Twitter Party

I have a confession:  I'm a really god-awful friend. I'm terrible about emailing, texting, and god forbid I make arrangements to meet face-to-face.

So in an effort to be more social, I attended my first twitter party the other night.

I told Brendan about it but he didn't really get it.

Me: I have a twitter party to go to tonight

Brendan: What the fuck is a twitter party?

Me: It's a party. On twitter.

Brendan: Did you hear what you just said?

Me: Of course. It came out of my mouth.

Brendan: So you're going into a chat room to hang out with people.

Me: No. I'm going onto twitter to hang out with people. Totally different.

Brendan: You're just like that Kip guy from Napoleon Dynamite.



I also asked my friends about the social etiquette of a twitter party (because I'm socially awkward in ALL situations.) My friend, Michael, suggested pants were optional.  And if for no other reason, this makes twitter parties superior to all other social gatherings.

And if you're on twitter, be my friend. #thatisall

Potty Training....Fail?

We've been potty training Cassidy, for about 9 months. I kid you not. 

This is what the first 8.5 months looked like:

Step 1: Buy a kiddy potty

Step 2: Put it in the living room

Step 3: Point it out to the kids and say, "Look! Potty! Don't you want to use it? All your wildest dreams will come true if you put piss and crap in it!"

Step 4: Start buying pull-ups and hope for the best

My very own poop princess

You'll be shocked but it didn't really work out all that well.

The kids may have been self-motivated to do other developmental tasks, like roll over, sit up, crawl, walk-  But potty training? Ha! Who needs it when you can sit in your own filth for hours on end?

So, a few weeks ago I'd had it. We were spending a fortune on diapers.  That was money I could've spent on something way better- like a pet sloth.

We did a little "oh crap potty training" action.  (ps- This shit works. Do it).  She was pretty much potty trained from go.  We went whole-hog and she hasn't even shat the bed at night.  And we don't have to mess with stickers or peanuts or m&m's or any of that other crap.

The daycare staff were all "We're not worthy" and were impressed with my parenting prowess. 

And then? The token potty training gone awry story that happens to everyone (it happens to everyone, right?) 

Cassidy shat on a tree last week. At daycare. Then she was proudly showing off her tree turd to the kids and teachers in her class.


On the upside, I can start saving up for that sloth.

Hold me or hold my hair back while I dry heave- Either one

I was chatting with my friend, Melinda, on the phone the other day.  She was asking me whether or not she should put her name in a lottery to do some crazy Escape From Alcatraz race in 2014.

I got all smarty pants philosophical and helpful - (which is probably why I have so few friends)

"Never make a decision based purely out of fear or laziness," I told her.

BOOM. Head exploding wisdom, yes?

Not so much.

Because about 30 seconds later, she asked me to run a half marathon with her next fall.

So I was faced with either doing a half-marathon or being a total hypocrite.

And now I'm doing this g-d half-marathon next fall. (I know, I know, I have 12 months to train....But I'm scared. Hold me.)

I hope these shoes are made of magic

Hypocrisy sounds pretty good right about now.

The Babe

I'd like you to meet our family, according to Finn.

This is Diggity:

This is Baby Dridget:

This is Mama/Mommy:

And this is Babe:

 
The Babe is not excited about his son calling him Babe.

She Bangs! She Bangs!

I have a hair appointment today.

Which is like super necessary because my hair is long and tragic and my roots are tragic and my split ends are tragic and overall, my look is tragic.

Tragedy reigns supreme.

I've been sporting various versions of the mom pony for the past 2 months.

And before the mom pony, my hair has been essentially the same style for the past....oh, 20 years or so.

But it hasn't all been a snooze. There've been a few forrays into hair adventure- like when I was blondish or when I chopped it into a bob or when I got bangs- twice.

And today I'm feeling the itch. The itch to do something adventurous (read- stupid).

And of course perusing the pinterest, I have seen all kinds of gorgeous hair on gorgeous women and have tapped my finger against my lips with a "hmmm...I could rock that maybe...hmmmm."

There's a good chance I will do something pretty stupid today. Stay tuned.

Until then, here's a picture of me with bangs.

I Only Run When I'm Being Chased or My Hair Smells Like Cheese

I was catching up on my blog reading and my bloggy friend, Lisa, is like a running machine over in Australia. Which reminded me, I've been running for 3 months and I haven't blogged about it once.

Which is in stark contrast to pre-pregnancy 2011 when I documented every dry-heave and booty clap via blog.

So, here's the deal, Folks. I have turned into a runner. I can run my own little 5Ks like a machine. I started out barely running 30 seconds in a row. 

I pretty much strap on my shoes, throw my hair in a pony, and plug in some ear buds 3-4 times a week on the regular. Which is the most consistent working out I've done since before my wedding.

Wanna know my secret?

I have a contract with myself.  I only get to wash my hair if I've gone for a run. And since my hair pretty much turns into a solid after 2 days, this incentive works.

You're welcome.

Other running gems of wisdom from a gal who would rather sit on the couch stuffing her pie hole with food:

* Anxiety is normal. I've realized that just like walking out the door is part of the process, so is my mini panic attack every time I lace up my tennies. Sports bra- Check, Deoderant- Check, Heart Racing With Fear- Check, Playlist Loaded- Check.

* Boredom happens. I get bored easily. I've found running through different neighborhoods and getting just a little lost helps.

* I downloaded this app. It turns my run into a game and hey- hearing some groaning, panting zombies coming for me helps light a fire under my ass.  Plus, it's all British and "The zombies are coming to eat your face! Cheerio!"

So, strap on your kicks and hit the sidewalk or treadmill. We'll all dry heave together!

Denver Clickin Walk

On Saturday, new camera bag in tow, I pocketed my ego and headed downtown to the Denver Clickin Walk.

Also, shout out to my friend, Melinda, who came along so I wouldn't spiral into complete social awkwardness.

I met some AWESOME local gals and we all got to geek out over our cameras and some street photography. And? Turns out I like taking pictures of things that aren't my kids. Who woulda thought?

Here are some of my favorites from the day: