. Okay, I'm getting carried away here, but I have shit everywhere in my house and I could really use a basement to store some of it.

I'm stopping now, because next on my list will probably be three-legged cats and girls named Tifini with an "i." And there is no reason to take my bad mood out on little fluffy things.

The First Step Is...

Lotta and I have had a little encounter group going on. The first step is admitting your problems, right? Well we came clean with one another, so of course, because we're bloggers, a button was developed to commemorate the event.

I have been bad at leaving comments lately. I've been addicted to Stumble Upon and I've been reading your blogs in my reader, but I know I need to be better. I love the community that I can be part of as a blogger and to be part of the community I need to give back.

Please know that if you haven't heard from me in a while it's not because I don't love what you're writing. Sometimes life just gets in the way.

I'm looking forward to the Thanksgiving break to get caught up. Don't be surprised if you start seeing comments from me on posts you wrote weeks ago.

Oh, feel free to steal the button too. The first step is admitting your problem.

Did You Ever Notice?

Smart female characters can start on a show with the focus not necessarily on their looks...

But then, all of the sudden, the make-up artists are brought in, the stylists, the trainers, the hair dressers, you name it.

I've starred in the Suburban Mom Show for a number of seasons now. Where's my entourage??

Move Along

There's nothing here to see today. I'm terribly sorry.

I feel like crap. I'm in a super pissy mood. I just want to curl up in a ball and stare at the television, but I have some work to do.

Send virtual chicken soup.

You Never Know What You Want Until You Have It

All these years later, I can't hear Frank Sinatra without thinking of him. We dated for most of our time in college. He was young and beautiful and we loved each other madly. We shared a goofy sense of humor and many wonderful times. Honestly, today, there are no regrets, but that wasn't the case for years.

He was from a privileged family. His parents were still married, there was a family business and trust fund. In my early twenties, that all added up to far too much "tradition" for me. I loved him terribly, but my future seemed so proscribed if I stayed with him. In my immaturity, my response was to assert my feminist "philosophies" and my disdain for small town (Louisville, KY) living. Surprisingly, the relationship fell apart.

This afternoon the boys and I attended a Brunswick Stew party. It's an annual event put on by a family friend that entails the all-day process of cooking the stew over an outside fire pit. In the crisp fall air, the fire and the stew smell amazing. We all stand around the fire and enjoy the company and a few beers. The kids run around in the woods, play on the playground in the park behind the house and the dogs nose legs hoping for a scrap or two. There are people we see that we only see once a year at this party and we all greet each other with hugs and big smiles.

As I walked out of the party tonight with my three boys and my husband and loaded into the car, I thought about what a nice day we had and how much I love traditions.

Remember When TVs Had One Power Switch and Two Dials?

Yeah, so I got to drool over a giant Daniel Craig last night, so I was feeling good about the new TV "system."

This afternoon, a friend was over watching the FSU/VT game with the hubs and after one look at the screen I determined that I've been ruined. "Why does that picture look all fuzzy and washed out?" I asked. "Cause it's only being shown on regular network TV" they replied. A silence fell over the room.

Will I ever view TV the same way?? Tonight it didn't look like it.

Still high from my Casino Royale experience last night, I hopped on over to Blockbuster this evening (yes I'm still living in the dark ages and haven't subscribed to Netflix yet) on a quest to begin making up for lost time on the movie front. I sauntered in the house with Little Miss Sunshine, The Good Shepard and the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie (told you I haven't seen a movie in ages) and some yummy greek food only to find strung out husband furiously punching buttons on the new remote and no picture on my precious new hunk viewing machine.

It was clear from the tilt of his baseball hat and the hair sticking straight out from the sides of his head that he had been working on this problem for some time. The edge in his voice when I inquired about the black screen told me he was once again ready to issue an edict that no one under the age of 37 was allowed to touch anything related to this new system. That's right, the TV connected to the PS3 in the family room where the boys play. Nope he doesn't want them to touch it.

Buttons continue to be pressed, the doors to the components cabinet (the only thing I picked out--cause it's furniture ya know) are opened, components are inspected and then he begins to follow the wires up from the back of the TV into the ceiling--still muttering under his breath almost as a mantra that no one (read children) should be touching "things."

I'd like to pause here to mention that NONE of my children are tall enough to reach the back of the television.

