Sexy Bait and Switch

The proverbial pot of gold at the end of the potty training rainbow is filled with M and M's.

The sad part is, that I ate all the "gold" when I was buzzed last night.

Ooops.

Sexy Skin

We are stuck in a blizzard, which is fabulous since I love to ski. However, after skiing in knee-deep snow all morning, my Jello legs needed some hot tub time.

I don't allow bathing suits in the hot tub, since whatever gallon of soap most people feel compelled to wash their suits in ruins the water for weeks.

So, there I am, naked in the tub when the neighbors, who have not set foot in their condo for TWO YEARS decide to not only show up, but have a shoveling party on their deck. As the 105-degree water began to make me feel sick and I could feel my skin peeling off, my body was screaming to get out. If it was just the woman, I could have laughed about the situation and asked her to turn around. But I doubted the teenage son and father would feel the same way.

50 minutes of scalding hot, bromine laced water later, I think I should have either sucked up the muscle cramps or flashing the twins.

Anything Can be Grown-up Game

As the hectic energy of Christmas Day passes out on the couch and I assess the olio of presents (and bags of ribbons and wrappings to be recycled) I am seeing there are several ways to make any kid's game into a late-night drinking game.

My favorite one is this: I bought Baby Boy a Dentist Crocodile where you take turns pressing on teeth. When you hit the wrong one, the mouth slams down on your hand. CHOMP.

After 7, whoever gets CHOMPED has to do a shot of Petron.

(See where the mind goes after 5 hours of putting together a train table last night.)

Sexy Extra Virgin...

I bought this gorgeous, expensive bottle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil. The bottle is too tall to fit into our cabinets, so it found a home in the wine rack.

Guess who just came home (after a visit to "Santa,"http://sexynaptime.blogspot.com/2010/12/highly-informed-santa.html(20 mins) being stuck in the mall parking lot (45 mins) and a snowy drive home (25 mins) with a howling toddler in the backseat) and poured herself a giant glass of "wine." And yes, that includes a giant gulp before the reality sunk in...

Gag. Vom. Gag.

Highly Informed Santa

I have been a bad Mommy about Christmas this year. We made a huge deal about Hanukkah, which was like three weeks ago, and now I am over it. We don't even have our tree yet--save for a tiny table top thing I got from Trader Joe's. If Santa is watching, I am so on the Black Coal list--and not even the good coal that turns in a diamond if I sit on it long enough.

So, despite every instinct, I took Baby Boy to the mall to see Santa. I wasn't sure if the sitting on the lap part would happen, but at least he could look and maybe fist bump an elf.

The third store when you walk in our mall is the Apple store. More festive than the North Pole itself, there was a huge Santa in the front window looking at an iPhone.

Baby Boy sprinted to the display. "Oh Santa, Santa..." he cooed. Santa, of course, didn't react.

"Huh," BB said. "Santa busy watching the news." And he turned to go.

I wasn't sure if I should walk him down to the real Santa or let him think Santa was deeply involved with CNN on his Smart Phone.

I chose the latter and yes, I know I am going to Christmas Hell for it.

The Privacy Learning Curve

During a quick trip to the noontime rush grocery store, we made a quick potty stop (for me).

It was at the check out line when Baby Boy decided to ask (yell) in front of the cute, young, male cashier (as well as the 12 people behind us), "Mama, what was that string for?" As he jammed a finger toward my crotch.

No classy way to answer that one.

Sexy Biscuits

On yet another cold and raw day, the dog was whining for me to take him out...immediately. I like to bribe him with cookies to wait until Darling Husband gets home, but even peanut butter treats were not an alluring compromise to his bladder.

Bundled up as much as possible, I dragged him from yard to yard amazed as always how much pee he can target for certain shrubs.

Anyway, partly through the jaunt, a trash truck sidled up. The man hanging off the back was wearing a ski mask and looked like he was about to rob a bank. I could hear him yelling in my direction as I yanked the dog away faster. ( I was in no mood to be hit on by someone who had an old banana peel stuck to their pants).

