A Note From Your Resident Fatty

Hi, I'm fat.  I am, and that's okay.  Now here's what you shouldn't do when you read that:



via GIPHY

I mean, thanks Padalecki, I am but don't do that.  That doesn't help anyone feel better but you, for real.
Here is the truth.  I'm a person, I'm fat right now.  Sometimes in my life I've been skinny.  Sometimes in my life I've been in the middle.  Right now I'm fat.
When I was skinny I wasn't a better person.  In fact, I might have been a sad person because I could only think about what I would eat on my cheat day.  Sometimes I felt great, when I acheived goals that I had never been able to do  before (like running my first 5K, for instance, but I wasn't skinny then-I was in-between) and when I learned how much I liked lifting weights.  Those were all important things to me.
Sometimes I'm more active than others.  Sometimes I work out more than other times.  Sometimes I lose weight, sometimes I gain weight, sometimes I love my body and sometimes I hate my body.  I have hated my body when i was skinny and I have hated my body when I was fat.  I have loved my body when I was skinny and when I was fat.  I've had eating disorders (like convincing myself that my food was growing mold on it and I couldn't eat any more when I was in high school- I didn't realize how messed up that was until years later when I read about a character with a severe eating disorder doing the same thing)  I've done extreme exercise programs and eat completely clean.  I've done extreme diets (the Whole 30 anyone?)  I've binged on chips (yum) and pizza (yum) and beer (yum) and wine (yum).  I've done it all.
So:  What are you thinking right now?   Do you feel sorry for me that I can't get it together?  Well, don't worry about it.  I don't feel bad for me at all.  I feel great.  Here's what I've realized:  Even if I lose weight I will always be a fat person.  I love bad food.  I love being sedentary.  I also love working out -right now I'm working out more than I have in a while, but not because I hate myself.  Now it's because I love this body and love seeing what I can do.  I also have more time, older kids, I work outside the home, and I really want to spend an hour a day doing something for myself.  However, this doesn't mean that I don't sometimes feel bad (don't we all?) or mad that I can't do something (don't we all?)
This also means that I have been thinking about how to describe my body to my daughters.  They are 7 and 11 and are starting to get body aware.  Should I say I'm fat?  Should I say I want to work out in front of them?  How do I keep them from getting into that "Fat is bad" mindset?  I want them to be healthy, but I don't want them to hate what their body does.  So, here's what I've stopped doing.  I tell them when I have frustrations with my body.  If I can't do something or I don't fit in something or really any situation.  I just don't assign a judgement to it.  Saying I'm fat isn't a judgement on me, as long as I don't mean it in a derogatory way.  It's no different than saying I have blue eyes or big boobs (which, honestly, the boobs are more of a problem than a fat butt most of the time).  I explain that we all have challenges, and that's it.
Here's what you shouldn't do for your fat friend/family member/co-worker:

1. Tell them that they're fat (you probably wouldn't use that word, but you know how you'd say it).  I guarantee you they already know.  It's impossible for them to not know that they're fat because they watch TV, look at magazines, and just generally are self aware.  
2. Think that you need to "save" them.  Fat people are not rescue animals.  Do you have something that you don't like about yourself (or something that you're just sick of hearing about from well-meaning people?)  Well, imagine if your family or friends constantly were trying to fix you.  If they say they want to do something or want your help, offer it.  See point #1.  They know they're fat. 
3. Tell them they should stay away from certain clothes because of their body type.  Honestly, do I need to say it again?  See #1.  Your loved one or family member is really trying their best to find flattering clothes, just like you do.  I guarantee whatever criticism you have for them they have already thought at some point in their life.
4. Don't be offended for them if they point out in a matter of fact way that they are fat and it's okay.  It really is.  Health and fitness comes in all shapes and sizes.
 

Here's what you should do: love them.  Love yourself.   Eat a salad, eat a damn piece of pizza, lift weights, (by the way-because of my big booty I am a BEAST when it comes to leg presses).  Celebrate your friend or loved one because they are a great person.  You don't love them in spite of their butt size, you love them because they add value to your life. Most of all, don't be afraid to say the word "fat."  Fat is not a bad word.  Let's not have another generation of girls be afraid of that word or their body shape or big muscles or doing math.  Let's just be. 

