Vacation Tips for the Misguided Trip Planner

I will be on vacation for the next week, so my blogging may be limited. It's not like I have a mass audience, anyways, or that anyone comments for that matter, however, it makes me feel better to inform the few who DO read this.

I wanted to list some websites that may help you keep your sanity and help you truly relax while on a family vacation.

1. How to pack? Check out whether to roll the clothes or lay them flat.

2. What to pack for a beach vacation? This site will give you the must-haves.

3. Need a checklist to ensure a successful beach visit? See this link.

4. Can't stand your father-in-law's wife? Yes, you know, the lady he married after your mother-in-law who has sworn off all carbs and other foods with actual flavor and never had children but insists on correcting yours ? Check out how to deal with difficult people to shrug off an argument before you blow up.

The Love You Live For

Before I had children, I wasn't complete. I didn't realize how very selfish I was the majority of the time. I think it's hard not to be selfish when all that exists in your world are issues that pertain to you- like what you need to get accomplished, or what lies in your future, or what your favorite flavor of ice cream is (Girl Scout Samoa Ice Cream by Edy's or Dreyer's is mine!).

I never expected having children to be as enriching and self-transforming as it has been. The amount of love that you have for your child is inexplicable. It's a love so great, that you would without hesitation, give your life to spare theirs.

My son Kylan, has an obsession with my hair. Some children may cry for their blankies, or maybe a teddy bear. My son, yes, he cries, "Hair!" I love it. I love that he needs me, and that somehow, he associates safety in my tangled tresses. You can't make up the stuff your children cling to. They develop their own habits, their own fears, and their own personalities. You're obligation is to help guide them and keep them safe.

Getting back to the love you have for your kids- I can't imagine, now that I know what this love feel like, not wanting to find out what that feels like. I don't quite understand the people who select a life void of having children. I'll tell you right now, if you're bothered by someone else's kids, you always will be. I still want to kick some fiesty bullies in the shins when they taunt my baby. I'm sure my kids bother the bejeezus out of other people, but you smile at their rambunctiousness rather than roll your eyes at it when the kids are your own. You also start to understand the tantrums of other people's children a hell of a lot better when your dealing with the tantrums of your own children.

All in all, having children has made me whole. I get it now. It was a learning process, and still is every day as far as being a parent is concerned, but I would never have completely matured, or lost a majority of my selfishness had I not had Kylan and Digby. They are gifts from God, and he has helped show me what true love really is. And my husband is not all that bad either.

I am human. Nice to meet you.

Today I started a new job teaching indoor cycling at L.A. Fitness. It's a brand new facility, great amenities, and so far, there's nothing that compares to it in the Pittsburgh area. It's simply the best gym day care I've seen around, and I'm comparing that to Heathtrax, Alexander's Athletic Club, Bally's, and Xtreme Fitness Centers. Left is a sample picture of the Kids Klub at another L.A. Fitness, but the one in Pleasant Hills is similar.

I showed up 15 minutes early, thinking that would be enough time to get everyone set up on their bikes, but I had a hell of a time with the stereo system. Also, I'm used to having a remote with me to adjust the volume level if someone has a question or to skip a song if I don't feel it's suitable for the class' fitness level.

So, some lady, who I eventually find out is my boss, barges in and fiddles with the stereo equipment in the middle of my class, saying, "Go ahead, keep teaching." Because my class is primarily all beginner cyclers, I get off my bike to help adjust some of my students. I want to make sure everyone's equipment is safe, that they feel comfortable asking me questions, and I get everyone's name.

The class ends up being a great first class, despite all the interruptions and getting the bugs worked out of the new equipment. But then my-boss-lady-person, who told me her name but it escapes me now because she rattled me so badly, finds me after class to tell me she has a few suggestions.

a) That I have my music prepared so that I don't have a need to get off the bike.
b) That I instruct the class as a whole as to how to operate the bikes safely, rather than visit them individually.

