On Friendship, by Miss Chatterbox

Yesterday, on November 8th, our lovely Miss Chatterbox turned 7 years old.  Since her birthday fell on a weekday, she will be celebrating it with her close friends this coming Sunday.  It was so cute that she chose fifteen of her closest friends--all girls (Thank YOU, Jesus for that! lol).

She has been wanting to have an intimate, "not-too-big (in her own words) tea-party" with her close friends at home.  At first I was a bit reluctant, considering all the whirlwind that has been happening around here.  But then I thought about how quickly time flies, and that soon, my little girl would probably not even want to celebrate her birthdays at home anymore.  So at the last minute (I know, bad Mommy!), I agreed that she could have that tea-party she has been wishing for.

Yesterday, while spending some quality time together in my study room, Miss Chatterbox asked if she could borrow my computer to type a post for Mommy's blog.  When I first read it, I was surprised at the topic she chose: friendship.  And I must say that I was quite impressed (yep, I was clearly being a proud mama here) with what she had to say.

So, I decided that I would 'borrow' her post and dedicate it to all my bloggy friends out there.  You know who you are.  I could not convey enough how much your friendships meant to me.  The comments that you have left on my recent posts, I've read over and over again.  They have given me strength and the love that I was so thirsty of during some of my lowest points.  Your tweets made me smile even at times when I felt that the last thing I wanted to do was smile.  The outpouring of emails and direct messages I had received from some of you, offering me shoulders to cry on, listening ears, precious times out of your busy schedules to let me know that you cared.  Even when I had been quite MIA lately, many of you continued to pay me a visit through my blog just to check on how I was doing.

I can't thank all of you enough for that.   And so... this post is for ALL of you, my dearest friends.  I love you even though we have never met.  I am now a believer that bloggy friends can be true friends in every sense of the word.  I think even Miss Chatterbox realized this, and I think in some ways that was why she decided to write this post for her Mommy's bloggy friends... 

Translation:

A friend can be different but you can still be a friend.  Different house, parents, skins, countries, things... different.  EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT.

But remember you can always be a friend.  A friend can be bossy but you don't need to play with he or she.  You can play with another friend.  You have [the] freedom.  You have family time.  Do not let people boss you around.

Spend time with your family.  Have fun.  Have a big smile on your face.

See you soon,

With love, Little Miss Chatterbox

Linking up with:

To All My Blogging Friends

Some of you might have already known about my marital struggles, particularly in the last six months.  However, just like most things in life, there comes a time when you have to make a decision.  It was not a decision that was easy to make, but I believed it was for the best, given what has happened despite efforts from both sides in the last few months.  I have decided to separate from my husband.

To consciously end a twelve year-relationship with someone you love is painful, and to me it feels like a certain death.  For this reason, I hope you would understand that for the next few days (or weeks) I might not be able to blog as I normally would.  Writing has been cathartic to me, and the love and support that I've received from all my friends here in the blogging world have carried me a long way in giving me the much-needed strength and convictions.  But as of right now, I am finding it difficult to write about anything really.

Please know that your friendships mean so much to me, and that it is my sincere hope that you all would still be here when I return.  I'm very much aware that in blogging, you have to give as much as you take.  I apologize beforehand if for the time being I am unable to 'give' as much as I 'take.'  Rest assured, I have not, and will not forget all my blogging friends during my hiatus.

If I may, I'd like to ask you to leave me a note, anything... here in the comments form.  I may or may not reply, I don't know, but for sure I will read it and it will mean SO much to me.  It doesn't matter if you've already commented before, please feel free to come back and leave me a message to let me know that I have not lost your friendship.  Even if it's just to say the same thing all over again.  Know that your words give me the comfort and strength that I very much need to get through this difficult time.

Love,
Sweaty

On Worrying: a Guest-Post by Katie of Chicken Noodle Gravy

My guest today is a dear friend of mine, Katie, who is visiting over from her awesome blog, Chicken Noodle Gravy. She is a talented, yet very humble, writer, who often doesn’t realize how authentic and profound her posts are! 

 

In a post where she explained the origin of her blog name, Katie described herself as “simple, old-fashioned, and cheers you up when you're feeling low,” just like her favorite dish: chicken noodle gravy.  I found myself agreeing with her, especially that last part, because really, Katie is such a sweetheart!  She is kind, supportive, and always let me know in her own way that she's there if I ever need a listening ear.

A food aficionado, she likes to cook and would gladly share her experience in trying to cook the 'perfect' meal.  She wrote about her successful (and failed) attempts in her posts such as Katie's Easy Peasy Mac-n-Cheesy and A Whole Mess of Greens.

Me being severely cooking-challenged, has found one recipe of hers that was truly captivating: the recipe that she put on her blog header:

I part goofy to

II part weird

a cup full of happy

a pinch of sarcasm

plenty of opinions

a dash of southern

mix well and serve with

laughter and wine.

