I don’t know if it’s the Gemini or the Catholic in me, but when I do something that I think is weird/horrible/embarassing, I will literally never forget it. When I was in that weird between awake and sleeping state the other day, my brain was flooded with a handful of things that made me thing, am I a horrible person? (In a joking way, of course! Obviously, I’m an awesome person because babies trust me and I bought a hamburger for a homeless person one time because he couldn’t walk through the drive-thru…)

I feel like I need to share my burden of shame and hopefully some of you will tell me a story that is even more horrible and makes me look better, which is a quality I really like in any and all friends.

1. One time in high school, I took $20 from the stack of cash on the dining room table that my parents left for the maid. My mom came back because she forgot something for work and asked me about it. I weakly denied it and spent the next month totally wracked with guilt. A few months later, I put $20 extra in another stack to atone for my atrocious behavior, but it still gives me heart palpitations to think about it.

2. One time, also in high school (I’m seeing a recurring theme!), I got locked out of the house somehow and really had to go to the bathroom. The first thing I could find in the backyard while I was panicking about it was a cardboard box in the recycling bin. I’ll let you use your imagination from here on out, but the horrible part is that I put the box in a neighbors trash can.

3. In college, I had a horrible internship with bosses that I thought were mean so one day, I put a few boogers under one of their desks one day. I still think sometimes about what happened if he/she ever discovered it and I hope they know it was me.

4. In like 5th grade, I peed the trundle bed I was sharing with a friend at a slumber party. It was pretty obvious that it was me since my PJ’s were like soaking wet, but I was a fierce liar that was determined not to be branded as a pee pee head and totally blamed it on my friend.

5. On more than one occasion (but not since college) I have told my friend that an outfit looked good on her when it did not just so I could look better when we went out. I think in this particular case, horrible = insecure.

6. I secretly don’t mind – and even like – the word “moist.”

Am I a horrible person, America? Please reveal a secret about something you’ve done that makes you question your character. Don’t leave me hanging out here.

My family is ultra competitive. We may seem fun and laid back, but we will compete over literally everything. If it’s not already a competition (say, breathing) we’ll make it into one (like who takes the most breaths per minute or who can go the longest without breathing.)

It’s a sickness, but I think it might be the secret to our closeness.

I once screamed “GET ON WITH IT WOMAN” to my grandpa’s wife when she was trying to come up with a clue while we played a family game of Taboo on Christmas Day. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. I mean, it’s a timed game.

It is with this background that I give you this email exchange with my aunts and uncles and parents and grandpa without further comment.

Aunt Lori (after she sent an emailing saying “right” instead of “write”: 

Correction: “write” a note. Jeez.

Lori’s Brother Dan:

Don’t worry sis, I’m sure everyone knows that you don’t not know how to spell and use good grammar.

Aunt Di:

I new that.

Aunt Shay:

Me two.

My Dad:

Leave Lori a loan!

Me:

Their, they’re, Lori! Don’t loose you’re good attitude about it. Its something that definately effects all of us at some point weather or not we want it too.

My Grandpa:

It looked write to me.

Lori’s Brother Dan:

The responses are hilarious! I am laughing so hard I think I’m going to pea in my pants.

Aunt Janet: 

Four reel now … where did we all go to skool?

Even who can be the most grammatically incorrect is a game. Which I obviously won. Grammatically Incorrect Champion of 2012!

There’s really no good reason to look inside the mouth of a heaving toddler. My best friend found out the hard way.

When you’re on vacation, or any time really, you don’t want to be woken up from a dead sleep with “MEGHAN! MEGHAN! Come here! COME HERE!”

When you’re on vacation, you really don’t want to flip on the lights to see your best friend holding her child out at arms length with both of them covered in throw up.

Since I was still half asleep, I didn’t have to time to do anything but grab the baby, run him to the bathroom (facing away from me DUH!) and let him finish his business. If you’ve never seen a 2 year old throw up, it is literally the saddest thing in the world.

I’ll spare you fine folks the details, but as soon as I saw my little buddy boot it into the toilet, it was painfully clear that I had bribed him with one too many handfuls of M&Ms on our trek earlier that day. Or maybe it was the cannoli?

As I held the tiny chocoholic – diapered, whimpered and defeated – my friend was balling up her shirt and the baby’s onesie in a towel that she conveniently “forgot” to throw away or take care of the next day. Sorry, cleaning service!

Twenty minutes later, he was doing somersaults on the bed and trying to kick me in the head and I was trying not to throw up because I kept thinking about it. I have a weak stomach, y’all. These are the things you do for the ones you love. Also, I’ll remember this forever so I can hold it over my friend’s head in perpetuity!