This is where I get defensive. I don't mean to, but when you're nervous enough to hold your first class in a new place with new bosses, you really don't want the first reviews of your performance to be 100% negative. I nodded my head yes and said thank you, but I really wanted to address a couple of issues with her.

First of all, I am human. Here's what I mean: This lady could've asked me how long I've been teaching or if I've toured the majority of the new facility. Secondly, now that I have children, I find it so hard to understand how after I mentioned that I needed to pick them up at the Kids Klub, that she declined to comment on their existence. All I'm asking for is a little, "Oh, you have kids? How old are they?" or, "What are their names?" or maybe even just a simple, "Children are nice." Well, maybe not that- because then I would genuinely suspect that she really could be a robot.

Oh, and lastly, the fact that you're mean and dressed completely in black really does make you extremely witch-like, so I would suggest nixing the mean part.

I could never be the type of person to completely neglect anyone's feelings. It's just not in my blood, and if that's the type of blood you need to be a supervisor, then I'm just fine with my measly instructor job. Please, a little kindness would be really refreshing.

Dropping the "F" Bomb

To keep our family afloat financially, I bartend on Saturday nights. Even if we had enough money to pay the bills, which never seems to be the case, I would still bartend one day a week. Not only do I make some green, I get to meet some pretty interesting folks and make new friends. It's my one night a week, although I am working, that I get to have some good ol' fashioned fun for myself and converse with (gasp) ACTUAL ADULTS.

I love to talk about my children to the guests that visit the bar, especially to those that have children because I feel they can relate to- and tolerate- my stories better. To one friendly couple in their late-forties-possibly-early-fifties, I explained that Kylan is really starting to take off in the English language department. I guess my story should have come with a disclaimer: WARNING- What I am about to tell you does contain profanity.

Me: So my son, Ky, was in the backseat of his Gigi's car (his grandma's car) and says, "Gigi, I'm sorry." Gigi says, "It's okay honey, you didn't do anything wrong." Kylan apologizes again, "Gigi, I'm sorry," and concludes with, "Fuck, it's a bad word."

Mrs. Couple Lady: Oh My Word! Now where would he have learned that word?!

She says this with utter disgust. She's now looking at me like she needs to call child protective services. I keep an eye on how her hand seems to be subconsciously moving toward her cell phone. This phenomenon in itself demonstrates how a Ouija board actually works.

Me: Uh, well, I think, um, that he may have picked it up while I was driving. I say some pretty awful things sometimes, uh, but I'm a good mom, and I don't condone that type of language.

Meanwhile, I'm not going to lie to ya, I thought Kylan's use of the word was both very honest and hilarious. Of course, inappropriate on every level, but it just goes to show how attentive our children are. They are like little sponges, absorbing our every reaction and every word. I will say, that although I do not swear like a sailor, the occasional "F" bomb does make an appearance when I am fucking upset. See?

I guess I read my Mr. and Mrs. Bar Couple incorrectly. I expected a hearty chuckle from the story, so I highly doubt they'll be coming in on my Saturday night shift any longer. I'm not G rated enough for their liking. F them.

My Husband's Romance Tactics

I will tell you, that before I had children, I was an extremely sexual being. My sex drive was higher than my husband's (then boyfriend), and I actually got angry when he was too tired to please my sexual demands. Our days consisted of getting up at a lazy 11am, going out to lunch, and then pawing all over each other for the remainder of the day. Dinner was squeezed in amongst seductive suggestions, and before you know it, we were destroying a neatly made bed by attempting new and exciting positions.


Then, only a couple of years later, I now look forward to a couple of hours uninterrupted sleep far more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sex. I yearn for sleep. I know that if I can fit in a mere three hours, continuously, that I can function properly the next day.

Now, to be fair, I know that a happy marriage must have a healthy dose of happy sex. I'm down for that- or up, or on all fours, or whatever. However, I still need to be wooed. I want to be appreciated and loved, not insulted. Here is my example of an insult from my husband.