He chased us and panting, said he had a biscuit for the dog. "It helps them not be scared of the trucks," he explained. Since my dog had not even glanced at the truck never the less acted afraid of it, I hesitated. But he waved the cookie in the dog's face, and produced several more as I shivered in the freezing rain.

That was two days ago. Now thank to Trash Man and his Scaredy Dog Biscuits, the damn pooch runs after every truck that goes by barking for more.

Damn you Pavlov, Damn you.

Sexy, Chubby Squirrel

Lately, our living room has turned into a Nat Geo channel of sorts. On one window sill, Baby Boy perches like an eager cat and watches the squirrels and birds eat the berries from the tree.

One of the larger squirrels visits often and engages BB in staring contests much to my delight (gives me free moments to Facebook).

I explain daily that the critter is so fat because he is getting ready for winter. It was only a matter of time until BB asked a fat neighbor if he was also "getting ready for winter."

Luckily, the elevator closed before that question could be explored further.

Mom Vs Elmo

Today was one of those days. A whine fest to rival none other. So, after a non-existent nap, I decided a trip to Tar-zhay would put a smile on faces all around.

Things were going pretty well until Baby Boy spotted a goddam mountain of Tickle Me Elmos smack in the middle of the aisle. I had already sent a disclaimer instead of Christmas cards out warning that anyone that brought that Devil toy into the house would be unfriended, ASAP.

The next several minutes torpedoed into a full-on, like nothing I have ever witnessed from my child, tantrum with him throwing himself atop the red beast's (thankfully quite secure) box screaming "Get Him Out Now!"

As the crowd gathered (I saw a look of relief pass amongst the moms that at least it wasn't their child--this time.) I realized that perhaps none of them had made the connection that he was actually mine (thankfully, he has started to look more like Darling Husband--and that is the first time I have been grateful for that).

My second thought was the horror of someone recognizing me as the parenting columnist--if word got out that THIS is how my child behaved, I would be fired, run from town, banned from restaurants--tagged as artificial as my blonde hair and boobs.

Around this time, BB triggered the button that makes Elmo laugh, and now all bets were off. I managed to get him into the cart and sprinted for the register--he still had death grip on the now quite mangled box, which I still had zero intention of buying.

As soon as we got to the line, he saw the latest US Weekly. Elmo fell to the floor with a thud (I gracefully kicked him into the vacant neighboring checkout booth) and celebrity rag took over.

He is mine after all.

Rainman, the Remix

Baby Boy was alone for 30 seconds and dumped 499 Q-tips all over the floor. When I saw giant mess (as I was trying to get into the car) this I screeched (hypothetically), "Do you have any idea how many Q-tips there are now all over the floor?"

Then he stared at the pile very intently, almost as if he was counting them. I was stunned for a moment he may actually come up with the number a la Rainman and the toothpicks.

Then he met my eyes and said, "Too many."

Guess we aren't on the next flight to Vegas after all.

Picking New Parents

I think after five days in a row of 24/7 family time, Baby Boy is over it.

I took him shoe shopping this morning, (sadly, Mommy didn't have time to decorate her feet for the holidays) and a young kid, Tim, was our clerk. Obviously nervous when a toddler was in his area, he was fun to watch as he fumbled with BB's little feet and passion for wanting pink sneakers. (As in chucking brown shoes across the room and yelling, "Need pink!")

When he was bending down to feel where BB's toe was, BB gently leaned down and kissed the top of Tim's (by the looks of it, not so recently washed) head.

He doesn't even kiss me.

THEN we went to lunch and a very pretty lady walked by. Baby Boy took one look and followed her all around the restaurant. When she finally discovered he was climbing into the seat across from her, I decided to take it personally.

To be fair, she was wearing a fabulous pair of pink boots.

Sexy Wreath Making Party

I received an email from a friend that she was having a Wreath Making Party tonight. I assumed, like a Book Club, it was an excuse to ditch the fam for a few, drink and gossip.

Upon entering the dining room, I saw women crouched in high levels of concentration, wearing GLOVES with personalized stem cutters sifting through crates of pine cones, berries, glitter and doves that they had brought.

I brought wine.

They saw me before I could flee.

"Where are your materials?" one asked, gaping in horror at my empty hands.

LIE: "I used them already during a marathon session another friend had this morning. My wrists are killing me!"

I sat down awkwardly at an empty stool and sipped (gulped) my wine, hoping someone would be like, "Yes! Finally someone I can talk with that isn't obsessed with leafy decor!"

Nope.

I tried to offer critiques, such as, " Maybe if you balanced off that cardinal with a Baby Jesus, it would look more Feng Shui..."

But I think next time I get invited to an arts and crafts night, I will decline in hopes a Book Club gets scheduled for the same night at a local bar.

Sexy Smart Phone

My Sister-in-law makes an insane chocolate cream pie and she surprised us with one yesterday.

When she left this morning, I was so excited that she had forgotten to take the leftovers with her. (I have already done many stealth finger-scoops when passing the fridge.)

My phone likes to assume what I am going to type, often changing very regular, correctly spelled words e.g. "diner" to "dinosaur" engaging in its own bizarre madlibs.

I just went to text S.I.L this: "I am so excited you left the pie here. I am going to eat the whole damn thing." And it changed THING to THIGH. Did I accidently download the Guilt App?

Smart phone? More like Smarty Pants phone...

Super Sexy (Legit) Emails

I hadn't checked my email in about two days. Come to find out, a lot can happen in two days.

Apparently, my luck fairies took pity on me and I won a million dollars in the (African) lottery; a prince wants to marry me (for a small fee, but I get all the crowned jewels when I get to Nambia!); a slew of super smart women who introduce themselves by, "I respectktful, sexy, descreet, hornee lady wants to meer you Mr.!" want to meet me (or my father?); and I can get a bigger penis with very reasonably priced Canadian drugs!

Christmas has come early! And my SPAM blocker is F.I.R.E.D.

PS DH is downstairs "working out" but I can hear DWTS blasting through the floor.

Truckin'

There is a fairly large (and unappreciated) development going in at the end of our road. One PRO to this is that ripping down large amounts of forest involve giant trucks. When the sun sets at 3pm this time of year, any activity that involves sitting in a warm car and keeps Baby Boy occupied for 20 minutes is also a PRO, my environmental inclinations aside.

At least two times a day, I idle across from the site, watching the workers buzz about and operate large engines that ROAR and RIP, and BB stares euphoric from the back seat.

Today, he pawed at the window wanting to say HI to the closest truck. When I put the window down, I saw a group a workers start laughing. They saw me staring, suddenly self-conscious.

"We see you watching us everyday," one called. "We didn't realize you had a kid in the back."

Damn you, tinted windows. Damn you.

Until You Dance a Circle in My Arms...

At music class today, one of the older toddlers begged the teacher, Matt, to carry him around when we danced in a big circle to the "Choo Choo" song.

When the song was over, Matt took a giant gulp of water and turned to face the 12 moms.

"I owe you all an apology," he said. "I never understood why you weren't all singing with me when dancing with your kids in your arms." He rubbed his shoulder. "I get it now! Those are heavy kids. You are all so strong!"

"Yes, but only on one side," I said.

If evolution is real, why do mom's still only have two arms??

Leave Me Alone...

On this unseasonably gorgeous November day (sadly, the sun still said he will set at 3pm), we decided to grab some sandwiches at the local gourmet market for a picnic. While I was at the register, Baby Boy darted between the wine racks. I didn't hear any crashes and I wasn't about to lose my place in line, so I let him roam. (Maybe he was about to find my new favorite Pinot?)

After I paid, I walked around the corner and heard a lady talking to him.

"Hi there handsome. My name is Lisa. What's yours?"

"Nan." (That's what he calls himself.)

"Why, aren't you such a big boy shopping all by yourself! What are you going to buy?"

Then I heard him grunt and in a voice borrowed from Satan he growled, "Go home. I'm pooping."

Ah, lovely. And I hadn't brought his diaper bag.

Case of the Mixed-Up Boyfriend

For some reason, my mom calls Baby Boy her boyfriend. As in, "Oh, this little guy? Yes, he's my boyfriend."

It was strange, but grandmothers will be as they be.

Now my mother has a real boyfriend.

She called this morning (she babysat BB a few nights ago) to regale me with a funny tale about "her boyfriend." She went on and on about how he likes spending all day in his jammies even when they are covered with food and the fuss he makes when he doesn't get a sponge bath before bed.

I still have no idea if she was talking about my two- year old son or her 75-year old mate.

Sexy Bathroom Break

I was at Whole Foods today and very much looking forward to lunch at their sushi bar. Having forgot something to read (and not wanting to sit there inviting small talk with my lack of something to do) I grabbed a Veg News magazine on my way by.

There was a wait for the bar, so I walked over to the bathroom. I didn't want to leave my magazine and risk someone else snagging it, so I took it with me.

As I walked in, a girl about four-years old sitting by the door says at the volume only four-year olds can.

"See, that lady takes mag-zines into the bathroom just like daddy does!"

As the door closed I saw everyone turn to stare at me. I stayed in there for a long time hoping they would all be gone by the time I got out. But I think they were all imagining that I was also doing what Daddy does in there.

I never got my sushi.

That's What Who Said?

I was getting waxed this morning. My regular gal was off on her honeymoon, and there was an older lady in her place. This makes me uncomfortable. Once you establish a relationship with your waxer, it is hard to just jump to another one, without even so much as dinner first.

I was getting the trifecta done: underarms, lower leg and Brazilian. The lady tried to hide the fact her hand was shaking while she lifted my leg over my head.

"Let's just jump straight to the hard part," she quivered.

Trying to soothe myself with humor, I squeaked. "That's what she said."

She cocked her head and stared at me, as a stream of hot wax dripped onto my inner thigh.

"That's what who said, dear?"

Guess someone is a little behind in The Office.

Sexy Halloween

Our current neighborhood isn't the Mecca of Halloween like the one I grew up in was; people actually bussed country kids in to Trick or Treat on my street. Some years we gave away 400 peanut butter cups (not counting the 200 I single handedly ate, which is why I cannot give away Reese's or I will eat them all).

But this year I was determined to have a real Halloween. So I got us all cowboy costumes. Baby Boy would have nothing to do with his. He even resorted to tossing his boots down the cat door. So, DH and I were dressed like we lived in Montana circa 1860 and Baby Boy looked like he worked at modern day LL Bean.

We got one knock on the door from the 8-year old neighbor who didn't even have a candy sack because, "it didn't really go with her outfit." We walked to the other neighbor's only to get sucked into a chocolate martini party.

But she had a pumpkin full of Reese's, I ate about 45, so all turned out fine.

Sexy Hygiene

My son loves "washing his hands." He ends up entirely soaked, diaper and all, but he gets an A for effort.

After lunch, when hummus was slathered in his hair, ("Jus ike Dada mousse!" he explained) I asked him to go into the bathroom and wash his hands while I did post-lunch damage control (by calling the dog in to lick up the mess).

It was quiet in there and I didn't hear the faucet on...moments later I find him elbow deep in the toilet. "Jus ike baf time," he explained.

"Yes," I sighed. "That is exactly where you are going now," I say trying to ignore the "eu du toilette" water dripping off his face.

Sexy Pizza

We went to a local pizza place for dinner tonight. The patrons breakdown as thus: 50% are there to watch football, 49% are divorced dads there for their weekly dinner with the kids and 1% is us.

Darling Husband dropped me off at the door so I could snag a table while he parked with Baby Boy. The crowd of 20-something smokers that made it nearly impossible to pass without "show me your boobies, baby!" was thick. But I was hungry.

We ended up in a booth abutting a single dad on a first date (along with his toddler son as wingman) with an an eager-to-please woman and T-boning our table were the rowdy smokers I had the pleasure of meeting on the way in.

At one point, one of the obnoxiously drunk smoker's keys slipped from his back pocket and jangled to the floor. That sound is music to any kid's ears. The toddler, whose dad was sucking cheese off his date's tongue, flopped to the floor and grabbed the keys. He happily hopped back into the booth where the keys found a new home at the bottom of his dad's beer mug.

I wonder how many boobies it will take to get him a new set.

Sexy as a $2 Bill...