So I'm standing at the edge of the room watching husband become more maniacal with every minute that he can't solve the problem. Hotties like Johnny Depp and Matt Damon are in little boxes in my hand waiting to be drooled over, and from the couch comes this little voice as one more time I ask what happened. "I think the ghost did it." "I think the monster broke the TV."

I began to think that I would have to go back to watching my boyfriends on my little computer screen, and if we ever were able to fix the TV that I'd have to get up every time a child wanted to watch a show or play a game. And that's when I thought, is it better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all?

Weak in the Knees

Before parenthood, I was a regular movie-goer. I can still remember the layout of the movie theater where my mom used to take me to see all of the super groovy 1970's Disney releases like Escape to Witch Mountain and The Shaggy D.A.--and we haven't lived in that state since 1984. All of the sudden I have three kids, and I'm not the best at remembering to hire a babysitter, so my watching a movie on the big screen has been rare for the past five or six years.

Last week, we had a new 52" flat-screen (LCD? plasma? I admit to being a girl in that I forget which one we went with) installed at home. Surround sound. PS3 with the Blu-Ray player. Some sub-woofers and receivers and forty two remotes. I don't know. It seemed like a good idea, but it became quickly apparent that I would never watch anything on this thing as I live with four males.

But tonight? Tonight I insisted that we try out the Blu-Ray. I picked up a copy of the new Casino Royale this week and I wanted to see what it would be like. You know. Bond. Blu-Ray. It was a good choice, no?

Holy Mother of Deep Discount Designer Shoes!!!

Daniel Craig?! Those eyes?! That body?! On a giant screen! In my house! On disc I own! To salivate over whenever I want.

I feel faint.

I'd like to take a moment to personally thank my children from preventing me from seeing my beloved movies for so long, because now I have tons of options to choose from on Netflix and the perfect home theater to watch them on--though I think for a while I'll just keep turning on Daniel (heh. Don't I wish?!).

Mamma Loves to Be in the Know

I know I just got done telling you all that I'd be putting review type posts over on Maybe Mamma Loves, but it's 11:28 p.m. and still too early in NaBloPoMo for me to drop out, so I hope you'll humor me.

Jenny at AbBan (cute huh? I just made that up) has started a monthly feature where bloggers share their best beauty tips. Feel free to join in the fun.

If you've been reading along with the folks at home for any length of time, you know I have a bit of a girl crush on my esthetician (aka the best eyebrow waxer EVER!!). If I weren't adopted and had some information about my ethnic background, I would, at this very moment, be cursing whatever heritage is responsible for my ridiculously hairy eyebrows. Minor segue: Why is my body hair so dark when the hair on top of my head insists on turning silver?

You see the thing about those caterpillar-like brows is that I did, as a consolation prize, win some fairly dark, long eyelashes (hey even the losers get lucky some time--name the artist). Since I do have these eyelashes, I like to play them up (ooh, there's a good tip: Play up your best feature.) .

More than a decade ago, I discovered lash primer. The beauty of lash primer is that it provides your lashes with extra thickness and length and separates them leaving the mascara to provide the color. It really does make a difference.

I used to use the Estee Lauder brand as it was the only company that seemed to sell it at the time. It came in its own little tube and you'd apply it before your mascara. The problem with the Estee Lauder brand was that it was more expensive and you had to carry around an extra tube.

Then Maybelline discovered this secret that all make-up artists already knew and came up with a terrific two-in-one tube that included both and at a far lower price. Let's just say I've been hooked.

Try it on. Let me know what you think. I'm a big fan.

Share your tips & tricks! Write your own Hot Mamas Know post on your blog, and then go on over to Jenny's blog and add a link to it using her Mr. Linky. (get code for the graphic and more details on entering this event here)

I can't wait to see what everyone shares.

Name Schmame

When I got married I was still the young, idealistic mamma who thought she was going to save the world. I was working for a reproductive rights advocacy organization and therefore with a number of women who were shocked by my decision to take my husband's last name upon marriage. I explained that changing my name wasn't a big hang-up for me.

My husband never assumed I'd take his name. I don't know that we ever discussed it really. Maybe because I didn't feel pressured I was happy to do it. I knew it meant something to his older relatives and frankly, I just didn't care. Our last name is a good strong name. It's pretty common and it put me right up at the beginning of the alphabet, which makes it easy to find my nametag at big conferences.

