When Wife Gives You Lemonade...

When my husband told me his teammates on his over 40 Lacrosse league voted him to the All-Star team, I was absolutely thrilled for him.  At our age, it's nice to know that we are still contenders despite having to ice our knees, aches, and other pains from overexerting our tired bodies.  The All-Star game was to be played at Harvard Stadium so we decided to make a day out of it and take the boys to enjoy the event.

When you have kids, and you plan for a long afternoon, you'll agree with me when I say there is lots of packing involved.  You need a change of clothes for the just-in-case situations, tons of water to stay hydrated, other time-passers, and of course, snacks (lots of them). I had my purse with all of my necessities in it as well.  My husband had his huge Lacrosse bag with his equipment, uniform, helmet, clothes, etc. 

It looked like we were moving to the stadium for a few weeks.

Okayyyyy we've got everyyyything!!


It had already been a hectic first half of the day.  I had a cut and color at the ass crack of dawn to get it done before anyone in my household woke up, Middler had a 2 hour Pinterest-Perfect Pirate Party to go to in the blazing hot sun, and finally, by 2:00 pm we were on the road.  It was a gorgeous, 80 degree, hot summer day in Boston, so add that traffic and we pulled into the stadium at 4:15.

Husband had to scoot off to the locker room with his teammates from the Rusty Bones (yes, that is their team name, LOL!), so I was left with the tribe and all of our belongings to climb the concrete stadium steps, praying no one trips and falls, resulting in injuries the first five minutes there.  We finally reached our seats and I was able to drop the 40 pounds of packed paraphernalia I was schlepping around for what felt like miles.  My shirt was soaked already, my hair was soaking in so much heat that it felt like suddenly I was flammable, and my lower back was throbbing from a raging case of PMS.  (Ladies, I know you just winced, because adding PMS to this story, let alone a 'raging' case of PMS puts everyone on edge, doesn't it?)  But don't worry.  At this point in the story, I'm happy, cheerful, optimistic, stable, and overflowing with what felt like an endless supply of patience. I was doing a great job of keeping my erratic moods and hormone fluctuations in check for the sake of a grand day out with the fam.

Currently, the over 30 game was going on.  The two oldest boys were watching them play, analyzing their moves, pointing and observing.  Youngest decided he needed a snack within 8 minutes of sitting down, so the others started snacking, too.  Everyone was content.  I was soaking up some sun and taking in the sights.  Across the stadium to the other steps were several very fit people running the stairs...up...down...back up...back down.  Just watching them gave me heart palpitations.  Ahh to be a young lass attending Harvard, in shape, world at your feet.  I was daydreaming.  An obnoxiously loud air horn woke me from my trance.  End of the over 30 game.   Okay, this is flying by, the kids are happy...we're looking good!

Between games, the stadium blared music.  Pat Benatar's Hit Me with Your Best Shot came on and I was feeling the groove, singing along, having a great time.  Look at me, enjoying a sporting event and having an endless supply of patience!  My PMS-ache wasn't even slightly annoyed with the concrete seats..yet!  I was getting hungry, though, so it was time to start thinking about a snack.  I figured I'd let the kids have at it and then grab what was left until the game was over and we could indulge in some filthy stadium food as part of the entertainment package.

Husband waved to us from the field!  The boys were excited to see him in the game as we cheered him on and routed for the North team to beat the South.  With each goal the South scored, our cheers became slightly more muffled.  Soon the North just had their asses handed to them, and the first half was over. Aside from the rumbling in the stadium, there was a rumbling in my belly.  I was very hungry.  I remembered the delicious array of snacks I packed and reached over for the cooler bag.  Empty.  Nothing. Nada.  Not-a-thing left.  Are you boys kidding me?  You ate everything? Guys, that was an awful lot of snacks. Fine.  I kept seeing other people filing in with tempting treats from the vendors down below: succulent, naughty chicken fingers and fries, Gyros, Burgers, Sausage Sandwiches, you name it - they had it.
I schlepped the kids down a flight of concrete stairs to grab myself (and them if they were still hungry at all) something to eat before I completely lost my cheerful disposition.  CASH ONLY.  ^%$#   ME.  The girl who NEVER leaves home without some cash in her purse had ZERO.  Count it...ZERO dollars on me.  Nothing. I was so busy packing food and drinks before we left, I completely forgot about money.  Husband had his wallet with cash in his equipment bag..in his locker...in the Harvard Men's Locker room.  Back up to our seats we go.  The pack mule and her babies.