A few years ago, the strip club in town started giving change in the form of $2 bills--this way, patrons would be forced to tip the dancers more. So, there is a running joke anytime has a $2 bill that they have been to Platinum.

In my every-so-often raid of Baby Boy's piggy bank for coffee money ( I always pay it back,with interest) I found three $2 bills of them wadded to the side. (I guess I am not the only one sneaking quarters now I am??)

An hour later, at Starbucks, I handed them over with the obligatory, "I swear I am not a stripper."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what you all say," the barrista said as he tried to touch the offending money as little as possible.

"Those may have been in a thong, but I promise it wasn't mine," I joked.

He eyed me for a second. "Actually, you do look like you could be one."

Since I was dressed for a business meeting, that was certainly the wrong back-handed compliment to give me. So I stole a biscotti. Boom Chick-a Boom, Starbucks.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like...

It is October and damn all the seasons and holidays in between now and Christmas!

I don't know why the stores torture us by slipping fake snow into their windows now (under the guise of spider webs) and just leave the damn stuff up all year, elves and all.

Giftmas is never that far from the children's minds, why shouldn't it be from my credit card's either?

Baby Boy and I were having brunch on Saturday when a little girl, about 4, next to us piped up,

"Daddy, I know where Santa lives."

"Where's that, honey?" he was so interested he didn't even look up from his coffee.

"The South Portland!"

In her defense A) her mom may live in South Portland, also where the mall is and B) The North Pole and South Portland are pretty much the same come February.

Happy Hallo-Giving-Mas!

Sexy PEEEEEEE UUUUU

It is never a good sign when a man exits the restroom while you are waiting with the Sunday Times and a 30 oz coffee mug.

But desperate times...

Baby Boy dashed past the man's legs, stopped short and yelled, "PEEEEEEE UUUUUU!"

over. and over. and over.

I mumbled a sorry to the guy and I readied myself for a few minutes of mouth breathing.

Why can't we have those awesome French stalls that wash themselves b/t each use??

Sexy Politicians

Once of the reasons I love living in the country is that we never have to see anyone. And after 7-years, we have trained our neighbors (as lovely as they are) that we dread the unannounced "drop by."

( We like about a month notice.)

So, when I was cleaning up from dinner, the doorbell rang. Darling Husband and I spun around to make panicked eye contact.

"Who the hell could that be at this hour?" he growled. (It was 5:37.)

We froze in hopes that despite of every light in the house blaring, that the visitor/intruder would figure no one was home.

DING DONG.

DH fled up the stairs to get some pants on over his boxers and I stood against the fridge in the kitchen's one blind spot.

I heard the door open and Baby Boy say, as politely as any mother could wish,

"Ey-yo. Come on in!"

I was there in a second to see a man running for State Senate handing him a pamphlet.

"Ask him if he's a Republican," I coached my 2-year old.

"You Pelican?"

"Yes."

"Kay!" SLAM.

I guess we have a new doorman.

Johnny Depp Jr?

Baby Boy and I went to a local inside play area during the rain yesterday. I had lost sight of him for a bit, but knew he was OK.

A little while later, I saw him stroll by wearing a top hat and cape, carrying a naked black baby doll and a broom in one hand and pushing a shopping cart filled with dinosaurs with the other.

I think he may be onto the next Johnny Depp/Tim Burton character.

At least I have a Halloween option now.

Top 9 Ways You Know You Are Too Tired for Nookie

Having toddlers--or any aged kids for that matter--is exhausting for both parents and at the end of the day there isn't a ton of energy left for Nookie time. But we still make the effort. Here is a list that you may want to consider if you are wondering if you are way to tired to roll in the hay.

You actually want the kids to wake up during foreplay.

Your partner doesn't realize that for the past 7-minutes he has been groping your ribs instead.

You wish there was a TiVo to FF to the end.

You actually spend loads of time flossing in hopes s/he will be asleep when you are done.

You consider sneaking to the car and drinking the rest of the day-old coffee in your travel mug.

You mistake his ZZZZZZ's for purrs of pleasure.

You count thrusts instead of sheep.

You lie and say you are ovulating or on your period, whichever is scarier to them.

You both (fake) orgasm together.

