Songs That Make Us Sing Saturday!

I love the Backstreet Boys. Don't laugh! I've been a crazy stalker obsessed fan since I was 15. And when I say obsessed, I'm so not kidding. For years my poor hubby had to go to sleep with a poster of AJ above our bed. (God I'm lucky he loves me!) No matter the day I have, any BSB song comes on and I'm instantly cheered up! So nothing makes me want to sing more then one of their songs. And my fav?? Everybody (Backstreet's Back) I even could do the dance! And this song always reminds me of the first BSB concert I went to, even though I've been to hundreds more since then.

I linked up with Not Just Another Mom of Twins and Because I'm the Mommy, the two people behind Songs That Make Us Sing Saturday. Check out their blogs, and share what song makes you wanna sing!

Remember When?

I remember when.....

People wore slap bracelets and Bart Simpson t-shirts.

I had my first kiss.

I found out I was pregnant with my first child.

Rap was about more then booty.

I found out I was pregnant with my second child.

We didn't have to lock our doors.

I'd take coffee to school in the 6th grade.

Alternative meant flannels and Kurt Cobain.

I got detention for the first time.

Gas was $2.

I caught lightning bugs in jars.

NKOTB was huge.

The Showplace Theater showed movies.

Being threatened I'd get sent to Father Baker.

People pinned and rolled their pants.

Prom night/graduation/Senior breakfast.

The original Thunder Cats, He Man, GI Joe, Smurfs, and the Snorks.

Writing for the Buffalo News.

Summer meant three months of being outdoors.

I fell off of a horse.

Cross colors.

I first met my husband.

MTV played music videos.

The POS broke my heart.

The Challenger exploded.

"If it doesn't fit,you must acquit."

Teased hair and AquaNet.

Scrunchies.

The Ozone didn't have such a big hole.

Kids worked out their differences by fighting, not shooting.

Mmm Bop.

What do you remember?

Writer's Workshop - Don't Ask, Don't Tell

I love my husband. I do. But my poor, sweet, honest husband has had to learn a thing or two about the little white lie. Like he should use it. Often. For the sanity of our relationship, here's ten things that I have decided are the hot button topics that no matter what his answer is, he is guaranteed a night on the couch, or I will be guaranteed to have a "headache."

1. Does this dress make me look fat? Obviously if I'm asking him this, I feel fat. But my husband is a nice, honest guy. You can guess where his honesty landed him!

2. Don't you remember I said that already? If I'm repeating myself, no, he didn't remember. And then I get all angry because I think he doesn't pay attention to me, and then he winds up  on the couch.

3. Can we stop and ask for directions? Before smart phones that slice and dice and are GPS ready, we got lost. A lot. And hubby says he knows where he's going, and it's just up ahead. Two hours later, we're in Pittsburgh.

4. Do you want to go shopping with me? No man likes to go shopping. I can't think of any other question that will make him run screaming from the room like that!

5. Have you seen the credit card? Unlike the hubs, I am a shopper. I love the mall. And he knows if I'm trying to hunt down the credit card, he's going to have a heart attack when the bill comes next month.

6. and 7. Aren't you done yet? You're done already? Enough said.

8. Did you forget today's our anniversary/Valentines day/etc? What is it about guys? They can remember who threw the fastest curve ball to score the touchdown. (I know, I totally just mixed sports didn't I?) But when it comes to remembering your anniversary...."I thought it was tomorrow." DOH!

9. Do you think <insert famous singer/actress name here> is prettier then me? You really don't want the answer to this. I have thankfully never asked this, but I could only imagine how long the hubs would be couch bound if I did and didn't like the answer!

10. Is that a grey hair? Totally mean, and not appreciated. But, I got him back. The hubs is going to be thirty-seven this year, and he gets the heebie jeebies when I joke that he's like the crypt keeper!

Mama Kat totally inspires me, and got me out of the school books again!

Writer's Workshop - The Bucket List

I am 31 years old.

And I've never.....

1. Climbed Mt Kilimanjaro.



2. Traveled cross country.

3. Taken a cruise. (Do you see a travel theme here?)

4. Learned to speak Chinese.

5. Rode the white water rapids.

6. Been on a roller coaster and not been scared.



7. Gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

8. Eaten blowfish.

9. Told someone's Achy Breaky Heart anything.

10. Watched a scary movie in the dark.

11. Learned to swim.

12. Found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.



13. Learned the dougie.

14. Found an oasis in the desert.

15. Helped a women give birth in an elevator.

16. Seen Ryan Gosling naked. (YUM!)

17. Run with the bulls.



18. Laughed so hard I spit something out of my nose.

19. Figured out what O.P.P. meant.

20. Streaked.

21. Met a queen. Or a princess. Or some lowly third cousin removed from royalty.

22. Been happier then I am right now.

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop does it again!! She is awesomely inspiring! Or maybe I'm just trying to avoid homework.

Writer's Workshop-I'm from where????

I am from road trips to a Wonderland, and Coring, Finger Lakes and shrines, from Aqua Net and dresses for every occasion.