Have I mentioned that Katie is a remarkable writer? :)  THAT recipe was what first drew me in when I came across her blog.  Surely someone who could conceive such a recipe would be nothing short of creative, not afraid to make fun of herself, not to mention well-versed.  And she has not disappointed me!  Katie's every bit of those and more!  Some of my favorite posts of hers:

• A Cage Without a Key
• No Mister Sandman
• The Cathedral
• Paper-Thin Heart

To my delight, Katie has agreed to write a guest-post for Do Sweat the Small Stuff and she is here with us today!  Yay!  I'm ecstatic to be able to share this wonderful gem of a blogger with my readers as well as those who are already her loyal followers.  To Katie, thank you so much for writing this post for ol' Sweaty's blog.  I am very lucky to have you hosting here today, and please know that the pleasure's been all mine.  Take it away, Katie!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 On Worrying

by Katie of Chicken Noodle Gravy

The wildebeest stampede always caught the attention of my diabetic cat.  I would be watching The Lion King for the hundredth time in one day, and it would never fail that she’d stop whatever she was doing (usually either licking her butt or sleeping) and give the scene her full attention.  It was probably all the movement on the screen that caught her eye, but I like to think that she understood the significance of what was happening.

As I was watching The Lion King last night with my two-year old nephew and his entourage (Nana B, Papa, and Nonny), I couldn’t help but remember Kidden when the wildebeest stampede started.  I’m pretty sure that’s why I teared up…it certainly couldn’t be due to the fact that I still get all choked up when Mufasa dies despite the fact that I’ve seen the movie hundreds of times.  Nope, that couldn’t be it at all.

Nevertheless, after this famous stampede scene comes one of my favorite scenes of the movie: the introduction of Timon and Pumbaa and of their Hakuna Matata philosophy, which is where our real story begins.  When trying to think of something to write for a guest post for one of my favorite bloggers, Ms. Sweaty, I struggled.  I wanted to write on a topic that would be interesting and relatable, something that would do Sweaty proud.

The inspiration wasn’t quick in coming, and after staring at the title of Sweaty’s blog for a little bit and upon re-watching The Lion King, I began to worry.  And for once, worrying did me some good.  It gave me the idea for a topic.  Finally.

You see, unlike Timon and Pumbaa (like how I came full circle there?), I’ve long been a worry wart.  I worry over big things, over small things, over insignificant things.  I worry about things that could happen, that probably will never happen, and things that do happen.  You might say I’m a champion worrier, but I’m not quite as skillful a worrier as I once was.

As a teenager, I worried so much that I could barely sleep.  Even as a college student, I did a lion’s share of thinking and dreading and dwelling.  Honestly, I just had a hard time turning off my brain.  Zoning out wasn’t really possible for me, because my mind would be constantly playing out different scenarios and situations.  Sure, it meant that I was a conscientious and caring person, but it also meant that I was a pretty miserable person.  I longed to be impulsive and carefree.  To make decisions that wouldn’t send my neurotic mind into overdrive.  To not give a crap of what others thought of me.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve made that transformation now, that I’ve left all my worrying behind me, but I can’t.  I’m 28 years old and still a card carrying worry wart.  I’m worrying right now about how we’re going to get my husband through school and about my next public speaking stint at work and about what I’m going to cook for dinner tonight.  But despite the fact that I still do worry a little a lot, I have gotten a little better.

I don’t dwell and over-analyze quite as much as I used to, and that’s thanks to, in part, some wise words from my father.  One day we were discussing my worrying ways, and he said something to me that’s stuck.  And I’ve decided to share it with you, in case any of you guys are worriers like me.

He told me to visualize myself standing at the bottom of a hill.  At the top of the hill is a person pushing tires down towards me.  The tires represent my worries.  As the tires begin rolling down the hill, most of them roll off to the side…avoiding me completely.  He said that worries are a lot like those tires, most of what I worry about is never going to hit me, most of what I worry about will never even come to fruition.

For me, it was a comforting thought.

So yeah, I still worry.  A lot.  Far more than my fair share I’m sure.  But now, when I feel overwhelmed with stress and worry, I just imagine myself at the bottom of that hill, and somehow, I feel better.

Not quite Hakuna Matata, but I’ll take it anyway.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pfft!  You've got nothing to worry about there, Katie!  (Teehee, being a master worrier myself, I think I can definitely use the advice that Katie's father gave her).

If you haven't followed her already, I really encourage you to do so.  You can find Katie:
At her blog: Chicken Noodle Gravy http://chickennoodlegravy.com/
On twitter: @chicknoodlegrav

Why I'm Losing My Mind (A Guest Post by Bernie of One Mixed Bag)

Here today, is one of my best bloggy buddies, Bernie.  I came across her blog, One Mixed Bag, not long after I started mine.  This was the first thing that I saw on her site:

And right there and then I knew I was going to like whoever owned that blog.  I mean, how many people would put THAT image as their blog header and badge?  I quickly read her 'About Bernie' page and then a few of her posts.  Instantly I was hooked.

If there is one person whose heart just shines through, overflowing with kindness and sincerity, it's Bernie.  Just read her posts and you'll see what I mean.  No pretense, just honest, straight-forward goodness.  Like me, Bernie likes to write about simple, everyday things.  Reading her posts are like having a sleepover with your bestie where you'd chat the whole night long about nothing and everything, in your comfiest sweatpants, t-shirt, and no bra.  She's funny without even trying, loyal unlike any others, and helpful in ways that always, ALWAYS exceeded my expectations.

Bernie lives in Billings, Montana, with her lovely husband, Mr. Bernie.  They have a dog named Miss Scoobie and three cats: Captain Luke, Abby, and Gwynnie.  She is obsessed with handbags and all things Halloween; hence all her the funky stuff you'd find at her home, like this bloody Kitchen-Aid (which kicks ass, if I may say so myself), her Cabana boy Gunther (whom I'm increasingly fond of), and her amazing Budugalee cards.

There's never a day since I've started blogging that I didn't think of Bernie.  She always made me smile.  So you could imagine how I felt when she agreed to guest-post for me, not once, but twice!  Yes, twice!!  Ecstatic just didn't describe it.  I was completely floored!  So here is the first guest-post from Bernie!  Take it away, Bern...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why I'm Losing My Mind

by Bernie of One Mixed Bag

Hi, Ms. Sweaty's fans.  My name is Bernie from the blog One Mixed Bag.  I adore Ms. Sweaty as I'm sure the rest of you do.  She makes me laugh almost to the point of peeing at times.  She also can tug on my heart strings and make me get a bit teary.  Not to mention all the emotions in between.

When she asked me if I would mind doing a guest post I must admit I was leery.  After all she did one of the most kick ass guest posts, EVER on my blog.  You can read it here.  I really have no way to top that or to even come close.

I'm slowly loosing my mind, which is making writing anything amusing or enlightening difficult.  For some reason I signed up to be in a craft fair.  I don't know what in the hell possessed me.  I'm not a drinker, so I can't claim I was drunk.  I don't do drugs, so I can't claim the drugs made me do it.  I agreed to do this around my "special time of the month."  So maybe it was the Midol and chocolate that clouded my thinking. 

I have only been crafting since January of this year.  It was almost like a dare from another blogger.  I set up my own Etsy shop this summer.  Again, no idea what possessed me.  The shop name is Budugalee.  Say it slowly and out loud.  I'll wait.  Yes, it means exactly how it sounds.  When I got started crafting I was looking for a name.  I told Mr. Bernie, "I know my stuff is going to be Butt Ugly. What should I name it?"  Hence Budugalee was born.  Which is how I ended up doing a craft show.

Its a toss up as to which will cause me to loose my mind first.  The fact I need to get a bunch of cards made, but have no idea how many.  Sitting around watching Judge Judy is not helping to get them done.  Yet, there I sit.  The fact I'm making some cool chalkboard skulls, but don't know how many I need.  I might want to add some other things, but DON"T KNOW HOW MANY I WILL NEED!  Do you see a theme here?



As if that wasn't bad enough, my husband, Mr. Bernie, is helping drive the crazy train.  If he tells me one more time how much money he thinks I should take in on my FIRST ever craft fair, I will lay down and cry or stab him in the eye.  Its a toss up.  When I ask his thoughts on the matter he throws out figures of money.  When I ask about how many items I should have ,he says things like, "Well Bernadette, your banner cost this amount, your booth rental is this amount, blah, blah, blah."  I hate math, so this is not helpful at all.  I want touchy feely ideas of amounts needed.  Heck, I have to bring a calculator to make change for people.  This means I'm not doing a running total in my head of costs.  Mr. Bernie has that covered and reminds me on a semi daily basis my running total.  Such a helper bee.

I figure if someone buys anything, even a card, I will be way ahead.  I will have to refrain from humping their leg in gratitude for buying from my table.  "Oh, thank you so much!! You like me, you really like me!!"  I think it might startle a buyer so I will try not to do that.  It will be in the back of my head.  I want people to like my stuff enough to buy something.  Heck, I'm willing to sell my bra if someone wants it.  Yet, its not homemade and the elastic is saggy, who would want it?  Its not the money, though that is nice.  Its more the idea that I'm a big crafty girl and make ok stuff.

Wish me luck.  Should I survive between now and Saturday, it will be a miracle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You can find Bernie at her blog: One Mixed Bag http://onemixedbag.com/
Or at her One Mixed Bag Facebook Page
And she tweets too: http://twitter.com/#!/OneMixedBag

Milestones and Memories (Guest-Post by Angela of Tiaras and Trucks)

I admit that I have only known Angela for a short-time.  The first time I found her blog, Tiaras and Trucks, was through one of Write on Edge's writing prompts link-up.  What I didn't know at the time was that she is also the Assistant Editor at Write on Edge, as well as a contributing writer at Just Be Enough.

Angela with her two children

One of the first posts that I read in her blog was On Your First Day of School.  If there was such a thing as love at first sight, then that was 'it' for me.  Right there and then I fell in love with Angela's writing.  She wrote that particular post to her daughter, Abbey, the night before Abbey's first day of school.  

I still remembered how I felt the first time I read that post--I have never felt more affected and more emotionally engaged by a single post before.  Perhaps it was because I, too, am a mother to a daughter only a few years older than Abbey.  But I'm quite sure it was Angela's words--every single one of them mirroring my own feelings for my daughter--written so beautifully, that drew me in.  Words I've been wishing to tell my daughter but had never been able to (and probably never could) express so eloquently.

I was nervous to ask Angela to guest-post for my blog at first.  Not only have I just 'met' her, but truth be told, Sweaty is not (yet) a household name.  But I really felt that I had to ask her.  I admired Angela's works, and sincerely thought that my readers and I would not only enjoy, but also learn a lot from her writing.  When she replied and said, "I'd love to guest post at your place," I was blown away by how nice and helpful she was!     

Abbey and Dylan

Here is the guest-post that Angela has written for me.  I can't thank her enough for this!  In it are my favorite subjects, Abbey, Angela's three-and-a-half year old daughter, and Dylan, her one-and-a-half year old son.  She wrote about a moment in her life, ordinary in so many ways, yet made extraordinary by how she brought that experience to life before your very eyes.  

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Milestones and Memories

by Angela of Tiaras and Trucks

It sits on a shelf in Abbey’s closet, its pastel graphics faded, its pages curling, small, square photographs tinged with the slight yellow signature of the early 1980s.  My fingers have slid over the pages countless times; when I recently wanted pictures of my first dance recital and my first day of preschool, I knew exactly where to look.

My baby book.

Neatly, methodically, lovingly penned by my mother, the notations are all in her even penmanship, the ink easily recognized as blue ball-point pen.

Not to be outdone, I eagerly began working in Abbey’s baby books.  That’s correct.

Books.

The first is a beautiful scrapbook, ready for photos and adorable notes about bathtimes and bedtimes and first vacations.  The second is a smaller, thinner version, meant to record dates and milestones.

Together, they sit on a shelf in her closet, close to my aging book.

In the baby basket.

A large, woven basket with a lid, it contains everything that should be in the baby books, including photos and cards and locks of hair and post-it notes hastily scribbled with milestone dates.

Dylan doesn’t have a baby basket.

He has a baby drawer, and even that is woefully unadorned, only a few errant post-its tucked between first birthday cards and hospital bracelets.

Guilt pokes at me when my eyes rest on the baby basket, or when I open the baby drawer to toss in something new.

Will Abbey wonder what gifts she received for her first birthday?

Will Dylan roll his eyes when he realizes I didn’t record when he got his first tooth?

Will I ever sit and organize the post-its and the pictures and tenderly fill the paper pages that now lay empty on her closet shelf?

For now, I can only close my eyes for a moment, and collect memories on my blog, capturing moments that aren’t so easily recorded on a list of milestones.

There’s not a line for the way Dylan carefully holds onto my hand as he walks down the stairs, pausing with both feet on each step and doing an excited little shuffle before walking down to the next.

There’s not a line for the way Abbey turns back to catch my eye and shake her head in exasperation when Ryan misses a word in any of her beloved princess stories.

Nor the way Dylan’s eyes light up when he runs past twenty similar leaves on the ground to choose one specific leaf to show me in delight.

Nor the way Abbey confidently carries my old purse through Costco, pulling out her little notepad to consult her list as we gather items into the cart.

There’s not a line for the healing power of their hugs, the way their ferocious clasps around my neck at night calm my soul better than any run or glass of wine or piece of chocolate.

As they grow older, the exact dates of their first steps may fade in importance, but I can’t imagine the day I won’t cherish the memory of their still-damp after-bath kisses.

If they don’t feel the same?

There’s always the baby basket. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

I think you know now why I fell in love with Angela's writing, right?  She definitely has a way with words, one that allows you to fully experience a range of emotions as you are reading it.  Here are a few recent posts by Angela that are my favorites:

• Mind Games Here she described her struggle to believe in herself while training for her fourth marathon, despite physical and circumstantial limitations.
• Moving Past Regret Again, here Angela wrote about remembering the past and dealing with regrets that came with it.  I could almost 'feel' her mind churning with memories and all the 'what ifs.'
• Slow Down The post that earned her a syndication by BlogHer
• Wrapped in an Afghan  Here she wrote of a memory she would rather forget; I had goosebumps reading it.  

If you have not followed her already, I urge you to do so.  You can find Angela:

• at her lovely blog, Tiaras and Trucks, http://tiaras-and-trucks.blogspot.com/
• tweeting @tiaras_trucks
• at her Facebook Page Tiaras & Trucks on Facebook 
• running, training for marathons, in the Michigan area :) 

The Almost Happy-Ending, by Kir from The Kir Corner

Note: This is a guest-post by Kirsten from The Kir Corner.  If you want to know what I have to say about Kir (!), you can read To Kristen, My Friend, With Love, which serves as a prelude to this post.

The Almost-Happy Ending

“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”

-George Bernard Shaw

We all love a happy ending, don’t we?

You know the classic, boy gets the girl; the crisis is adverted, good trumps evil?

I admit that I am a sucker for that scene myself; the passionate kiss, the sword held high in the air, Rocky yelling for his Adrienne with a bruised and battered face.

Yep gets me. Every. Single. Time.