Sexy Kitchen Toys

I made the mistake of introducing my Spirali as "Mama's fabulous new kitchen toy!"

I know Baby Boy does not think making zucchini into pasta is fun (I, on the other hand, was counting down the hours until dinnertime), however all he heard was, "blah blah blah TOY."

I found him (and my machine, parts akimbo) in the living room while he attempted to ride the thing like a fire engine, sound effects and all.

I guess dinner will have to be take out. I am really extra bummed because this was the first thing I have ever won on eBay!

Sexy Halloween Planning

I am so grateful I have a son who (most likely) will never want to be a Sexy Nurse, Sexy Cop, Sexy Vampire or anything else posing as an excuse for dressing like a ho for Halloween.

I have never been a fan of Halloween (if I want to dress like a princess, I do it, month notwithstanding). But once you have kids...

DH seems more excited about it than Baby Boy, and asks me daily if I have gotten him a costume (I assume he means the baby).

I finally got around to asking BB what he wants to be for Halloween and he said, "Daddy."

I melted twice--he better one being that it saves me a trip to the Land o' Halloween store.

UNSexy 2am Wake Up Call

We are staying in the city while our driveway gets paved. I was all excited to be urban for the week. I forgot city living comes with neighbors on all four sides.

Neighbor Above got home at 2 am last evening and wasted no time before having some "relations" ( I would call them intimate, but the decibel levels were anything but) directly above us complete with headboard banging and screams of delight.

FOR TWO HOURS.

Sting, is that you?

I hope he is too tired tonight to find another Miss Right and Ready because this Country Girl needs her sleep.

Sexy Woof Woof

I hired a dog trainer to come to the house yesterday to help with some little annoyances we are having with the pooch.

All I can say is A) thank god I put on make-up and B) that DH wasn't home or he would have crated ME.

This guy was the most gorgeous man I think I have ever laid eyes on. Tall, dark, tattoos, accent.

Meeeeeow.

I am ready to eat the couch myself if it means I can stare at him for another 3 hours.

Sexy Lunch

Darling Husband is out of town this evening. So at 10pm last night when I was packing Baby Boy's and DH's lunch, I decided to sneak in a little sexy surprise in the form of little panties (I hate that word!).

10pm, mind you.

Thank GOD I was at school with Baby Boy today when he reached into his lunch bag. I was able to grab the naughty addition away and into my shirt (hopefully) before anyone else saw. I can only imagine if I had been 2 minutes later. At least they were clean.

Sexy Pee...Tea?

I was becoming increasingly impressed that when I would walk by Baby Boy's training potty that it often would have pee in it. Unasked for pee in the potty is one of the more exciting parts of potty training.

If you have toddlers, you know the most important algebraic equation is P+P=M&M (Pee in the Potty equals M and M's).

It was getting to the point where I was considering buying stock in the M & M company.

This morning, I saw BB pouring my leftover tea into his potty and it all became clear.

They pull what ever camomile-colored wool over your eyes in order to get the prize.

Sexy Flower Power

Even though I think hydrangeas are so beautiful, I cannot keep them alive. They look great in a vase for about 5 hours and then droop their way into the composter.

At Starbucks three weeks ago, I saw a stunning sage green clipping tossed in the parking lot. Never one to waste, I picked it up knowing I could get a few hours of beauty from her.

Three weeks ticked by and everyday the hydrangea bloom looked as full and lush as she had the day I found her. The curse is over! I once again can fill the house with hydrangeas!

This morning as I went to change the water in the vase, I realized that it is silk.

Sexy Condom Sense

Nothing quite stops conversation like when your 2 year old hands Nana a condom at dinner and says, "Eat Nana! Eat!"

Who's on First, Toddler Style

We all know the "Who's on first?" bit that Abbott and Costello made famous.

My son does a new version of this pretty much all day long.

Preface: A few weeks ago we went to a petting farm where the baby goat grabbed Van's shirt through the fence and tried to pull him in. Thus far, this has been the highlight of his two-year life. This is how the conversation goes:

"Babu goat bite you!" he squeals as he pulls his shirt.

"No, honey the goat didn't bite Mommy he bit YOU."