True to my panicking nature, I made my friend take a sworn oath that I would not have to board a plane if anyone else got sick, which was a possibility since the little guy had already stuck his vomit-covered hand in my mouth. One of my worst nightmares is getting sick on an airplane and having to deal with what we proper Southern girls call “stomach issues” in the confined space of a tin can with 200 other people. My stomach is hurting just thinking about it.

I make parenting mistakes, with other people’s kids, so you don’t have to and the lessons here are plentiful.

Don’t ply your child to get into his/her stroller with handfuls of M&Ms, especially if you are walking for like 5 hours through the streets of Boston because that’s a lot of chocolate.

Above all, if your child is kind of gagging or heaving, do not pass GO, do not collect…whatever, you know what I mean. Just RUN to the bathroom and aim for the best.

Whenever I tell people I’m taking a sabbatical, they either think I’m totally depressed and hate my job, some weird hippy college professor who still smokes weed on the weekends or not having sex for awhile (you’re thinking of celibate, Mr. Mensa!)

Not true.

I tried to think of a way to make this post funny because I try to think of a way to make everything funny, but it’s not really that funny. It’s just my life right now – for the next eight weeks – I was on vacation for the first two – as I take a mental break from doing the same thing for six years. That doesn’t mean I don’t like my job. In fact, I love what I do and I’m lucky that I was not only allowed but encouraged to take the time I wanted. But, being in the creative field is a brain strain sometimes and I needed a little time to recharge, learn some new things, sharpen my skills as a writer and just chill. Let’s be honest, I have a long time until I retire and I won’t be taking maternity leave any time soon unless a true miracle happens (not like that’s a vacation at all) so I needed a little something. Something new, something different. A reference point in my life where I can look back at think, yep…that’s when I made something happen for myself.

So, I have some plans, but I’m trying to keep myself open to saying “yes” to whatever comes along. I had the chance to take a wonderful trip to Disney with my family, see a friend get married in Colorado. I’ll be training for a half marathon. Writing and reading like crazy. Doing some projects around the house. Cooking. Probably catching up on my DVR and developing some new reality TV addictions (hi, Barter Kings and 7 Days of Sex!!) And, the best part, whatever else I feel like.

I have taken to talking to the dog, psyching myself up in the mirror to put on pants before 2 p.m., sat with my computer outside in 100 degree heat so I didn’t fall down the spiral of a Laguna Beach marathon, bought a pressure canner and drank a margarita during the day.  There’s not really a road map for sabbaticals so I’m just going with my gut here.

Please check in on me from time to time to make sure I don’t become a weird hoarder or mute or start wearing matching clothes with the dog.

What about you guys? What would you do on a 10-week sabbatical?

So awhile back, my friends starting wearing leggings and I hated it and thought it was stupid. I was nervous to wear them because I didn’t want anyone to see my front privates. I didn’t think I had the right bod for it and all my shirts were too short. I didn’t get it.

Then, like a year later, I pretty much was exclusively wearing leggings for pants because it didn’t even feel like I had pants on and it was awesome. I’m a late adopter of trends.

This is how I feel like Bloggers in Sin City has bloomed in my heart. Last year, I was nervous. I didn’t want to show my front privates (I mean this as a metaphor for being nervous to meet new people BUT also that I didn’t want to literally flash strangers my vag) and I didn’t put myself out there the way I wanted and I felt weird when I left and everyone was writing sweet and squishy things about each other and I didn’t feel like I was getting it like every one else was.

But a year later, I totally, totally get it. Everything aligned and I felt like my heart and soul were totally pantless the whole time this year.

You know that type of love where you feel like someone should build a statue of you, have a parade in your honor, name a street or school after you because what you are doing, what you can accomplish together is so astronomically ridiculously grand that it has never happened before and must be immortalized for generations to worship? Yeah, me neither, but I think I heard a song about it.

But, that’s sort of how this weekend was. It really doesn’t make any sense that 60 bloggers from all walks of life, all ages, all levels of dancing ability (let’s be honest, people, some of us are not good dancers and we all know that it’s not me!) could come together for three days, many meeting each other for the first time, and just totally rock it out like they’ve be together forever. But, it totally works and you walk away in total love with the experience, ready to shout your hopes and dreams and goals from the rooftops, wanting to never stop laughing, and creating your best life. YES, all of that can happen in 72 hours. Sort of like hallucinogenic drugs, but more legal. Maybe you could find a handful of people who would even have a bananers idea like this, but only one could actually make it happen. If you don’t know Nicole, you need to change that right now because if you want your soul set on fire, she’s got the matches and probably the lighter fluid, too.

I want to say that you can’t understand it until you’ve been there. Not because I’m trying to be a jerk about it or a snob, but because it is beyond comprehension that all these people make such a cohesive group. That I decided to fly into San Diego instead of directly to Vegas so I could drive in with my roommate WHO I HAD NEVER MET BEFORE. My dad was worried that she would kidnap me and/or leave me in the desert for the vultures, but thankfully she was really skinny so I could totally take her. Plus, she’s too nice for that. Seriously, Swapp is the best roommate this blogger could ask for.