But here’s the shameful secret about my love affair with the happy ending that I am having a hard time confessing, please lean in a little closer, I also enjoy the conflict that gets us there and I don’t always believe in a happily ever after.

Whew, that was hard.

Now, it’s not that I don’t want to.

As a self proclaimed “hopeless romantic“ I embody all the traits and trappings of a person who would give it all up for love and believe in the magic of a world where mice made my dress, the shoe always fit and the rotten good for nothing villains got what was coming to them.

Yet, time and life has taught me many lessons.

One of my favorite movies, “THE MIRROR HAS TWO FACES” with Barbra Streisand and Jeff Bridges has a scene where Barbra’s character talks about that while the “happily ever after” is the desired ending what happens after you get it?

She explains: “They never tell us about Cinderella’s incessant need to clean the castle, cause she missed her day job.” (Cue the student laughter and my pensive pondering)

See?

How many of us have thought that once Prince Charming rode up, the white dress was worn, the job position was secured or the baby we so desperately wanted was born our life would start?

We would be good, better or for lack of another way to say it, “Happy?”

Once upon a time, long before I met my husband, I fell for a man.

We would have made a perfect romantic comedy.

We had attraction, friendship, sex and even the angst that makes all of it interesting.

One of us would call, the other would not. Jealously was inserted when one or the other decided to branch out, date someone else or simply play the games of love.

Yep, we were one step away from a ticket price.

I loved and hated him and I know that he will always own a piece of my heart because of that simple fact.

See, we never “sweated the small stuff”.

Oh sure we gave plenty of time to the big stuff, the vision each of us had for a life, what we saw in our combined futures and what it was about each other that didn’t fit in that frame.

What we never bothered to look at and ponder was the small stuff; the easy way we were together, the fact that our differences could serve us well in a world of children, jobs and stress; that our chemistry could percolate instead of explode.

We just saw the Big Picture and never looked beyond it.

I’m not saying I wish for that life or that man, quite the contrary, but what I am saying is that if I had gotten the Hollywood ending with him, it would have been a lie, made up, scripted and completely false.

But it probably would have been a box office hit.

That quote at the top of this post popped up on my daily quotes on Saturday.

Exactly when I needed it to remind me that sometimes getting the happy ending you perceive and long for is not the end of the story. It might be just the beginning, it might lead somewhere else, and it might teach you something about yourself that you just never knew.

The Happy Ending is a farce; it’s just a door to another room filled with new obstacles and decisions, a place for more compromises and a boatload of lessons to learn.

But it’s also a place filled with the anticipation of new adventures and the simple and sincere hope that our lives mean something and so do the people in it.

That’s why we pursue it.

Because whether you lose your heart’s desire or a gain it, you will always find that you grow and stretch beyond yourself because of it.

The lesson in it will reveal itself eventually and when it does you find that reality is better than the fairytale and that the kiss is still magical, the sword is still held high and you really are the hero of your own boring, but truly amazing, life.

To Kirsten, My Friend, With Love.

In the short five months that I’ve been blogging, I have come to know amazing individuals, who despite my anonymity and status as a new blogger, were brave and kind enough to offer me their support and friendships. Some comes and goes; but there are also those who, time and time again, prove that they truly care. I am proud to call them my friends.

A lot of blogging has to do with writing, but I believe in the soul that is behind the writing. I’ve been blown away by the skills of many, who wove words so beautifully in their blog posts and comments. But once in a while, I came across a certain individual and found myself deeply affected, inspired, changed by this person.

One of those people is Kirsten, from The Kir Corner.  If you haven’t had the privilege to know her, please, go over to her blog right now, follow her, and make sure you subscribe to her posts.  Trust me, you won’t regret it. You can find the details about her here.

But that’s not what I really want to tell you.

Those of you who are familiar with Kirsten, or Kir, would undoubtedly agree with me that she is like a ray of sunshine on rainy days.  When I first read her posts, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her positivity, her smile and sincerity, and LOVE.  Over time, it continues to be apparent in every single thing that she does.  

Truly, Kir wears her heart on her sleeves, and by doing that, she has touched my life in countless ways she might not be aware of.  THIS is what I want to tell you about Kir.  The gentle and loving soul behind a blog, whom you might or might not ever meet face to face, but would regardless make a lasting mark in your lives.

I couldn’t put it in a better way than what Kir herself wrote in one of her posts, A Soft Place to Land: “… I take in all the smiles, the memories of each one… I only wanted to give them something to be happy about... I take great pride in that…. I love being the soft place for their hearts to land.”

Thank you, Kir, for writing this piece for me. It would always be ‘our’ thing, a treasure stored in the deep recesses of my heart, and one I would take out to showcase and admire from time to time.

Read Kir's guest-post, The Almost Happy Ending, here.

Mouthy, Lips, and Sweaty's Karaoke-O-Rama

So Mouthy and Lips booked us a private room at our favorite karaoke place.  It was our favorite because it was by far the cleanest and most family-friendly karaoke place in town.  Which meant chance encounters of the bimbettes or dickheads kind was highly unlikely.  It also had the most updated song selections and featured a karaoke system that's easy enough for gadget illiterates like us to handle.