"Yesh! Babu Goat bite YOU!"

"So since he bit YOU, you say, 'Baby Goat bit ME.'"

"Babu Goat bite MAMA!"

"No, silly, not ME the Baby goat bit YOU."

"Babu goat bite YOU!"

and on and on...who knew teaching the finer points of grammar would be such a bite in the ass?

Sexy Yoga Nighty

I love love love yoga. If I had to choose, I would probably choose yoga over my husband. (lol...sort of). I went to a three day yoga retreat at Kripalu this past weekend and opted to stay in a dormatory style room--with about 20 other women. I didn't like dorm life in college, so don't ask me what prompted this choice.

(Oh, yes...it was DH hovering over my shoulder saying, "Sign up for that room, it is so much cheaper.")

I also love to sleep naked. I don't own any (appropriate) pajamas to speak of. This didn't bode well when packing for two nights when 20 other people are watching you sleep and when the bathroom is alllll the way down the hall.

Not wanting to sleep in yoga clothes, I dug up an old maternity nighty that is leopard print, faded and equals about a 2XXL in real people size.

Very sexy.

During one yoga session we were asked what our "inner animal" is. Not only did everyone spin to look at me but one woman growled and another went "Meeeeow."

Just to prove them wrong, I said I connect most with the walrus.

The "Not Quite the Same" Moment of the Day

I think Duke thought he had struck gold when we moved the toddler potty in the middle of the living room.

Not quite the same effect, Buddy.

Mistaken Sentence of the Day

Darling Husband had a bunch of wood delivered for the winter. The farm came and dumped it in a huge pile in the driveway. As the delivery man was getting ready to leave (and my husband was calculating the hours and heavy lifting and stacking involved), Darling Husband asked,

"Hey, you don't happen to know a young boy that would like to make a few bucks do you?"

After a few seconds of registering the look of uncomfortable shock on the driver's face, I yelled from the window. "To stack the wood!"

Later, I said to DH, "You always have to complete a sentence that involves young boys and money..."

This Will Just Make You FEEL GOOD

Have you seen this commercial yet of the little girl dancing?: it is WONDERFUL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lK7IzfLmyco

You Say Bidet, I Say AHHHHHHHHRGGGG

We have all been in hotels and rich friends' houses that have one: The Bidet. Used in almost every other place than America, it is the lazy way to get out of taking a real shower.

Other than an unfortunate time when I was eight and my friend and I completely ruined the paint job of her mom's bathroom, I have never used one as intended.

This weekend was different.

We were staying at a very fabulous hotel and got upgraded to the penthouse. (Darling Husband actually slipped the desk girl a 20 and all of a sudden we are Rockafellers.) Anyway, there was a Bidet in the master bath.

All week I stared at it. I turned on and off the faucets. I inspected the height of the fountain.

I decided it couldn't be THAT scary or bad. So on I hopped.

The lesson for the future is to make sure the door is locked so that when Baby Boy's curiosity (and very quiet feet) get the best of him and he cranks on the cold handle, I am prepared.

The Bidet quickly became the Bidon't.

My Little Pony

In order to break up a long car trip, we decided to stop half way at a country fair. This was "great fun." At one point, between sticky food and stickier rides, I saw a sign for pony rides.

Wanting to add a little class and culture to the event, I dragged Baby Boy and Darling Husband over to the ring. I could hardly wait to to have pictures of the boy atop a small brown beast.

Because of the heat, upon approach, I saw all of the ponies were laying down in the shade barely moving.

I elbowed my husband. "This is quite the scam," I whispered. "All of the ponies are dead."

Apparently, I misjudged the hearing of the children around us. The wails of panic that all the ponies were dead filled the air along with dirty glares from the parents--all of whom were smoking and trying to hide beers in their armpits.

Sexy Quiz

Thursday Quiz. What is Grosser?

A) Hearing your son say "Put on Lotion," over and over until you realize the "lotion" is wads of warm goat cheese he picked from a salad you were saving for dinner. (Keep in mind it is about 90-degrees today with 100% humidity so he was as naked and sweaty as a 2-year old can be).