Why Bernie? I am a woman, after all.

Why does the media keep saying that this race is about anger for Liberals?  This race is about HOPE!  Hope that we can create a future for our children that doesn't include unreasonable debt from college, hope that our political system will work for most of us, hope that we can all start to afford to go to the doctor again (apart from preventative care-thank you ObamaCare!)

We are angry at a system that has let us all down, but full of hope for the real, approachable, hard working, caring and principled candidate who has promised to get things done for US!  We voted for Barack Obama and love what he has started.  We are not angry at him.  (That's the other guys-they really hate him)  We just acknowledge that there is still so much more work to be done.  This is not a time for half measures.  This is a time to push boldly forward and make serious changes.  This is a time of hope and hard work.  Please, stop playing Bernie's appeal as just being about anger and playing his message as a message of anger.  Bernie is inspiring us, bringing people out to vote who have never voted before-and are ready to be a part of a fascinating and exciting process.  We are the ones who choose our government-we need to choose who best represents our principles.

Remember, we are not choosing out of fear or anger, but out of hope and a feeling of responsibility for the future.  We believe that government is there to HELP people.  We believe in the separation of church and state.  We believe in human rights.  #feelthebern #hope #BernieSanders

Watching 50 Shades of Grey....Gray? Here are 80 thoughts I had while watching.