The private rooms also came with a rotating disco ball, a set of tambourines (perfect for ABBA songs, by the way), maracas, and a conga.  The bigger rooms even had their own set of drums. Total coolness!!!

Armed with three microphones--that's one each for Mouthy, Lips, and me--we were ready to sing our way through the Billboard chart.

We were so 2011!  We heart: Usher, Will.I.Am, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Glee Cast Volume 1, 2, 3, and 4, B.o.B featuring Hayley Williams, Bruno Mars, Britney Spears, Flo Rida, Eminem, and Rihanna. Who said we couldn't keep up with the tweens, eh?

Worth mentioning was our buddy for the night: an Absolut Vodka called Kurant.  Mixed with sweet ice tea and lots of ice, Kurant tasted quite fantastic.  Before long, Mouthy, Lips, and I were rappin' and struttin', and doing a lot of "Wassup, yo?"  We jumped around and took it another notch with songs by the likes of David Guetta, the Black Eyed Peas, and Akon...

Dootz, dootz, dootz...  I was doing all these moves and dance maneuvers unbeknownst to me under um, more sober circumstances.  I felt dang invincible.  I was on a roll, man!!!

By the third hour, Mouthy suddenly had some kind of tummy ache. All those singing and screaming were making her gassy.  Lips went mellow and started doing doleful ballads like "Crazy" by Aerosmith and "If You're Not the One" by Daniel Beddingfield.  What the fug, Lips?!?  And as for me, I was getting increasingly annoyed at my overactive bladder.  I guess all those Kurant + sweet iced tea I guzzled down earlier were starting to mess around with my bladder.

I guess you could take the girl out of the 80s but you can't take the 80s out of the girl.  By the end of the night we were singing songs by Peter Cetera (when he was still the long perma-haired lead singer of Chicago), Debbie Gibson, Tommy Page (please don't ask), Air Supply, and Guns' N Roses.  We were back to being teens, to the time when first loves and heartbreaks reigned.  Every verse was memorable, pregnant with nostalgic memories and remembrance.  Heck, I even shed some tears.  What a wuzz.

Tired but not really eager to go home, Mouthy, Lips, and I decided to grab late-night/early-morning supper before calling it a day.  We drove to a nearby 24 hours coffee-shop where we splurged on comfort food.  Just for that moment, we'd like to forget about diets and muffin-tops.  We chatted about nothings, giggled over juicy gossips, and laughed at unfunny jokes.

By the time we each got home, it was around 5 a.m.  I could hardly keep my eyes open.  As my head hit the pillow, I realized that deep down I still had this wound that needed to be patched up.  I know that it was still there, but at least it's a little bit more numb now.  I had fun, so I considered it a successful night.  Granted, I was also too exhausted to think about basically anything at that point.  Oh well, I'll deal with it one way or another...

Thanks, Mouthy and Lips.  You girls were the best.

P.S: Here are some songs to take you down the memory lane... Cross my heart hope to die, I promise I'm not gonna tell anyone, ok?

With Friends Like These...

Growing up as an only child, having close friends whom I can trust and share with is extremely important to me.  My mother was never the motherly type.  I don't doubt how much she loves me, but I find that whenever I talk to her, I always steered clear of mentioning anything that might worry her.  I want her to see me as strong and able--a survivor.

Oh, I have no problem sharing with my friends when it comes to these emotions: joy, love, surprise, anger, fear, even embarrassment (uh huh, you've read my other posts, right?).  I'm not a closed-up person when it comes to friendships.  What you see is what you get.   

When it comes to expressing or sharing sadness though, it's a totally different story.

Perhaps because I grew up being an only child?  Or because I was raised by the type of mother who was not big on expressing emotions?  Whatever it is, of all the things I suck at, if I must choose one, it would be my inability to share my own sad feelings with anyone other than myself. 

Instead of seeking others' company or advice, I would go into a hiding mode, where I would ponder over things quietly in my head, cry, and then somehow work myself into feeling normal again.  As you could probably predict, more often than not, whatever the issues were was never really resolved.

What about therapists?  Well, I've tried.  Unfortunately, not even a therapist can make me talk about sad things.  I would just babble on about other things, making jokes and laughing my ass off, all the while avoiding the reason why I came in the first place.  Before you know it, the session would have ended, the therapist would have this big grin from having laughed so much, and I would leave without mentioning anything that would indicate the sad mess that was in my head.

But today... today I am sad.  Predictably, my mind blanked out when I tried to write down how I feel.  Couldn't elaborate.

So what do I do at a time such as this?  I called up my buddies, Mrs. Mouthy and Ms. Lips.  I told them I needed a distraction.  I need to drown my sorrow with some alchy and loud music.  Anything that would beat the shit out of whatever it is that's in my head right now.  I need to force myself to feel "normal" again.  Bitchy, I can do.  Psycho, even better.  Pathetic, helpless chick hag?  SO not me.

