Adios August

In August:

We stole time for ourselves.

And took a trip that we didn't even know we needed.

I let loose just a bit.

I'm pretty sure we fell in love with each other again.

It was about damn time.

I learned that laughter really is the best medicine.

It can save you from yourself.

It can also ease some serious pain.

We took advantage of Target's back to school dorm essentials.

Even if dorm life is eons away.

Eons meaning twelve years.

12.

Cue the water works now.

We learned that sometimes you just have to use fro-yo as a bribe.

We can go to fro-yo if you take a bath.

Because baths are always a chore in August.

We started dance classes in leotards that were a tad too big.

In tiny tap shoes.

In miniture ballet shoes.

It was seriously cuteness overload.

I saw myself in print.

Artful Blogging did a feature on Elevate.

And there I am.

I made a promise to myself that this was just the beginning.

Someone started preschool.

And didn't really like it.

Like most things in our life, 

school is a work in progress.

I made cake pops for a going away party.

They look happy and cheerful but they are crying on the inside.

Because no one wants to say good bye to good neighbors

who become part of your extended family.

We said good-bye to some of the best neighbors we have ever had.

It was sad and tearful.

Here we are, the sister wives.

Someone started first grade.

Someone also started to look like a teenager.

And Mommy had a lump in her throat the entire month.

In August I had the time of my life.

I lived, I loved, I let loose.

We milked August for all it was worth.

Adios August,

you were so good to me.

To my family.

To my life.

Cactus Panties {Brazillian Wax recap}

A week ago, I was ready to sing the praises of the Brazilian wax.  I had gone through all of the comments on my Raw Chicken post via email, and felt that maybe I had led all of you in the wrong direction.  Maybe I had judged my raw chicken too quickly.  Perhaps I was just blinded by the pain to really weigh the benefits of the raw chicken.  I even alluded to just how "o"-mazing the benefits of the wax could be (multiple times over if you catch my drift) in my Vegas recap post.  So I felt like I needed to come back and do what my BF called an Editors Revision.  Because I will always tell it to you straight.  I will always be completely honest.
And honestly I woke up two days ago with a cactus between my legs.

For the love of all things holy.  Remember when I said that I got waxed in places I didn't know had hair?  Well guess what, that hair is coming back.  And it's angry.  It's exacting revenge. It's making me hate the idea of the Brazilian Wax all over again.  
I feel like my vajay has multiple personalities at this point.  First she hates the Brazilian.  Then a few days in she loves it.  Now we are back to the hate.  Regardless, I will forever stand by the fact that the wax itself feels like hot molten lava on your lady bits.  Apparently according to Heather on this post at Baby Central Blogs, the wax should be warm, and not scalding.  Could it be I just had a bad wax experience?  Maybe.  But just remember no matter how hot the lava, that shit still has to get ripped off.  You will also have to do some crazy yoga acrobatics, and your aesthetician will almost give you a PAP.  All of those facts together make it quite the experience for you and your vajay. 
These 5 facts I uncovered about the Brazilian Wax are still true: One:  Bitches who say Brazilian waxes aren't that bad are liars.
Two: People who do wax vajays in such a way should also be licensed to do pap smears.   I mean, when in Rome...
Three: Neither my husband nor my OBGYN have gone to the places the waxing lady went to on Tuesday.  Like seriously I didn't even know there was hair there.
Four:  Brazilian wax literally means from your belly button to your tail bone.  Hence the downward facing dog requirement.
Five:  Brazilian waxes were invented by bored rich white women who needed another beauty treatment to add to their routine.  They are also the women who bleach their butt holes.