It doesn't really matter.
I've had a few glasses of wine and now have decided to watch 50 Shades of Grey...Gray...shit.  I should probably know that.
Here are my thoughts.
1.  Ha!  Anastasia Steele just bit her lip!  Is Dakota Johnson trying to make this a Twilight parody already?  Is that an homage to Kristin Stewart's excellent lip biting skills?
2.  What's my Google password?  I want to write a blog entry...or live tweet...but I haven't written a blog entry in a long time so I'll do that but I can't remember my password...there...changed it.  Hope I can remember it tomorrow!
3.  Oh look, everyone who works at Grey (Gray?) House is dressed in...you guessed it...GRAY.  Fucking fantastic.  I get it.  Grey.Gray. I don't know if I can make it through this movie.
4.  OOps...Anastasia fell into his office.  I get it.  She didn't do anything really embarrassing, though.  She should have farted really loud when she fell...or started crying...then a snot bubble...not that anything like that has ever happened to me.
5.Oh I exercise Control in all things Miss Steele...uh...okay...
6.  Is Christian Grey supposed to be Donald Trump?
7.  If a guy tells you he "enjoys various physical pursuits" when you ask what he does for fun he definitely hunts people for sport.
8.Oh, now he walked around the desk and asked her if she has an actual question!
9.  Are you GAY?  ARE YOU KIDDING?
10.  Oh, hot blonde assistant just interrupted...now he has made it known that he wants more Steele and wants to know about her literary preferences?  Whew!  HAWT!
11.  Now he offered her an internship!  But she says she's not hot enough...and asked her if she got everything she needed...
12.  LOL she walks outside in the rain and instantly gets DRENCHED and is breathless...not a lot of mystery as to what is going on there.
13.  She describes him as "clean" to her room mate.  Weird.  Roommate knows Anastasia wants to bone Christian.
14.  27 years old!  WTF!  No way.
15.  Ooh, she's rubbing the Grey pencil on her lips!!!!
16.  WTF the guy who plays not-Jacob (art show guy-Jose) has a receeding hairline and looks at least 15 years older than her.
17.  She works in a hardware store...and Christian Grey appears.  oh, of course he wants cable ties, rope and tape.  probably a shovel and tarp.  Girls love shady billionaires and love making jokes about being a serial killer.
18.  This is a creepy interaction.  She recommends coveralls to protect his clothes...and he suggests not wearing clothes.  If someone said that to me at work I would barf all over them.
19.  Oh, it's a photo shoot and the gangs all here!  He keeps staring at her!   Wants to take her for coffee!  Definitely doesn't want to skin her and wear her skin like a suit!
20.  Why am I watching this?  It's horrible.
21.  I fucking hate this guy "I'm used to getting my own way."  Fuck you, asshat.
22.  Oh, Anastasia considers herself a romantic.  I guess that means that romantics like creepy assholes who want to wear their skin.
23.  "I'm not the man for you"  Oh, yeah, you're right.  You're a creep.  KBye.
24.  WOWWWWEEEEE First edition books from you're creepy coffee date who you just helped pick out MURDER TOOLS!  WTF is wrong with you, Anastasia?
25.  Waiting in line for the ladies room is the worst.  How old is her crappy ass phone?  He has an IPhone and she has a StarTac?  She's drunk dialing him...he's asking weird about her drinking.  But he's drinking wine...DUDE YOU WENT OUT FOR COFFEE.  She is not your girlfriend.  He traced her call?  This should really be a horror movie!  This is terrifying!
26.  Lol.  Jose tried to kiss her.  She said no.  She should have said "No way, Jose."  I would have.
27.  Oh, look!  She spent the night in his apartment and didn't wake up tied to a post with knives shoved in her body.
28.  "Necrophilia's not my thing" when she asks if he raped her unconscious body.
29.  "If you were mine you  wouldn't be able to sit down for a week" then he bites her toast.  You never bite my toast and certainly never threaten butt pain but definitely don't take my food.
30.  "My tastes are very singular"  "Enlighten me, then" reminds me of a conversation I had about cheesecake once.
31.  "I'm not going to touch you-not until I have your written consent" Um....what?
32.  "Fuck the paperwork" I hear you, Christian, I hate paperwork, too.
33.  "Laters, baby?"  What is that?  She is an ENGLISH major!  How could she let that go?
34.  Meanwhile, back at the hardware store... she gets picked up by the way hunkier chauffeur who hasn't threatened to bite her or make her butt hurt or eaten her toast.
35.  Now we're in a helicopter.  Oh yeah, move that joystick, Christian...
36.  Now we're in his penthouse apartment. ...Aaaaand he's making her sign a non-disclosure agreement...totally normal for a first date.
37.  He doesn't make love.  You know what he does.  He fucks.
38.  His playroom.
39.  He has a really nice couch in there, though.
40.  Every good romance really starts with stringent contract negotiations.
41.  Oh fuck...she's still a virgin.  Did he really just ask her if she's done "other things?"
42.  uh...so now they're having sex because he wants her first experience to not be with whips?  I'm still creeped out by this whole thing.  He's playing the piano now!  Now they're going to hump again.
43.  Now it's morning and she's wearing his shirt, a messy bun and making pancakes.  k.
44.Oh jesus.  Mom's name is Grace Grey?  This is infuriating.
45.  ANASTASIA YOUR ROOM HAS A MURAL WITH  A BIRD IN A CAGE!  GET A CLUE!
46.  "Be my submissive I will be devoted to you." Oh, okay.  Totally a normal convo.
47.  He pulls off onto a deserted road "Let's go for a walk" um...NO.
48.    NO MORE WITH THE LATERS BABY!
49.  The roommate can smell the sex on her.  Girls can do that.
50.  They're DM-ing.  Do you think they're Facebook friends?
51.  Are we really going to read a contract now?  Here's the rundown:
        We fuck when and where I want.
         You eat and exercise when I think it's okay.
          I will tell you who you can hang around and what you do with them
          I will choose your safeword because you are an idiot who can't think of anything.
52.  Don't mess around with Christian Grey and threaten to break up with him because he'll do somethig super romantic like break into your apartment, tie you up and have sex with you.  Then he'll drink white wine while you lay aroud cold, naked and blindfolded.  And put ice in your belly button because that's a thing, I guess.
53.  Contract negotiations get plucky, quirky music.  So, Anastasia is ok with lots of things but fisting ain't one!  No genital clamps, either.  Oh and now he's going to take her on a date once a week!  Add it into appendix five!
54.  "Why do I think you're telling me goodbye"  "Because I'm leaving"  oh....the dialog is so painful.  PAINFUL!!!!!
55.  This movie makes me feel like I want to bash my brains in with a hammer.  WHY CAN'T I STOP????
56.  I don't like this punishing thing.  oh, not that he's spanked her for rolling her eyes he's just going to leave and go back to work?
57.  Mom calls and they have a not-talk (that's when you pretend nothing's wrong and you are not being kept by a crazy weirdo while your mom chugs wine)
58.I want to take you to my playroom.  Creepy sentence coming from a clearly at least 35 year old but pretending to be 27 year old man.
59.  OH HE IS AN UDERWEAR SNIFFER!!!!!  Are there any female underwear sniffers out there?  Who would want to sniff dude drawers?  I honestly can't think of one guy that makes me want to sniff his undies.
60.  Now they're at dinner at his parents house and he's furious that she's friends with good old "No Way, Jose" and is going to visit her mother.  He is bad news.  This is like a really racy afterschool special about abusive relationships.
61.  "Let me touch you!" she says.  Ugggghhhhhhhh......
62.  Oh, now it all makes sense...he's an asshole because he had a rough start in life.  Mommy was a crack addict and a prostitute.  Throw in webbed feet and he's doctor evil!
63.  Thank God there's only 28 minutes left in this movie...but who's counting?
64.  Mom and stepdad look surprisingly young.  Now Anastasia's listening to her mom get porked in the other room.  Wholesome family fun for everyone.
65.  Anastasia's getting drunk with her mom at a bar and Christian shows up.
66.  Now it's the next day and they're getting in a weird plane...glider, I guess...He just introduced Anastasia as his girlfriend.
67.  Surprise!  Now he's being an asshole again!  Nobody is surprised at all.
68.  For someone who's not supposed to drink she sure drinks a lot.
69.  She's home.  he's yelling into the phone like a VERY IMPORTANT PERSON.  Now get to the playroom.....STAT!
70.  Oh God is it over yet?  No?  Still 20 minutes?  I should have picked out a safe word before I starting this shit show.
71.  Maybe the 20 minutes remaining includes the credits.
72.  What does Escala mean?  That is the title of his building.  Scale?  Does he have psoriasis?
73.  Why does he play the piano after sex/beating sessions?  Why does she want to talk to him?
74.  You know what this movie needs?   The doorbell needs to ring and the singing telegram girl from Clue needs to be singing her little ditty.  That would break up the monotony of this sad, sad situation.
75.  Now we're back in the playroom and he's really just being a dick about this whole bondage thing.  76.  Now she's mad.  Her butt hurts.  She's crying.  It's a dark and stormy night....
77.  Now he's apologizing.  Blah blah blah I'm so damaged, We love each other, we're so wrong for each other.
78.  I guess they're breaking up because she doesn't like being beaten within an inch of her life.
79.  She totally has Stockholm syndrome and is completely obsessed with this horrible guy.  No one can move on but she's definitely doing a better job.  He's a wreck.
80.  It's over!  IT'S OVER!!!!  I MADE IT!