As always, Mrs. Mouthy and Ms. Lips didn't disappoint.  No questions ask, they agreed to a night out.  We aimed high, with plans to go clubbing and partied like college girls on their spring break.  A quick glance into the mirror sobered us up though.  So we decided to tone-down it a few notches to... going karaoke!.  So folks, that's where I'm going tonight!  Mrs. Mouthy, Ms. Lips, and me, Sweaty.

So I bid you good day for now.  I WILL BE BACK. 

Against Online Bullying - The Mom Pledge

The Mom Pledge

I am a proud Mommy Blogger. I will conduct myself with integrity in all my blogging activities. I can lead by example.

I pledge to treat my fellow moms with respect. I will acknowledge that there is no one, "right" way to be a good Mom. Each woman makes the choices best for her family.

I believe a healthy dialogue on important issues is a good thing. I will welcome differing opinions when offered in a respectful, non-judgmental manner. And will treat those who do so in kind.

I stand up against online bullying. My blog is my space. I will not tolerate comments that are rude, condescending or disrespectful.

I refuse to give those who attack a platform. I will remove their remarks from my blog with no mention or response. I can take control.

I want to see moms work together to build one another up, not tear each other down. Words can be used as weapons. I will not engage in that behavior.

I affirm that we are a community. As a member, I will strive to foster goodwill among moms. Together, we can make a difference.

As a child, I was raised to have good social manners, to have confidence in my abilities, a balanced awareness of my own limitations, and open-mindedness to others’ opinions and beliefs.  Growing up, I've learned to differentiate what is right from what is wrong.  All these experiences--the combination of my upbringing, social interactions, and education--eventually form to become a part of my self-identity.  They help define who I am as person, how I conduct my behavior, and how I respond to life in general.  When these moral values and personal beliefs are manifested positively and consistently in all aspects of an individual's life, that person can be described as having "integrity."  To be a person with integrity is one of the things that I strive for in life.

It is only natural that each person would develop different beliefs and ways of living that are specific to his or her own experiences growing up.  The same applies to parenting styles.  With the exception of cases involving abuse (physical, psychological, or sexual) or threat to a child’s safety, I am aware that each mother might have different opinions regarding what’s best for her child, depending on her personal beliefs and values, and her firsthand knowledge of her child. 

The Mom Pledge makes it possible for mothers of different backgrounds, lifestyles and religious beliefs to share and exchange information about their family lives (parenting style included) in a manner that is supportive, unobtrusive, considerate, and non-judgmental.  By taking the Pledge, I am reaffirming my belief that each mother is entitled to raise her own child to the best of her ability and in ways that she deems fitting.  

I’m very fortunate to have come across so many amazing, incredibly thoughtful and well-written blogs during my short time as a blogger.  These are all blogs that are fun, insightful, humorous, and entertaining.  Oh, mommies being mommies, there are times when they are serious, and there are also times when they let loose, use “four-letter” words, and joke about things that are far from prim and proper.  But even then, it is clear to me that all these blogs have “integrity,” and not surprisingly, they all have taken the Mom Pledge.

I have not experienced bullying firsthand, but I’ve seen some rude and offensive comments directed at other bloggers.  Those are not comments that merely voice a different opinion or constructive criticism.  It was clear that they were intended to attack and insult the author of the post.  It’s easy to spot online bullying because they are so offensive and disrespectful in nature; however, it is not as easy to identify the perpetrator because they almost always hide behind their anonymity.  In all of those cases  I mentioned, the blog owners simply ignore the comment and move on to address the rest.  From what I’ve seen so far, it did silence the bully, because whoever it was did not continue with any more negative comments.  

I must admit that my natural response would be to at least defend myself against the said bully.  However, by taking the Pledge, I have also committed to eradicate online bullying by silencing them, therefore giving the perpetrator absolutely nothing to go on with.  I have seen, as in the cases I mentioned above, how the Pledge worked: all the blog owners chose to ignore the comment, and the bully was in fact silenced.  And then there is strength in numbers.  With more and more bloggers joining the Mom Pledge Community, we are the majority.  With nothing to feed on, the bulllies will wither and hopefully disappear for good.  

I have not had the chance to participate in the Mom Pledge Community so far, having just started my blog and taken the Pledge.  However, many of the blogs I have come across and made friends with are owned by mothers who have taken the Pledge.  As I’m making my first small steps into the Bloggy World, I’ve learnt that as in any culture, there are many unwritten rules that bloggers abide to as they interact with each other.  One thing I am sure of though, that by taking the Pledge and becoming a part of the Mom Pledge Community, it is a step in the right direction.

You too can take the Pledge and join other mom bloggers fight against online bullying.  Click on the Pledge button above and sign up now!

Hurrayyy! It's My First (Ever) Blog Award

Have you ever seen one of Patek Philippe's "Generations" Ad Campaigns?  My husband totally bought the whole father-son, mother-daughter marketing gimmick, getting teary-eyed whenever he came across one of those ads.  As for me, I'm mostly waiting for my husband to move on from just getting teary-eyed, to actually GETTING the watch for my birthday present.  So far, I'm still waiting.  Anyway, the ads always have this message written on them: "You never actually own a Patek Philippe.  You merely look after it for the next generation."  