Things were getting serious.
 600 questions, 30- "I'm hot's, Is that dad's? Who's that's? What's that's? later, the air horn blew.  I made it without blowing a gasket.  The Harvard stadium usher asked us to leave our seats since the game was over, and that we'd need to re-enter with our tickets to see the Boston Cannons game.  I had to repack everything the boys took out, throw everything over my shoulder and scoop the boys up to make our way out of the stadium.  I just had to get out of the stadium, reconnect with Husband and GET. HIS. WALLET.

Of course he needed a shower, butt slaps and attaboys from his teammates, etc.  Fine, I was still doing okay at this point keeping my shit together.  I was fantasizing about that chicken finger basket - something I seriously haven't indulged in for years - but I was going to do it today - I deserved it.  The boys and I perused the Lacrosse vendor booths, where they found plenty of things to keep them busy while we waited.  I watched people walk by with their fair fare and could feel my mouth watering.  Soon I spotted Husband coming toward us. 

Thank you sweet lord in heaven.  It won't be long now until I have my own Bliss in a Basket to ease my raging hormones.  The boys wanted to do some more poking around, but when Husband realized I hadn't eaten yet, he could see the direness of the situation, as he's been down PMS Rage Road before, he decided it was necessary that we get in, get our food, and find our seats.  Good Man.

The chicken finger booth had no line.  This was a wonderful thing.  Eldest and I got our baskets and I felt like a little girl on Christmas I was so excited.  The boys wanted burgers so we got in what seemed to be the mile-long line for those.  I stifled my frustration as I watched the guy ever-so-slowly flip one burger at a time.  WTF.  I wanted to go back there and throw 12 burgers on the grill and show him how the hell to cook for an army in less than 5 minutes.  But I didn't.  I remained calm.  Remarkably calm.  Husband decided he would do the Greek thing and grab a Gyro from the booth next to us.  Again, no line for that.  He got back in line with us and proceeded to eat the Gyro in approximately 4 bites and under 4 minutes.  I watched in amazement as it disappeared before my eyes.  Okay that's cool, he just expended about 800 calories playing in the MVP game, I'll cut him some slack.  I threw a few fries back just to start the carbohydrate comforting process and they were everything I'd hoped they'd be.  Soon I was holding napkins, bottles of water, burgers, backpacks, purses, etc. and we were making the pilgrammage back to our stadium seats.  I didn't want the boys dropping their $600 burgers while hiking the cement steps, so Husband and I combined efforts to carry everyone's everything.

They had a packed house - not much elbow room, but we managed to plop our stuff down in our small piece of Harvard stadium real estate.  I handed off the food I was holding, set my basket of heaven down and got everyone situated.  As I turned to dive head first into my sinful selection of fried food, I saw it happening.  Middler wanted to come down to our row to sit and lost his balance and stepped foot first into my basket of bliss, causing the basket to slip and french fries and fingers to fly aimlessly into the night air.


My $50 food binge was gone right before my eyes, and I only got to sample six fries before it was gone.