Here's the takeaway points:  50 Shades of Grey is a study of what you would let a hot billionaire do to you.  Basically, how much spanking would you let happen if you could ride First Class and get a free car?
       

The Truth about Planned Parenthood

Recently, an aquaintance of mine on Facebook shared an infographic about Planned Parenthood that included information about Planned Parenthood not providing mammogram services directly to patients so, therefore, Planned Parenthood is irrelevant and should be de-funded.  This is an ongoing campaign by religious, anti-choice groups to limit women's access to family planning services and, ultimately, deny us our right to decide whether or not to carry a pregnancy (or to even choose to have sex without pregnancy).

Get More: Comedy Central,Funny Videos,Funny TV Shows

There are several reasons why these arguments really annoy me.  I am a firm believer in personal choice, in a woman's right to choose, and in the freedom to decide why, when, and with whom I have a baby.  I have two daughters.  I want them to have choices about their bodies and reproduction.  I also have first hand experience with Planned Parenthood so I thought this would be a good place to share my experience.

I'm sure that's just a coincidence, though.  

When I was in high school, I still attended a medical practice with my family pediatrician.  He was a really nice guy.  He was middle aged, wore a bow tie, my mom and sister also went to this family practice.  He was a man.   I was 16 years old.  I had a lot of questions.  My mom suggested that I had reached a certain age.  No, not that age, I had reached the age when a girl gets her first Pap Smear.  I did not want him between my legs.


For those of you who haven't had a Pap, let me give you the run down.  It's a super intimate procedure that is treated with no ceremony.  You are brought into a room, told to strip and put on a paper gown (backless, really fashionable).  Keep in mind that at 16 you have basically been told all your life to keep your clothes on, to not let anyone anywhere NEAR your vagina, and certainly not to let strangers poke around in it.

After a few minutes  of sitting on the exam table, uneasily, trying to look through a magazine, but really stealing glances at the stirriups hanging off the end (and thinking that this bed suddenly looks like a torture device) the doctor knocks on the door and comes in.  I have always had female doctors for this particular exam.  I think that ladies understand that it is inherently uncomfortable, and try to get through it as gently, but quickly as possible.  The doctor sits by your feet and you quickly realize that your crotch is going to be all that she sees for the next however-long-it-takes. The doctor encourages you to lay down, put your feet in the stirrups, and slide your butt to the edge of the table.  Then you are told to relax, spread your legs, and you usually get asked about the weather as a speculum (metal torture device) is inserted into your vagina, ratcheted open, then a swab is inserted into the speculum where it scrapes your cervix so that tests can be done.  Next, the speculum snaps closed, is pulled out of you (and OH GOD, it looks HUGE the first time- I think I actually gasped and asked the doctor if she really "put that in there") and you usually get a breast exam while you talk about school or work or something mundane.

Looks like....fun?

That is a standard annual exam.  It is not a fun exam, it's not sexy, it's uncomfortable for everyone.  However, as a teen going to Planned Parenthood for my first exam, I was terrified.  I turned 16 in 1996, and there were reports daily on the news of abortion clinic protests, providers being shot, etc.  I thought I'd be pulling in to a parking lot full of raving anti abortion protesters, waving signs and calling me a whore.  When I arrived at the building to find a perfectly mundane medical practice I was shocked that it looked like any other doctor's office.  There was no one protesting.  I walked up the stairs, went to reception and got my check in paperwork, filled it out, and waited for my name to be called.  I had checked the boxes for "annual exam" and "birth control" and my heart was in my throat.

The nurse called my name, weighed me, took me into the exam room, and I got ready for the exam.  During the exam the doctor talked to me about the weather, where I went to school, what I did for activities, etc.
Here are some things that did not happen:  She never once asked me if I wanted to have an abortion.   She never asked if I wanted to sell my future children on the black market.  She didn't offer to make me a part of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin mens rights and force all women to end their pregnancies.
She talked to me like a person, asked if I had any questions, and invited me to get dressed and she'd be back to talk to me about birth control options.


After I got dressed, she re-entered the room and went over the birth control options with me.  I had already discussed the choices with my mom at home, so I was pretty sure that the pill was for me.  She gave me a prescription and a packet of pills, I went to the front desk, paid my bill, grabbed my free condoms out of the fish bowl (who doesn't take free stuff when it's offered?) and left.

True Story.

It was empowering.  I felt like I had done something important (and kind of weird) but I had taken control.  Even then, I felt like I was a part of a quiet revolution for being a part of the Planned Parenthood family.  I felt like I was connected to the struggle for womens rights in a small way.  I felt a little confused about the exam, but proud of myself for taking this step.

in the nearly 20 years since then, I have had nearly 20 annual exams.  Some were at Planned Parenthood, some were are Women's Health Centers in local hospitals.  Most recently, they were at my OB/GYN's ofice.  Nothing has changed in the procedure (except that I know my current OB/GYN and have for about 10 years).  The only difference between my experience at Planned Parenthood and my OB/GYN's office was the decoration on the ceiling above the exam table.   (Planned Parenthood had a poster of a kit flying, my OB/GYN's office has a mobile hung from the ceiling).  They all have those damn stirrups.  Somehow keeping my socks on makes the whole process seem dirtier, but you always leave your socks on.