After our wedding, I changed my name on all my credit cards (in all honesty Shakey took care of that as I'm not really the best with those kinds of details), my business cards, my insurance cards and my driver's license. I never really got around to changing it on my Social Security card, because really who has time to wait at the Social Security office?? The IRS didn't seem to mind. The forms had this great little check box for people like me who filed under a different name than their Social Security card. Obviously the DMV didn't care as they were happy to issue my license and even retake my photo to ensure the best shot on that little card (oh how I miss that old license).

Years go by. I've completely adapted to my new last name. I got over the momentary hesitation that takes place when having to interrupt your signature with a new set of letters half way through. We bought a house. We had children. And, oh yeah, September 11 occurred.

Meanwhile, my license expired.

So I haul myself down to the DMV with a toddler and infant in tow and all the appropriate documents. I take a number, fill out some forms and wait for my number to be called. Hand the papers to the woman, I'm shuttled to another line and wait for my turn in front of the camera. Photo taken, move to another line to await my new license. Toddler running circles around me, infant getting ansty in his stroller and I continue to wait. Finally, I'm called up to a special desk where I am informed that I cannot renew my license because the name on my license is different than the one on my Social Security card. *#&$)(@@*! Patriot Act!

Now I was a big talker up above, "I didn't care about my last name" blah, blah, blah. I was irate!! Everything was just fine as it was. I was using my married name in day to day life, but at the heart of it I was still the old mamma because my one last official document had my pre-married name. I didn't want to change, but those beasts at the DMV (sorry any precious DMV working readers) are a tough bunch and they weren't going to budge. Poor mamma was not going to get a new driver's license that day.

Stubborn woman that I am, I stormed out of the office vowing not to give in. But then there was that whole driving on an expired license thing that no matter of my brother-in-law being a police officer was going to help. A few days later, I admitted defeat and resigned myself to an afternoon of waiting in the Social Security office.

Yada, yada, yada, I find an afternoon to leave work early, spend three hours waiting to have my number called and finally get my turn at the desk. Having accepted the fact that I am going to have to change my last name on my SS card, I proudly hand my marriage license over to the woman behind the counter. She takes one look at it and says, "I'm sorry. We can't accept this."

Wha?? Huh?? I didn't get married in Cuba or China or even Las Vegas. I have an official document from the state of Massachusetts. "Whadda you mean you can't accept it?" I am then informed that my document is too old (five years by this time) to be accepted. "Sorry, new rules since September 11." "Do you have your driver's license?" she asks. Knowing it contains my new name, I quickly hand it over. "Well we can't accept this either since it's expired." At this point, I being looking around for hidden cameras. "So let me get this straight," I say. "I can't renew my driver's license because my Social Security card has a different name and I can't get a new Social Security card because my my driver's license is expired?" "Yes," she says with a straight face, and I'm told to sit back down to wait for someone behind the opaque door to come out and get me.

Let's just say that by this time I was pissed and my ass was sore from sitting in those hard plastic chairs for three hours. I finally get called back and the woman lists off all of the possible documents I could use change my name: a marriage license--nope mine's too old; a driver's license--nope mine is expired; a court order changing my name--funny I don't have one of those handy.

At this point, I've rummaged through my bag pulling out every credit card, library card, insurance card and random piece of mail I have with my married name on it. Nothing is acceptable. To each document I proffer, she calmly states that she can't do anything about the law. You know, national security and all.

At our apparent stalemate, she consults her list of acceptable documents one last time and says I could use a medical document with my new name on it. I'm now envisioning a visit to my doctor's office to get a copy of my charts and coming back to the SS office another afternoon to go through this all over again.

And then I remember an old prescription I never filled in the zip pocket of my bag!

I unfold the paper, hand it over to her and she examines it. Understand this is a basically a Word document printed on a generic laser printer with an incomprehensible signature on the bottom authorizing a pharmacy to dispense me the mini-pill (I didn't want to worry about the spotting). She gets up, asks me to wait there and takes my paper back to some higher authority to determine it's validity. After a few minutes she comes back and tells me they'll accept it, but they can only use the name for my new SS card as it appears on this document, which just so happens to be my first name, the initial of my maiden name (with no period) and my married last name. I've been defeated. This is not my name--not the name I wanted--except the government has now said it is.

I'd like to pause for a second. In case you missed it, I could not renew my license originally because of the Patriot Act. Then I couldn't use my valid marriage license as proof of my new last name because of the tightened security procedures, but I was allowed to get a brand new social security card with a Word document! Do you feel safe??