Which brings me to this happy news.  I won an award today!!!  It's called the Versatile Blogger award!  Whoever created the Versatile Blogger award must have been inspired by those Patek Philippe's ads, because later on, I found out that this award was "passed" to me so that afterward I can pass it again to other blogs I've recently discovered.  This is what it looks like:

Fittingly, this Versatile Blogger Award was given to me by a VERY versatile blogger herself.  One whose daily accomplishments alone equals to my 5 year-plans.  She is a new, yet already dear-to-my-heart, mommy blogger named Janice.

In her blog "The (not so) Special Mother," she writes her life as a wife, a mother of two, and a granddaughter.  She is also a homeschool mom, a mother to a special-needs child, and a primary caregiver to her disabled sister.  If that wasn't enough to put me to shame, she still has time to go hiking, camping, traveling, and dining out, and reads literature and poetry.  Oh, and I have a feeling that one day she will somehow find a way to resume her studies in Wildlife Biology and finished her degree.

So why the heck did someone like Janice passed the Versatile Blogger award to me?  Beats me.  But I AM happy to have this award, and I AM glad that (at least) Janice thinks I deserve it.  Coming from someone like her, hell yeah, I'm proud to be called a Versatile Blogger!  If you haven't gotten the chance to know Janice, please visit her blog "The (not so) Special Mother."  She really is a living, breathing Supermom!

Since it is now my turn to pass on "the Versatile Blogger" award, I'm also passing the rules for accepting this award:

• Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to their site in your original post.
• Tell us seven things about yourself.
• Pass along the award to fifteen newly discovered bloggers.
• Contact these bloggers and let them know they got this award.

So here are my seven things that I would never have told you if it weren't because I'm greedy and I wanted this award!!!

1. I was named after a former empress who went into exile in 1979.  So yeah, as far as first role models go, I'm pretty much doomed from the start.
2. I used to wear prescription glasses up to five years ago, when a lasik surgery cured me of my near-sightedness, but not my nerdiness.
3. I love romance stories where the hero is good looking, yet the heroine is not.  You can call me a traitor to feminism all you want, but I like the idea that even if you're less than average in the looks department, you still have a shot at nailing a Brad Pitt-lookalike.
4. I was still in another relationship when I started dating my husband. OMG I can't believe I just told you that! I've managed to keep that little fact from my husband all these years! 
5. I have botanophobia (fear of plants).  The thought of touching them freaks me out, and I absolutely cannot eat or drink next to one.
6. On the night before my wedding day, my bridezilla-ness hit a new, all time record-breaking high.  My wedding planner decided she's had enough and finally knocked me out with a handful of valiums.
7. I drool while I sleep. Bucketful. No kidding.

And hereby I am passing the Versatile Blogger award to the following 15 blogs, obviously for this reason:  They're AWESOME!

1. Partly Sunny, Chance of Rain Tammy is the genius behind World's Worst Mom, a blog where you can read about other moms' less-than-perfect moments and feel better about yourself.  It's like free therapy!!
2. My 3 Little Birds  Her posts are always interesting and very insightful.
3. Moms in Venting  I love Glynis.  Her blog makes venting so much fun! 
4. Manic Mother  I will always be grateful to her.  I learned a lot about blogging just from reading her blog.
5. Two Kids and a Fish  A mother with a BIG heart.  Read her post My Kid's Best Friend is a Psychic.  I cried reading that post.
6. Single Dad Laughing  I never thought I'd say this, but this is one Dad who's doing a much better job at being a mom than me.
7. My Mummy Daze  I consider her blog my "next-door-mom" blog.  She blogs about stuff that I've always wanted to blog about.
8. Danielle Moss//The Blog  I love her designs... she's my web designer who had to deal with the worst sides of me (like changing my mind for like the thousandth time), and yet is still willing to help out. 
9. Momalog I always enjoyed reading Ado's posts... She writes so well (and I notice, so fast!).  Her posts always have the right mix of insight, humor, and candor.
10. Whimsy and Whirl by Tenesia  I've never met Tenesia in person, but I have a feeling that if I ever need a partner in crime, this is one mommy who's not gonna let me down.
11. Thoughts from this Mom... When you read her blog, you just can't help but like her!
12. 1 FUNKY WOMAN  Yes, I think she's one funky woman. A very wholesome blog. One thing though, until now I still don't know how to turn the background music she has on--not because I don't like it, but because I can't listen to music and read other people's blog at the same time. **UPDATE: Megan was sweet enough to send me a user-friendly instruction on how to turn off the music on her blog. So now I'm an expert on how to turn her blog's music on and off.  Thanks, Megan!
13. Absolutely Narcissism I absolutely love her narcissism!  Her posts are hilarious.
14. Mrs. No-No Knows This highly creative mommy's posts always make me: 1) hungry; 2) wish I can cook; 3) hope that my husband never finds out that there is such a wife as Mrs. No-No.
15. Sanity's Overrated A fellow book lover who writes beautifully and honestly about her family and the many facets of herself. 

Hurray to me!  And now I'm gonna be spending the next few hours contacting each one of the 15 blog owners I mentioned above...