For about 5 seconds, I asked myself how much harmful bacteria Middler could've actually had on his foot and how bad off I would be if I just ate it,  and then I shook myself from my ridiculous question and promptly cleaned up the mess and stomped off to the garbage can to dispose my disaster.  Tears welled up in my eyes.   (Oh stop rolling your eyes, if you've ever had hormone-induced pms rage, you know that it's totally normal to cry over stupid shit and have zero control over it).  I fought those tears and fought the urge to kick everyone around me in the teeth and composed myself. Husband sprang to action and said he would go get me another basket but it was too late, I was already having a mental breakdown and didn't want another one.  For about 5 minutes, I had the meltdown of a 5 year old over a stupid chicken finger basket. PMS breakdowns happen.  Even to the best of us, they just happen.

Oh well, I didn't really need fatty foods anyway, right?  I sat and sulked for the first part of the game and then the kids insisted they needed fresh squeezed Lemonade, so Husband accommodated them.  As he came back to our squished seating location, he handed me a Lemonade of my own.  Icy cold, delish, sweet, sugar-infused Lemonade.  I savored every sip, to (almost) the last drop, and then chewed the ice cubes to find syrupy goodness in every bite.  Middler was putzing around with a napkin and some kind of rubber band or like it that he found on the stadium ground.  I gave Husband my Lemonade to set by him so Middler didn't kick it over during his shananigans and lose my last few sips of yummy goodness, when next thing I know, Middler throws his nasty napkin and rubber band object IN the remainder of my Lemonade.


"Sorry, Mama, I thought you were done!"

I am done. Totally and utterly done.

There is no sense crying over spilled french fries - but when Wife hands you her Lemonade, can you just keep it out of harm's way?

Love those boys...I love 'em awful...but they drive me crazy because they know they can.


I Laughed All Night...

I chose this photo of Larry and Jeff from Curb Your Enthusiasm, because this is the kind of laughter I was representing last night.

I have a hangover this morning.

My head hurts.

My stomach literally aches.

I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything though.

You see it's not a booze hangover - it's a hangover from utter hysteria.

The belly laughs I produced last night for h o u r s while reading this book, You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth  not only gave my abs the workout of a lifetime, but managed to annoy the hell out of my sleeping husband - enough that he finally just left the room.  (I tried to stifle the laughs - I swear I tried...but you know when you're trying so hard that the opposite happens?  Ya, that.  I held them in and the tremors shook the bed as I bounced up and down from the shockwaves of laughter.)

He finally came back to bed, and I turned off the iPad and my dizzy head hit the pillow and my thoughts drifted to a line from a story - and BOOM the laughs started again.  Tears streaming down my face, mascara blurring my vision, and I'm practically choking from coughing and larynx irritation.

You too can annoy the shit out of your husband, give your abs the workout of a lifetime, and let your spirit be filled with laughs you haven't had in ages....

Go. Order. Now.    

Thank you Kim at Let Me Start By Saying for the awesome graphic!

Thank me later.

Love and Laughs,
(PS...if you need another book - go for I Just Want to Pee Alone, another brilliantly funny anthology by a bunch of us crazy giggle-lovers!)


Brutally Blunt Bosom Buddies

The Urban Dictionary describes the meaning of Bosom Buddies as "True friends who know and understand one another, even despite occasional fits of hormonal rage."

 How that definition makes me laugh! It's so true though, think about your true friends who know you and love you no matter how moody you are or how indecisive or late or whatever flaw, their friendship is unconditional and  that is why you trust them with all of your heart and soul that they will be brutally honest with you if the time ever came that they needed to be!

This is a skill we develop over time, starting in preschool.

In preschool, honesty is just a fact of life. Most 3 and 4 year olds don't have the life experience to know how to be anything BUT matter-of-factly with each other. Here are some things a pre-school friend might tell you:

You took all of the red paint, and that's not fair. 
You are being a doody head.
I don't like you.

Pre-School Honesty:  Pure Poetry.

 Fast forward to grade school, things don't really improve as far as your schoolmates' honesty goes. You might hear some of these things from a 'friend':

The sandwich your mom packed you looks really gross. 
Your breath stinks like Sour Cream and Onion Chips.
 I didn't vote for you for Student Council.

Grade Schoolers don't sugarcoat.