I think I should get one of these for the summer house.

Planned Parenthood provides much more than abortions (actually only 3% of the services they provide AND they can't use any federal money to pay for those abortions.) See the infographic below to see what they provide most.  They provide a safe space for women and girls to get medical advice and services.  They provide a caring, professional atmosphere for those medical services.  They provide a place for girls and women to be empowered and start making choices about their own bodies.  I stand with Planned Parenthood.

If you want more information, click this link.

To find your nearest Planned Parenthood, click here

Destined for Greatness

I've done it.  I'm a-freaking-mazing. I am riding high and can't stop!  This story is good, so settle in, get comfy, and get ready for the ride of your life.
It all started in June of 1979 when I was just a fetus in my mother's womb.  I knew that place was pretty sweet, but wasn't a place for a mover and shaker like me, so in March of 1980 I broke out.  I was born in a military hospital in Sicily, the first child, and went home, screaming, with my parents.  Right from the beginning, I'm told that my head had to be held up so I could look around.  I was destined for greatness.

#tbt to Christmas, 1980. It's me!!! Look at that flawless hair, Brown carpet and "wood"paneling! #toofabulousforyou #80sbaby #80schic. #nofilterneeded

A photo posted by @kristens6102 on May 21, 2015 at 5:41pm PDT

I grew up in a single parent home.  My mom raised me and my sister alone stating shortly after my sister was born.  Our mom was and still is a tough lady.  When I think back on my childhood, I inevitably picture my mom looking at a product, thinking about fixing something, etc. and can hear her saying "I can do that!"  There was never a question about it.  She worked full time, took care of us, made Barbie clothes, made us poodle skirts, mowed the lawn, fixed the car...you name it, she did it.  She did it out of necessity but she also did it because she could.  I loved watching her start and complete projects.  My inner feminist was awakened-and I still always hear that voice "Hey-I can do that!" when something needs to be done.

Happy Mother's day!!!

A photo posted by @kristens6102 on May 10, 2015 at 7:06am PDT

Over the years I've dabbled in fixin'.  I mostly have left things to my husband but his schedule is prohibitive and I actually want him to spend time with our daughters when he's home.  Some of it was out of financial need (like re-attaching my van's exhaust to the frame with a kit I bought at NAPA and a coat hanger) and some, like the tale I'm leading up to, were out of stubbornness, a will to DIY, and the availability of YouTube "how to" videos.  Sorry for so much Clarkson-it was the first comparison my husband drew between how amazing I am at fixing things.

The first fix I attempted was our dishwasher.  This was a few months ago and, when I'd try to start it the thing would make a weird sound then not turn on.  I searched online and found that it was probably the disposer in the bottom of the dishwasher.  I decided to find directions, take that sucker a apart, and fix it.  And, you know what?  I did it!  It took me an hour or two, but I took the whole thing apart, found the offending bits, removed the pieces of bone from the disposer, and put it back together.  The dishwasher worked. The dishwasher worked!!!!  I was ELATED!

Now, just a few weeks ago, the washing machine stopped draining.  After taking it all apart (and I mean all of it) I diagnosed the problem: the pump.  This particular washing machine is amazing, 14 years old but works like a charm.  I, however, didn't want to spend $300 to fix it, and didn't want to buy a newer, cheap machine, so I had to fix it, myself.  I bought a pump on EBay, but it was the wrong one.  So I returned it.  Then I bought the right pump on EBay.  I got it home.  I installed it.  No luck.  The washer was not spinning, the pump was working, but something was wrong.  I put everything back together (after I took it all apart, again) and started the washer, again.   It sprayed water all over the entire bathroom.  I asked for help, to whoever was listening, and quit for the night.  In the morning, I had an idea of what exactly to search for and was able to find pictures of what the guts of the washer should look like.  I found out that I had put a tiny plastic cog over something instead of under.  I replaced everything.  The WASHER WORKED!!!!!