From start to finish, there were huge hugs, sparkly bikinis, Mad Men inspired fashion, so many laughs, dancing, winning money from my future husband, going to a bar made COMPLETELY OF ICE WTF?, nakedness (Cirque, not me), buffets, delicious caramels, condoms (not used, hi mom!), water made specifically for travel (what am I, a celebrity?), VIP pool status & my favorite Vegas hotel rooms, new friends, old friends.

See you next year, little biscuits.

(photo by the loverly Terra Bear!)

So, the other day my friend Nicole had a great thought – isn’t it weird that some people who read our blogs have never even heard what our voices sound like? My real life friends and family who read obviously know what I sound like and say they can hear my voice telling them these stories. I think it really makes a difference!

So, because I am susceptible to peer pressure and Nicole asked nicely, I’ve taken one of my blog posts (I’m a Panicker…about the time I almost became a criminal) and recorded it.

Unlike other people, I think my voice sounds awesome. Like Valley girl meets pot head. Plus, I won a speech competition in like 7th grade so BOO YAH!

Is the story funnier or in any way different hearing me say it?

P.S. Thinking about reading people’s blogs when they don’t know what they sound like reminds of something weird I always think about. You know how you have photos with random people in the background that just walked in your shot. Isn’t it weird to think that someone is looking at a photo album right now, flipping through their most precious memories and your dumb ass is like in the background of the shot totally clueless?? WEIRD, RIGHT??!?

Want to know what’s freaking insane? Deciding to drink nothing but juice for five days. Juicing is super popular right now and since I’m so susceptible to trends (does not apply to fashion trends, of course…) I jumped on the bandwagon fast. I got a juicer for Christmas, watched a documentary about juicing, told literally every single person I came in contact with about juicing, and spent $100 of precious money (have I told you before how cheap I am??) on fruits and veggies for my first cleanse.

Because I don’t live in a city like New York or LA where they have people that like deliver you juice on their hippie bikes and what not and I’m jealous about that, I had to do my own thing and juice ALL OF THE FRUITS AND VEGETABLES FOREVER.

This is what your fridge will look like before you start the cleanse. I literally had NOTHING in there but the Brita, a pizza box and some pickles and then BAM – drawers and shelves totally full of health.

I heard that I was either going to feel like total shit because all the toxins were getting flushed out of my bod or I was going to feel freaking awesome like an angel who just chugged Red Bull and suddenly started waking up without an alarm clock.

And….none of those things happened.

I felt totally normal, except answering everyone’s questions about the cleanse (which I was happy to answer to best I could!) and having to bring a mason jar of juice to a breakfast meeting. I didn’t have any less or any more energy than normal.

Here’s what did happen:

1. I went to the bathroom A. LOT.
2. I was never, ever, not one time hungry. I had to drink 4, 20-ounce drinks a day plus 2, 14-ounce coconut waters and then other water in between.
3. I gagged every time I had to drink coconut water (aka rotten water).
4. Beet juice turned my pee pee pink and tasted like dirty dirt nastiness.
5. My stomach was super flat.
6. I lost 6 pounds and gained back half of those (see #9).
7. My skin looked great.
8. I learned that I use food as a solution for boredom and social opportunities and I need to be much more mindful of the things I eat.
9. I broke my fast with a Diet Dr. Pepper and some fajitas and I didn’t die.

I continue to juice for breakfast sometimes and dinner sometimes and I will definitely do a cleanse in the future. If it’s something you’ve been thinking about, I totally encourage you to go for it. Expect crazy amounts of weird looking juice like this:

This time of year is the worst because of one thing: Mardi Gras jealousy. Facebook gets flooded with pictures, weather updates, statuses about where people are standing for which parade, etc. And then I get insane with jealousy and vow to go to Mardi Gras again next year. Which I never get around to doing.

Since I went to college in New Orleans, I’ve been to a few Mardi Gras celebrations in my day. It is the biggest, craziest party I’ve ever seen. I always get flashbacks of funny things that have happened and things that I’ve seen and things I’ve done. If I ever seen you in person, remind me to tell you the good stuff…here on Mom & Dem, I’ll give you the PG version:

Stuff That I’ve Definitely Done During Mardi Gras (the family-friendly edition)

Pushed a young child over to get beads. I don’t feel bad about this one bit. Those kids act all innocent and sweet on top of their ladders, but they are brutal. They will rip beads out of your hands or scramble around your feet, confusing you, just to grab the best stuff. So, yeah…I pushed a couple of kids over. Maybe even a grandma or two. But, they would do the same to you in a heartbeat. Only the strong survive on the parade route.