 By Middle School, you've developed enough of a circle of friends that there is a gentler approach to honesty that you appreciate during these awkward years:

I hate to tell you this, but you have a huge zit at the end of your nose. 
You have lettuce in your braces.
XYZ, PDQ (X-amine your Zipper Pretty Darn Quick) a.k.a....YOUR FLY IS OPEN!

 As girls, we start to understand by our tweens that we need each other for survival. We have to rely on each other to tell the nitty gritty truth, even if we don't want to hear it. We are a type of wolf-pack that chooses a few loyal mates to get through each segment of our lives. By high school, you've got your best friends and you know they are going to tell you the truth no matter how awkward it is but you learn to temper the blow with solutions:

 Jimmy only asked you to Prom on a dare. So so so sorry. We'll steal his football cleats later and hang them from the telephone wire.
Your dance moves need a little work - come over my house after school and I'll help you before the dance this weekend. 
You're putting that liquid eyeliner on all wrong - I'll send you the YouTube link to a tutorial that will help you.

College is every girl for herself, but if you are fortunate, you've got some great roommates or sorority sisters or friends that will keep the communication lines open:

You kind of act like an asshole when you're drunk.
I think you should consider showering today.
That guy you like is a total douche bag.

When you are a grown up, you need really good friends to be there for you and alert you to avoid potential disasters (and they need you, too!).

Social Gatherings: Oh my gosh, quick, to the bathroom, you have a huge piece of spinach covering your entire front tooth and you look like your tooth is missing.
Your eyeliner is smearing down your face - I have a quick fix..get to the restroom! 
Your dress got caught in your undies in the bathroom - turn around and I'll pull it out for you.
You have a crazy, stray chin hair, but don't worry, I have tweezers in my purse! 

Shopping Outings: That is NOT the dress for you.
You are wearing the WRONG bra, let's go find the right one.
You walk like a newborn calf in those heels. They are too high. 

Friends don't let friends stumble around in heels...no matter how gorgeous the shoes are.

We've all been put in situations where, despite the sick feeling in our stomach, we have to tell our friend something that may seem awkward, but you know you have to do because it's the right thing to do. Thank goodness we can laugh about it, right!

I am happy to introduce to you the brilliantly funny anthology called “You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth” and Other Things You’ll Only Hear from Your Friends In The Powder Room is officially on sale TODAY! The paperback version and the Kindle version are now available on Amazon. Other ebook formats and retailers (Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo, Diesel and Apple) will be coming through the pipeline very soon, and we’ll keep you posted as and when they are available.

A Book is Born!  Weighing 12 ounces, and measuring almost 9 inches long, this book is full of giggles and laughs that will not only fill you up with joy, but will give your abs a workout, too! Buy the book here!

 Here is just a little teaser on some of the contributors and their pieces! (Click Here for the full list of authors)
 Enjoy !!

Abby Heugel
Swinging Singles
Although my grandmother offered such sage dating advice as, "Spice things up. Your grandpa would come downstairs while I was doing the washing and
bend me over the washing machine," I still remain single and less-than willing to mingle. Being single has perks, and while I'll never aim to be a trophy wife, being a consolation prize wife just might work.

Tracy Winslow
The Gym: A Place Where Muscles and Gag Reflexes Go To Workout
On the tour of your new gym facility you are shown the pool, spa, sauna, workout and yoga rooms. What they fail to give you is a warning about the WOMEN who frequent the locker room. Some of the things you see there will shock, horrify, astound and amuse you. It's not for the weak of heart. Or stomach.

Leslie Marinelli
http://www.TheBeardedIris.com & http://www.InThePowderRoom.com
"Beauty and The Beast: Keeping Abreast of Sibling Rivalry"
Laughing in the face of all parenting experts, Leslie admits she has a favorite... a favorite breast. She can't help it; one is just much prettier and more well-behaved than the other one. #TrueStory #GimpyBoob

Meredith Spidel
"I Have a Dress Problem"
We've all got our closet shame, Meredith's comes in the form of cases of t-shirt dresses that she hides from her husband.  People don't divorced over stuff like this, right?  Right??