Anyway, my original plan had been to have my first, middle, maiden and married name (yes all four) listed on my SS card. I would never use all of them on a day to day basis, but I wanted to keep them all, because you see I'm currently on my second first name, my first middle name and my third last name.

I was given a first name at birth. When I was adopted ten days later, I was given a different first name. After my mom got remarried many years later, my last name was changed to my step-father's and now I've taken on my husband's. In a way, you can see how I really didn't have a problem changing my name as it had been changed so many times already, but I didn't want to lose that middle name. It's the one name I've had that hasn't ever changed. Alas, I still consider it part of my name, but as far anything official is concerned, it's gone.

Yes, this entirely too long, drawn out story was just my way of telling you that I'm adopted. Remember? I promised I was going to start revealing more personal details.

Maybe Mamma Loves...

As you know, blogging often translates into opportunities receive products to try out or review--sometimes for compensation, sometimes not. Rather than clog up this space with reviews, I'll be posting them over on my new site Maybe Mamma Loves...

I think it will be kind of fun. I won't always be reviewing things I've been asked to review. I'm definitely a girl with strong opinions, so I promise I won't hold back. I also promise to let you know if I've received any compensation for the reviews as I post them.

My first post is up and it's a review of Marlo Thomas' recent book The Right Words at the Right Time, Volume Two.

I hope you'll check it out. It's still under construction, so be gentle.

What You Don't Know

I've been challenged by a fellow blogger to share more of myself in my posts.

See it turns out I'm not as vanilla in real life as I may appear. I'm aware that upon first glance you feel you may make certain assumptions because I'm just another white, married, working, suburban mom, in her late 30's. And in many ways, I am all of those things. And in many ways, I'm not at all. I'm used to it though.

Get to know me, and you might be surprised. Though I haven't really given you the opportunity have I? And there's the irony. I'll admit here that I've peed all over myself in a port-o-let or that the Brazillian is the only way to go, but what have I shared about my life experiences? What have I shared of my beliefs and how they were formed? The thing is, I just didn't think you'd find that information all that interesting. And damn how I don't want to be all "me, me, me, me, me." But I'm taking on the challenge. I'm going to try and let you in.

I find it all so interesting. Obviously as bloggers we feel the need to share something of ourselves with the world. So what holds us back?

Does your blog reflect the whole you? In what way? Or if not, what don't your readers see? Are there things you consciously don't share or is it, like me, that you didn't realize you were leaving the big things out?

In a Galaxy Far, Far Away

You grabbed my hand to hold it and all felt right with the world. My stomach was doing flip flops. I was doing everything I could to prevent my teeth from chattering--that happens when I'm nervous. And, I was left speechless.

Me. Speechless.

I had waited for that moment, contemplated that moment, pictured that moment in my head for weeks and here it was. All I wanted to do was drink it in. I let you talk. I let you lead the way. My heart is pounding just thinking about it all now--all this time later. The world was going on around us traffic signals turning red then green, the sun lowering itself in the late afternoon and the only thing I could feel was your hand on mine. The only thing in my focus was how you kept squeezing my hand as if to make sure I was really there.

And I was there. I was there in that moment drinking in every detail behind my dark sunglasses. I felt safe behind them. They served as my last vestige of protection before you had me wholly. I knew once I let you see my eyes I could never hide anything from you again.

And so it was.

Quick! Call the Doctor!

I think I broke my funny bone.

See! That's the best I can do right now. It's pathetic.

I spent last winter and spring walking through life witnessing all sorts of moments that just begged for a humorous interpretation on this here blog and now? My blog is getting all serious with posts written from my heart and crap like that. I mean how will I ever regain my cred with him or her or her or him or him or her or him? Heh. That's funny. Like I evah had cred with them.

What are my typical go-to topics?

Sex: Haven't stopped any lines at the airports lately to have a dildo inspected.

Kids: No one's been naming body parts lately.

School: Well I was in charge of the annual Fun Fair Cake Walk, but there was nothing funny about crawling around on the floor of the school to tape down letters so already over-weight America could win the 124 cakes that were donated for the event. (Oh and a big BRAAAGH! to the woman who went to Costco, bought the three bread box and split them up and wrapped them individually to make it look like she baked them herself. Own it if you don't bake sweetheart, but don't try to make it look like you slaved away all day.)

Hair Removal: My esthetician went on vacation for two weeks! Trust me. Nothing fun(ny) there at all.