B) Catching Darling Husband cutting his chest hair with the meat scissors. (When I yelled at him he said, "What? I'm doing it over the sink!!")

The Perfect Maine Blueberry Muffin

Now that you have been blueberry picking--or will be soon--you need to start making things with them. I have finally created the Perfect Blueberry Muffin and I am sharing my recipe for the first time. If you want to make a double or triple batch, you can individually wrap muffins in seran wrap (once the cool) and freeze them in a gallon freezer bag...

but they usually don't last long enough to store...

Maggie's Perfect Blueberry Muffins, makes about 16.

Preheat oven to 375. Either spray or line muffin tins with cups.

Combine 2 cups unbleached, all purpose flour; 2 tsp baking powder; 1/2 tsp baking soda and pinch salt in a medium mixing bowl.

Melt a stick of unsalted butter (like local gem Kate's homemade) and let cool. Then, in a large bowl, whisk the butter; 2/3 cup vegan sugar; 2 large farm eggs (I love Pineland Farms eggs); 1 tsp pure vanilla extract; a little more than 1 tsp grated lemon zest; fresh grate or two of nutmeg; and one cup plain full-fat Greek yogurt.

With a wooden spoon, stir in flour mix until just combined. Don't over mix or it will make the muffins tough. Gently stir in a pint of wild Maine blueberries (the little ones).

OPTIONAL CRUMB TOPPING: Place 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/3 cup flour, 1/4 cup room temperature butter. Pinch with fingers until a crumbly texture. Don't over mix or it will be greasy. Sprinkle over muffins before baking.

Bake for 22 minutes, until lightly golden. Don't over bake, they will continue to bake in pan for a minute or so after you take them out.

After a minute, remove muffin from pan to cool on wire rack. Store in a airtight container for 3 days.

Sexy 4am

All weekend long I was waking up at 4am. Thanks to the marriage of a huge moon and crappy blinds, it was like trying to go back to sleep at noon.

This morning I actually needed to get up at 4am to finish my column. Nice to see procrastination habits formed in high school really never do reform. I was so exhausted, I ended up hitting "snooze" until 6. Two hours of mindless arm swatting with 8-minute rests in between. Quality.

I still could not get up regardless of mounting panic and guilt. What I need is an alarm clock with an arm that will hand me coffee while it strokes my hair and tells me how gorgeous I am. Then again, I thought that would happen when I got married.

UNsexy String

I saw our 6-year old guest eyeing me as I walked past in my bikini.

"She's too young to know what cellulite and stretch marks are," I convinced myself.

"I think your bathing suit is broken," she said, pointing. "I see a string. It must be coming apart."

I quickly knew what "string" she was referring to.

"Ah, yes." I coughed. "I'll go tuck, I mean cut that right now."

Damn observant children.

More Blackberries, Please

Baby Boy pronounces "berries" like "boys."

Along the entirety of our driveway are blackberry bushes; they are his new favorite treat.

I wonder what the neighbors think when all day long he has been yelling, "Mama, more black boys! Pick black boys! Eat black boys!"

I, for one, cannot stop laughing. Until the NAACP shows up anyway.

Sexy Camping

Our friends from L.A. were visiting for the week.

We have a lovely cottage that we use as a guest house. It has great high ceilings with cherry beams and mica lights. It sleeps six, has a foosball tables, an eating area (that I stock with lobster shaped cookies, blueberry wines, fancy creams and VIA coffee) and an entertainment system. All windows face the lake.

However, when one spends their days in a concrete jungle, they still consider this "camping."

Imagine their kids' disappointment when they showed up to "camp" and see where they are staying.

Maybe I should have made cookies in the shape of wet, collapsed tents, black flies and hemmorrhoids.

Sexy Menthol

Just when I thought I had nothing interesting to write about...

I heard the yelp only seconds before getting a noseful of menthol.

It was only a few seconds after that I found Baby Boy, naked and glistening in Vick's VapoRub.

He was crying, (menthol will do that to your privates) but still in awe at the goo dripping from his hands onto his new rug.

I suppose, if there is an upside, it will prepare him for High School when fellow daredevils line jock straps with Tiger Balm. Sigh.