I am from the the ranch house where the wood crests that has no less then 200 lights for Christmas or Halloween, shining brightly in my bedroom window so I could stay up all night and read.

I am from gardens full of flowers, and a mom who still believes she has to yell at them to make them grow bigger, from weeping willows and potted trees.

I am from all day Christmases, and all day Thanksgivings, and all day Easters and curly hair, from Richard and Ludy, John and Genevieve.

I am from playtime imagination and hard work because of love. I am from stubbornness, and laughter and comedy and books.

From "If you don't listen you'll go to Father Baker's," and "Yes honey, your stuffies do come to life at night and play while you're sleeping. But if you don't go to sleep then they won't get to play." From words in Tagalog that I still don't know what they mean, but I know by my mom's tone they can't be good.

I am from Catholicism, and communion, but mostly from atheism. He stopped listening, and I stopped talking.

I’m from Sabres land, and a correspondence course that connected perogies to Imelda Marcos. Carrot cake and lumpias. Burning my mouth on hot out of the oil, better then an egg roll lumpias, and begging for more.

From the scar on my knee from when I was six, trying on all of my mom's high heeled shoes, the clack of the heel striking the tile, and the way my dad rushed to my side because I was crying. From a kiss and a band aid that made me get back up and do it all over again, with the same results.

I am from the largest cabinet collection of photo albums known to man, crafted carefully by my mother, who took pictures of every movement, in case we forget. From a ten gallon Tupperware container full of yearbooks, notes. letters, pictures, dried flowers, and every newspaper article I wrote. From a hallway that chronicles the sweetest moments.

I am from a family that loves and fights and loves some more.

Thanks to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop for making me want to put down my homework and write about something that did not involve the legal system!

School Year Blues

It's almost the end of July. Which means the end of August is only a few short weeks away. And you know what that means is right round the corner...

That's right. The first day of school.

#1 is going to the 7th grade this year, so this is a routine we know very well. The school supply scramble. The sifting thru clothes, figuring out what new outfits he needs. Trying to get him back into a routine of going to bed early, etc. By now, we're pros.

What I never knew I'd have to deal with is other people's kids. Last year was #1's first year in middle school. And his first year being bullied. Some was from older kids, you know, the I'm in 8th grade so I'm just so cool type. But some was from kids he had classes with, or waited for the bus with. Some was kids being stupid, but some was flat out mean.

There wasn't alot. But there was enough.

We've always taught him that violence is not the answer,and you're nice to everyone no matter what. But last year is the first year that we had to have a bigger talk with him. How there are kids that are just mean, and they just want attention, and the best thing to do is ignore them. We've taught him the difference between stupid mean and mean mean. And while I won't let him see it, it takes every restraint I have not to go hunt down those kids and kick some 6th grade booty! I know that would defeat the whole violence is not the answer speech, but my momma bear instincts want to teach those meanies a lesson!

I know I can't fight his battles for him. But how can I not look at my baby, my first, my oldest, my sweet and funny and caring child, and not want to pop him in a bubble?

It breaks my heart seeing him frustrated and upset because some kid didn't like his backpack. I know that he'll find out about the world, and all the different people in it sooner or later, but why does it have to be sooner instead of later?

But that leaves us at a crossroads. Do we continue to push the "ignore them?" Or do we teach him what to do if, and that's a big IF, someone one day crosses the line? The hubs says yes. I'm less sure.

What would you do if it was your child?

The Restaurant and The Mob

We have become that family that other people glare at when we go out to eat. That's right, we're the parents of a two year old.

I don't know what it is about restaurants. #2 can be a completely happy and wonderful baby before hand. Like this:

But as soon as we cross the doors of a restaurant he is a rowdy, riled up,screeches his head off, demon child. (I'd show you a picture, but I had my hands full trying to calm him down!)

This isn't our first time at the rodeo. We battled two year old toughness before. But maybe it's because we've gotten older, or maybe #2 is a new breed of toddler that's going to conquer the world by screeching us to death.

We bring toys, and our phones, keys, his blankie, at least two stuffies...and we got nothing. He won't sit in his high chair. He doesn't want to sit at the table. He doesn't want to eat, but he doesn't want the food to be taken away. He doesn't want the waitresses to come over. He also doesn't want them to stay away.  And he his very..eh hem...vocal..about what he wants.

Which in turn leads people to stare. And I get it, I do. They wanted to come out and enjoy a nice meal, and my child keeps throwing his french fries at them and screaming (I'm exaggerating....but only about the french fries.)

But people don't just stare. They roll their eyes and give us dirty looks. Which I think is a little uncalled for. Have they ever been around a toddler? Sometimes they just have to wail. For whatever reason it just so happens to always be when we're out to dinner, but still.  I totally give the dirty looks back, but am I expecting too much to think people could be more understanding? Or at lest less rude? I don't glare at the other moms, dads and baby sitters with the screaming children because I've been there! I feel your pain! Shouldn't people extend the same?

What do you think? Have you been caught out in public between a crying little person and a mob of angry glarers?