"Kylan just told me he heard a woodpecker outside. Would you like to see mine."

No, I wouldn't. In fact, never again after that comment.

Another example would be Hubby coming into the bedroom stark naked, after I've been asleep for several hours, waking me up with a harsh, "Hey, I've got something for you to suck on."

Really? Because I was just dreaming about how after an exhausting day with the kids, there isn't anything I'd like to do more! Hooray for the taste of penis!

My actual response is completely the opposite. I would much rather sever his member than than become a member of his Insensitivity Club. Please, any help with how I can bring my husband back to the land of romance and foreplay will be greatly appreciated.

4th of July at the Pittsburgh Zoo

My little boys are my life. I never lose sight of this fact, and on a day like today, July 4th, I am once again reminded that childhood is sacred. My husband and I took Ky and Baby Diggs to the Pittsburgh Zoo along with their Gigi (my mother-in-law), and the whole experience gave us all so much to laugh at, thus creating lasting memories for me and my family.

Never underestimate what small children can learn. Kylan knows the difference between a two-toed sloth and a colobus. To me, anything that swings from a tree in a tropical environment is a monkey.

"Look at the monkey, Ky!"

"No, Mama, that's not a monkey. That a lemur."

My bad.

Digby just took everything in from the convenient view of his Baby Bjorn. I admit, it kills my back, but any over-the-shoulder contraption that keeps baby quiet for hours at a time is worth the agony. Judging from Digby's coos and eyebrow raising, I believe the jellyfish exhibit was his fav.

Later we figured Ky, age two, would really dig the fireworks, as he did at age one. He response to the very first beautiful burst of light was, "Wanna go NIGHT, NIGHT! Hold me tight."

So I did. And he went to bed. Now it's my turn.

Brutal Honesty Final Gets My Attention

So obviously, I've skipped describing a huge chunk of my life. Like how I screwed up college, or how I ended up in jail more than once, and how I slept with more guys than I'd like to admit (or count). And to be honest, those events are meaty blogs to post for the future. Oddly enough, without all of the terrible, awful, no-good, very bad things that happened to me, or that I brought upon myself, I wouldn't be the loving mama I am today. I was truly blessed to have been a walking disaster because I can now give an accurate account of what happens when someone habitually makes the wrong decisions, and good things don't happen. I eventually started to learn from those experiences, but it wasn't until years later, after I made enough wrong choices to fill a baseball stadium, that I realized I had no audience to perform for. The only one applauding my bad behavior was me.



But someone said the right thing to me, at the right time, to piss me off enough to change my life. It wasn't even anyone who really mattered all that much to me. Her name was Kelly, and she worked with me at a bar. A group of the girls that worked there were talking about work in general, and Kelly blurted out, "Yeah [Misguided Mama], you're definitely a LIFER."

Now, a lifer is someone who ends up doing something for the rest of their days on this planet. Kelly just told me she whole-heartedly believed that I would die sliding a Bud Light down to Bus Driver Ed during happy hour. Although I had been there for four years, and I greatly enjoyed bar tending, Kelly's statement made it clear to me, and everyone else, that I really had no ambition to do anything else. I'm telling you right now, you don't want to be a bartender forever. It's quick money, but you have to be nice to everyone, even when they're rude and demeaning. The lifestyle is draining. I would sleep my days away, work until 3am, then end up drunk at an after hours bar or partying at someone else's house until 4am. Most mornings I'd end up next to someone I knew vaguely, and some mornings next to someone I didn't know at all. Rinse and repeat. This was my life. Not very rewarding to say the least.

I was 26 when Kelly dropped this bomb on me. Hell, she didn't know she said anything wrong, but I'm sure the scowl on my face said it all. I did NOT want to be a lifer. I wanted better things for myself. So the next day, I got myself back into school- a very prestigious community college. Kelly, with her random act of bluntness, helped Reality to fire a signal flare into my realm of vision, and with just enough light to get my attention.