Clearly, this incident is indicative of the fact that I am freaking amazing.  But, not just me, all of us are!  I don't have any special skills, but I do have YouTube, a give 'em Hell attitude, and that little voice in my head that says "Hey, I can do that!"  Thanks, Mom!

Making a Weeping Angel with a Dollar Store Doll and feeling very uncomfortable in the process.

Trying to complete a Doctor Who themed craft for my daughter's 10th birthday got weird.  I'm not a naturally crafty person, but I'll try just about anything for a birthday party now that they're old enough to remember them. 

First, I looked up different ways to create them.  This blog seemed the easiest to follow and looked pretty cool. 

We went to the Dollar Store and picked up two lovely 10"dolls.  This is where it starts to get weird.  Quick disclaimer about the messy kitchen:  normally I would put away or at least move the mess out of frame but I was on a time crunch and it was late AND I wanted the girls to help so we HAD to get this done-on top of the party supplies. 

First, I stripped the dolls and bent those ladies over.  After a whispered apology I stuffed a skewer in through the uncomfortable parts and all the way up to the head.  That is one BIG bonus to working with cheap, hollow dolls.  They are very easy to skewer.

Next, we cut the arms at the elbow (the kids were especially gleeful about this part) and chopped off their hair.  

Next, we hot glued the hands over the eyes, and the forearms to the elbows, and then started assembling the gown.

We had decided that our Angels would be clad in nothing but the best-Dollar Store Surgical Masks and Foam Board wings.  So, we got to work!  We shaped the dresses, hot glued them on the Angels, added the wings, tied a string around the waist, and were very pleasantly surprised with the results!

Finally, it was time to paint.

We did a base coat of Mineral Blue, then a top coat of an ivory.  My daughter thinks they are AWESOME and has already declared this her best birthday ever.  I'm pretty happy with them and SUPER happy with the price tag (about 2.50 each) 

Now, like the original blogger, we have to find a shelf or place by a mirror so that they don't get us!

Remember- DON'T BLINK!  

Sometimes, it Just sucks.

So, there I was, reading this article about the "sweet spot", getting all misty and realizing that if I am not in the parenting sweet spot, I'm pretty darn close.  I can take the minions to the beach and relax, I can let them play outside unattended, I am starting to feel like a person again!
Then it happened. 
We went to Wal-Mart-Mart.  Now, I'm not saying that this store is a horrible hellscape where souls are taken in exchange for cheap consumer goods, but we had a rough trip.  Child #2 whining and crying (for the second day in a row) about how mean I am because I won't buy Goldfish crackers.  And I can't buy Goldfish crackers, even if I wanted to, because of how she's acting.  You know what I mean.
We buy a bag of Kisses, soft taco ingredients because there should be leftover taco meat at home, and a few other things.
We get home.  FINALLY!!!  Look in the fridge- my heart sinks-no leftover taco meat.  Drop non-perishables, send oldest to crate the uber destructive dogs while we're gone, run to the store to get the meat.  Go back home.
Start bringing in the groceries.  The oldest comes to me with a look of concern.  "The dogs are the soft tacos," she says, "and the chocolate-all of it." 
"GET THEM IN THEIR CRATE!  We have to get back to the store."
The kids are back in the car. 
I bellow "Jesus Fucking Christ" at the empty wrappers strewn around the kitchen.
I get in the car.  A stream of Fuck-based profanities escapes my body like none I've ever shared in front of my kids.  I apologize, laugh, say "well, now you know how to use that word."  look in the rear view mirror, they're trapped between laughing and terror of this "new" mom.
We return from the store, I'm cooking the long awaited taco meat.  I hear screaming and crying from the yard.  The youngest child has decided to pee in the yard and has pissed all over herself.  Now she's squatting,  crying and screaming.  I get her inside-into a bath- then to dinner.  No one is happy.  Everyone is embarrassed.  We just have to make it to dinner.  GODDAMN IT!!!!

Sometimes you just try to make it to soft tacos.  Sometimes it sucks.  Then you try to remember you've handled much tougher stuff.  You're in the sweet spot.