Family: Dad hasn't tried to set my brother up with any other starlets lately. If I get desperate for material (or bored) I might just offer him up on eBay soon.

Politics: SO not funny right now.

See?

Is there a doctor in the house? It's a matter of humor or death. Quick. Send help.

The Blogroll that Never Ends.

The great thing about the neverending blogroll? More posts for NaBloPoMo!

Unfortunately, I've gotten hooked on Stumble Upon lately and damnit if I don't keep finding more sites at which to worship. Think there's any work out there for someone to just read blogs all day long??

Anyway, on with the show...

Velveteen Mind Megan is the final member of the original Gulf Coast Momfia and the scallywag responsible for my new Stumble Upon addiction (damn you Megan!). That aside, Megan's writing is phenomenal. Reading her writing is often like floating down a lazy river on a warm sunny day.

View from the Cloud I have to admit to being a new reader of this blog (which just celebrated its two year anniversary), but I love what I've read. I get the sense that Jeff is just a darn good guy.

The blog formerly known as Vodkarella (and Troll Baby) Karen hasn't decided what her new blog will be yet, but she stays in my feedreader because I know it will be interesting. She's never afraid to be honest and raw, and I admire her for her courage.

Where Am I Going and Why Am I in this Handbasket? Mamatulip--that's some good stuff there.

Wiping Up Snot Karly is outrageous and funny and she homeschools which just amazes me.

Zone Family With three kids myself I completely understand the concept of a zone defense. She hasn't been posting as much lately, but I hope that changes.

Because I Must Blog Any mamma who thinks a "yo momma" joke is funny is a keeper in my book.

Chicken and Cheese Okay I have to admit something here. Mrs. Chicken probably thinks I've abandoned her, but I just discovered that her blog disappeared from my reader. I kept thinking she just hadn't been posting. *smacking my forehead* I have so much to catch up on now. Sorry Mrs. C. Don't let this happen to you. Make sure you don't miss any of the chicken and certainly none of the cheese.

Fussypants See lady! I didn't leave you off. I just had a number of different lists to go through. You know Mamma Loves Mrs. Fussypants.

It's Really Me First you get to read about Riley--the rockstar--and you get to share some time with Beth. I've never met her in real life, but through her writing I just know she's one of those people who would feel like an old friend immediately.

Confessions of a Pioneer Woman I'd visit Ree's blog if it was only for the gorgeous photos, but her writing is wonderful as well--as you can tell by the gagillions of comments she receives. I don't comment, but I lurk.

Greeblemonkey I'm embarrassed to say this is another blog I haven't been reading for long, but I just know that Aimee is my kind of girl.

I'd Rather Be Blogging I seriously think I was high when I was working on blogs A-J. Sorry Maureen. You know I love you.

We're almost done folks, but I can't finish tonight because my lids are flapping as I type.

Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh

Sometimes you're going along surviving French III, making headway with your parents to extend your curfew and next thing you know life is raining on your perfectly, poufy, hot-rolled hair. That's how it seemed to me, at 16, when my sister's life started spinning out of control toppling the rest of my family over with her.

Drug addiction is an ugly thing.

Screaming, emergency room visits, rehab, changing schools, yelling, rehab, calls from the police, running away, rehab, padlocks on bedroom doors, counseling, rehab... A joke developed around the house.

Me: Mom I can't find the camera.
Mom: We used to have one.
Together: But it wasn't nailed to the counter. {explosion of laughter}

An addict will pawn anything to get money for drugs, whether it belongs to them or not.

You might think we sound heartless having enjoyed a laugh while my sister was obviously suffering in such a profound way, but we had too. Daily life was too hard. We all spent so many days, months--shoot years--walking on egg shells, not knowing what would happen next, worrying that we knew what would, that we needed a little levity just to cope.

Humor is a tactic my family's employed a number of times over the years to avoid drowning in the buckets of shit that have been poured over our heads. I think it's why one of my favorite movie scenes is the one in Steel Magnolia's when Sally Field is cursing the world over her daughter's coffin and Olympia Dukakis offers up Shirly MacLaine's face for a smack. The relief of laughter after heaving sobs is like a cleansing shower.

Life sucks at times and we all need a way to figure out how to keep going. And this is all a very long way of explaining why I nominated Kris from I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Wino for the October Perfect Post award. The woman understands the importance of a good laugh.