Monthly Archives: January 2010

Wednesday confessions

  • I have let my 3-year-old watch “Cars” four times in the past two days, partly because I think TV is a viable babysitter, but also because I really like it.
  • I walked around WalMart holding a Kim Kardashian exercise video for at least 10 minutes today before I finally decided, not at this time.
  • I decided not to buy the Kim Kardashian exercise video when I realized it has been quite a while since I did my Carmen Electra “Strip to Fit” video, which I stopped doing when I realized that repeating any of those “strip tease” dance moves in the presence of my husband would result in the immediate dissolution of my marriage.
  • I like to poke my husband gently as he sleeps. And by “poke gently,” I mean I actually kick the snoring bastard. I discovered that sometimes he will sit up, look at me and say something before rolling over, but he has no memory of it in the morning. So I use it to get him to flip over and at least aim the vocals of the growling bear at the wall. I still don’t understand why two grown adults are expected to share a bed just because they are married. Just last week, when I gave my honey bunny a gentle nudge, he actually got up and went to sleep downstairs on the couch, and I was kinda happy.
  • I love pizza and will eat any type without discrimination. I swear you can hand me a pizza topped with chocolate-covered crickets and Mike-n-Ikes that has been set on fire and I will still eat it. I love pizza.
  • I have no idea where anything on the east coast is in relationship to anything else. I don’t know what’s north or south or closer to the ocean or what states touch. New York, Connecticut, Delaware, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Maryland, Washington DC, all of that New England stuff — not a clue.
  • I desperately want to live somewhere tropical one day.
  • My husband and I watch “The Biggest Loser” while eating ice cream and chips and watch “Intervention” while drinking. We are not very good people.
  • I don’t mind at all that I look like my mother.
  • When I think of my boys growing up, it makes me cry a little.
  • I am a good housewife-chef. I bake a delicious cake that stays moist for a full week, and when I make one and Jim brings the leftovers to work, his co-workers pretty much squeal with joy. My father-in-law actually gets giddy if he gets a piece of cake from my oven. Last week, per our New Year’s Day tradition, I made a turkey with all the trimmings, and it was the juiciest, most delicious turkey ever. I might not be Top Chef or Hell’s Kitchen quality, but Mama’s cooking keeps her boys happy.
  • I rarely if ever separate the clothes before doing laundry.
  • I have upon occasion purposely been rude/unpleasant/snotty to my son’s “father” (for example, putting quote marks around the word father), and it almost always comes back to bite me, yet I still do it.
  • Thanks to my husband’s intervention, I like hockey. I don’t understand it completely, but I like it.
  • I have been unable to get rid of a little black dress that has not fit me since I was 25 years old, because I desperately want to fit into it again one day because it is outrageously sexy. I hate that I think about how fat I have gotten every single day without fail.
  • I cried at Kayla’s wedding, but did not cry at my own.
  • If I were King of the World, the first thing I would get rid of is the designated hitter. Honestly, be a ball player already. Pick up a bat. Wussie league (them’s fighting words, in case you were wondering).
  • My best personality trait is that I have the ability to make people laugh. I’m no comedian, but I can crack a good joke or two, and I like that about myself.

Whew. Glad to get that off my chest!

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The other birthday girl

Remember earlier when I said “it’s all about me!” Seriously, it was the title of the next post, scroll down if you missed it. Jeesh. Anyway, it appears I have been upstaged.

Well, hey there baby girl! This is Aurora Sophia Love, and she entered this world this afternoon, naked and screaming. Which is also how I woke up this morning, so in addition to our birthdays, we have that in common too!

Aurora is the daughter of my niece TJ, making me a Great-Aunt (at the ripe old age of 36!). Wasn’t that nice of TJ to deliver her baby on MY birthday (see how I turned that around and made it all about me again!).

So, Baby Aurora, here are a few things you can count on from your Great Aunt Marney:

  • I will never forget your birthday.
  • I will never, EVER wrap your birthday present in Christmas paper.
  • I will not forget what year you were born, even if your own mother does.
  • I will teach you proper karaoke technique.
  • I will never ever buy you anything that is not pink (I only have boys, so get ready for a pink explosion. Sorry).
  • I will teach you how to love the Cubs.

I am already planning our birthday party for next year, when I will buy her very first Lady Gaga album.

Welcome to the world, Aurora. And Happy Birthday!

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It’s all about me!

Today is January 4. So, in case you are living in a hole and somehow forgot, that means….

IT IS MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I am 36 years old today — but don’t tell my mother. She once gave me a lovely birthday card, one of those mini books that goes on about all the headlines of the year you were born.

“All the Headlines from the year you were born, 1973,” it read.

“Mom, I born in 1974,” I said.

“Oh…. well, you were due in 1973,” was her response.

I love birthdays. I like to put on a ribbon and find a reason to go out in public. If I am out on my birthday, and say, someone asks for my ID, I do not give them a chance to say “Happy Birthday!” Because I tell them. Loudly. So everyone can hear. I am a birthday brat.

I think (though my mother would have to tell me if I am correct or not) that my Grandmother was also a birthday brat, so maybe I inherited it from her. You know, most folks LOVE their birthday when they are young. It’s all about presents and parties when you are little. Then the excitement of becoming a teenager, the eagerness to drive a car at 16, to be “an adult” at 18, to drink (for the first time ever, of course) when you are 21. A lot of people usually see 25 as a milestone too. You know you are still young, but it seems like a doorway to adulthood.

But something happens to a lot of people when they hit 30. They DREAD it. I believe it was my mother who dyed her hair platinum blonde on her 30th birthday to prove she was still young. People make lists of the things they want to accomplish by the time they are 30! Then, if they don’t achieve it, they bump it up to 40. Because suddenly you are 35, 36, 37… and 30 doesn’t seem so old anymore. And on and on.

But not me.

Throw a surprise party for my Mom, and she’ll throw a surprise punch at your face. My sister Amy is the same way, don’t even THINK about wishing her a Happy Birthday, lest you have to listen to why it’s nothing to be so damn happy about!

But not me.

I wonder if there will be a birthday when I DO dread it. I don’t necessarily think my Grandmother ever did. I suppose it won’t be when I turn 40 that bothers me, it’s when my kid turns 40 that I might feel it. Of course, hopefully by that time I will be getting ready to embarrass my grandchildren at karaoke night. I can hear it already — “Who is Lady Gaga, and why does Grandma keep singing about a disco stick? Make her stop dancing. We’re going to have to put her in a home sooner than we thought.”

Bah. Birthdays are ALWAYS fun.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!!!!

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