Andrea C.
"Going Off the Deep End: A Tale of Swimsuits Gone Wrong"

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger - and the stories of my bathing suits from summers’ past are no exception to the rule. If people have skeletons in their closet, mine are wearing swimwear - just hanging there as a reminder of the horrors I endured from poor choices, wrong sizes, and unsuitable designs for my body type.

Ellen Williams and Erin Dymowski
Is Forty Fabulous?
If forty is really so fabulous, then why do people keep spoon feeding us with the force of a front end loader the notion that “Forty is the New Thirty”? Stop making our accomplishments about maintaining the fountain of youth. We are comfortable in our Spanx encased skins and we want to be toasted with soy lattes for the wisdom we have gained and the goals we have achieved, not the size of our pores.

Rebecca Gallagher
"Friends Let Friends Pee Their Pants"
We all know that childbirth can wreak havoc on our bladders. But even as a teenager, I had a week continence. It's bad enough peeing your pants, but peeing in a pair of your friend's pants- that's a whole different story!

Noa Gavin
"There Is No Ball Drying At The Dinner Table"
Most people have to set boundaries in a marriage: who does what chores, who wakes up with the baby, who walks the dog. I had to set some, too. Like where it is and is not appropriate to showcase your balls. Hint: not at eye level.

Amy Flory (Grotzke)
"The ABC Club"
Freshman year of college I bonded with two women who are still my closest friends. That bond was solidified over a mutual disdain for the nasty business of blow jobs. We even formed a club, The Anti-Blow Job Club (Club?), which our mothers were less proud of than we expected them to be.

Shari Simpson
"What Happens in Vegas"
Vegas. It's not just a city, it's a state of mind. For the past eight years, I've been meeting every Thursday morning with my two friends for a group we call "Vegas", as in "What happens in Vegas..."--yep, you know the rest. We meet for prayer, support, talk, love, gut-busting laughs... no gambling allowed.

Janie Emaus
"Confucius Say: When Shit Hits Fan, Girlfriends Bring Pooper Scooper"
Marriage is a give and take situation. But sometimes it's hard to take without your girlfriends. As Janie knows, when needed, they bring the tissue, a good bottle of vodka, and a penisless perspective to help through the rough times.

Keesha Beckford
Before J.Lo. Before BeyoncĂ©.  Before twerking.  When Bootylicious sounded like rump shaped bubble gum, there was a little girl with a bubble butt and a dream -- to dance.  Her passion would take her up and down the road of ass-shame. Only as a grown woman would she make true peace with the onion on her back.

Amy Wruble
"Second Husband Material"
What happens when you meet a potential Mr. Right at the wrong time?  According to Amy, you end up on the subway in a trench coat and heels, with your dignity in your purse. A cautionary tale from a mom blogger looking back on her wild days.

Tarja Parssinen
"A Pipeline Runs Through It"
I used to be a zero-emissions kind of gal - the only one in my family.  And then I had kids and a natural gas pipeline was run straight through my ravaged body.  Global warming is real, my friends, and it's sleeping with my husband.  Which I'm pretty sure answers the question: "Can't we keep just a little mystery in our relationship?"

Janel Mills
"Happy Accidents"
Being knocked up on accident -- it's not just for teenagers on MTV anymore.  Sometimes it happens to grown-ass women in their thirties.  However, being unexpectedly pregnant doesn't have to be a reality-show nightmare.  You may find yourself surprised by more than just the plus sign on the stick.

Kim Bongiorno
"Then I Asked: What Should I Know About Having a Kid?"
Kim was expecting her first kid in a month, so asked a close friend whether the baby books she had read were telling her the whole truth. They were decidedly not. This is a no-holds-barred truth about what labor, delivery and those first weeks at home with your bundle of scream are really like.

Cheers, Love and Laughs,