Fallen asleep on the parade route. Like literally falling dead asleep in a folding chair with people screaming and catching beads all around me. I can’t even fall asleep in the car with a pillow and blanket, but I can fall asleep on the street at Mardi Gras.

Peed in the street, on people’s yards and behind cars. Sorry Mom and Dad., but this one is totally true. In my defense, you drink A LOT of….um, liquids during Mardi Gras and lots of times there’s either no bathrooms close or no bathrooms useable. I mean, I don’t think I need to paint you a picture of what a Port-A-Pottie at Mardi Gras looks like. And, even if I did, I would probably run out of brown paint before the painting was even finished. This was also a time in my life when my quad muscles were much stronger than they are now so I was a lot more accomplished at the pop and squat than I could ever be in my old age.

Looked like this: (I still have those pants in case you’re wondering!!)

And also like this: 

What I’ve Actually Never Done During Mardi Gras

Flashed anyone, anywhere. Believe it or not, I’ve never flashed anyone the upstairs goods during Mardi Gras.

Please share your favorite Mardi Gras memory if you’ve got one!!

My eyes are permanently crossed after this one.

I mean, my standards might be low, but I think that “knowing how to use a period” is at the top of my list for qualities I want in a guy.

“usually i dont put myself out there like i am about to do for u cause one it seem like most of these women on here about games but i think that u are real cute like for real u got my attention real attracted to u and i might not be your type of guy hopefully i would be but i would like to see how a conversation between the both of us will turn out i mean wats the worst that can happen i think imma a pretty cool dude im laid back like to have fun and sometimes do do stuff and i can honestly say u will look good on my side doin them things with me not sayin u dont look good alone or nothin like that cause hell obviously u do im sendin u this message but let me know wat u think life is about takin chances right and i think im a chance worth takin even if u dont think m your type or u dont wanna converse with me tell me that i can handle the truth i like honesty hope to hear from u”

Well, you should have mentioned that you like to have fun and sometimes do stuff a little earlier in the message and I probably would have gone for you!

I should have posted this a week ago or so, but I was literally on my death bed on Christmas Day puking my guts out (lost 8 pounds, YEAH!!!) and didn’t have the mental capacity to brag about one of my favorite family holiday traditions. 

Everyone has things they judge other people about – it could be clothes, religion, what they eat, what TV show they watch. I judge people by their family’s holiday traditions, specifically Christmas. If you tell me that you sit around and crack nuts and drink wassail all I hear is…blah, blah, I’m super boring.

I’m a horrible person.

But, I can’t help it my family really brings their A game to the holidays. It’s a dog eat dog world out there and I’m just along for the ride. THE TROLLEY RIDE.

The Belly of the Beast (circa 2010)

Let me explain. There are some people in my family (Hi, Mama!) who have beautiful voices. So, we rent a trolley – like a real-life, red, decorated with lights trolley – and travel around Dallas caroling at people’s houses. It’s pretty serious. We start practicing AT LEAST 10-15 minutes before we leave and our song repertoire consists of 4-5 Christmas classics.

If you’ve never tried to get a group of 30 people of varying degrees of singing capability to harmonize on “Walking a Winter Wonderland” then you just haven’t lived. If you haven’t seen a fight between two eight-year-olds break out over who is going to bring a bottle of wine to the front door, then you’re really missing out.

Even though it sounds super fun so far, it’s actually very stressful. First of all, you have to claim your trolley buddy early in the evening. If no one wants to be your trolley buddy, it means you smell, you’re over 25 and single, or you drank a little too much one year and accidentally broke a window on the trolley trying to open it too forcefully (not that I know who would do such a thing…) If you choose the wrong trolley buddy, they might sing too loud or tell boring stories. Then, you could choose a trolley buddy who commits the ultimate betrayal and switches trolley buddy mid-trip. Choose your seatmate wisely is a good life lesson.

Then, there are no seatbelts in the trolley so you have to be aware at all times. Don’t try to walk from seat to seat while the trolley is in motion because you or your drink will become a Christmas casualty. (UPDATE: Yes, I’m a car safety nerd/freak!)

Finally, don’t plan on having any original ideas about this 20-plus year tradition because someone will have an opinion about it (usually it’s me, actually, but I’m the one with the idea this time!) I know it’s a total cliche, but I wanted to wear tacky Christmas sweaters. I floated the idea out there on Facebook expecting a chorus of “Hooray!” and “What would we ever do without you?” Do you think that happened? No, it didn’t. You would have thought that I asked my brothers to eat a bag of nails set on fire with the outrage it caused. I mean, an actual quote from my little brother: “tacky christmas sweater theme is the most overrused thing since K (ed note: K is our little sister) would only eat chicken nuggets.” I mean, super harsh, Grinchy McGrinch-a-lot. But guess what? I got my way, everyone finally came around to the idea and they looked super precious in their sweaters. You have to stay strong to make it in this family.