Now I will admit that the Brazilian has it's benefits.  I didn't have to worry about my bikini line.  Or any line for that matter.  It made the husband very happy.  Very happy.  Like shop in Vegas, let's get a limo, let's pretend we are in college happy.  It made my vagina happy.  For reals.  The wax hurt like a bitch because that area is very sensitive.  Well take away the buffer of hair, and that area is like infinity times more sensitive.  My vagina was as blissful as her formerly 22 year old self.  She forgot how fun she could be.  So despite the pain, I was completely on board to do it all over again.
Until two days ago.  My gal Kristin asked me if the itching had started.  Uh, yeah.  And there is nothing graceful or lady like about itchy vajay.  Feeling like I'm sitting on a cactus pillow, is serious business.  It taint nothing to joke about.  Ok, that was a cheap way to make you laugh, but it's what I really wanted to title this post.  Then I remembered I'm a classy lady, if only in my mind.
So I'm sorry if I steered you all in the wrong direction.  Brazilian waxes are still the biggest conspiracy in the the history of vaginas.  At least in my opinion.  I have decided to stick by my original stance and say that I hate them, and they are the devil.  And I don't really believe that women actually like them, they just tolerate them for their benefits.  That said, I'm scheduling my next one.  No I'm not crazy, but I like the benefits.  The Hubbs likes the benefits.  I'm way too lazy to DIY this kind of shaz.  I'm also hoping it won't always be so bad (regardless of the downward facing dog).  And finally I'm going back for another, because despite my vajay's outward appearance, she feels like a new woman.
Until then I'll be over here with my arm up my maxi dress. Like the classy bitch I am.

It's Kid's Bop Bitch...

That's right.  Kid's Bop.  The one thing I swore I would never give into.  The commercials I would scoff at.  Oh, Kid's Bop, are you crazy?  My music is sacred.  Music in general is sacred.  How dare you let some little kids butcher top 40 hits into happy campfire fodder. How how very naive I once was.

Image via Google

Everything in your life changes with motherhood.  Your look on life.  Your hopes, your dreams, your tasted in music?  Well my taste in music didn't actually change.  It was just put on hold for a few years while I was subjected to The Wiggles, Dora the Explorer Live, and most recently, the Shake it Up soundtrack.  My BF would call and tell me about the awesome new CD she was listening to and I had no idea what she was talking about.  Because my kids didn't do regular music.  They could not abide by the radio stations.  They had melt downs about Pandora.
Then one day during an extremely long commercial break on Nickelodeon, Caitlin saw the commercial for Kid's Bop.  And my music world came tumbling down around my toy littered living room.
So like any good mother, who gives her children what ever they want, I bought a Kid's Bop CD. And the world didn't burn.
The world started dancing.

Image Via Google

You see, my kids LOVE this CD.  Like let's play Thrift Shop 10 times on the way to Target.  Mackenzie loves Suit and Tie, and requests it along with I Love It, by Icona Pop.  Which makes me the happiest mom this side of Rolling Stone Magazine.  Ok, I know that the lyrics have been changed.  Some in major ways.  I know that 12 year olds are singing about things they know nothing about.  I know that I said I would never, ever Kid's Bop, but like most things in motherhood, never say never!
Here is where I knew I had totally lost my young, hip, cool mom status.  On our recent trip to Vegas I was surprised at how many songs I could actually sing along.  I was sitting in a strip club, no joke, and recognized a song, looked up at the big screen and realized it was Brittney effing Spears.  What the what?  I knew and could identify the song because I had heard it on a Kid's Bop CD.  Holy shitballs.  Then of course I couldn't stop laughing because I kept saying  It's Kids Bop Bitch, in my head.   Confirming my status as the mom who dances to 'what the kids are listening too these days'.  
Sunday night was the MTV VMAs, and my BF posted on Facebook that she was so happy she could turn on the VMAs and still know who was performing and winning awards.  I know how she feels.  I felt the same way, except I was also embarrassed because I love them via Kid's Bop.  When I told her that she said that part of her was dying inside.  I had to agree.  Then she said that poor Macklemore's soul was probably burning because his song was being sung by toddlers and small children everywhere.
She's right. But I'm singing along too. In the most uncoolest of mommy ways. I may never be cool again.

A Summer of Firsts

Why is it that when your five year old turns six, the world suddenly changes? Life is nothing like it was this time last year. No year ever is, but there is something to be said about that magical year, when your baby isn't a baby anymore.
Before this summer we knew nothing of the joy of a lost tooth. The smile with a window. The excitement and anticipation of a Tooth Fairy Visit. We knew nothing of the pride one can have when you pull a tooth out yourself. And are rewarded for your efforts.

It was a summer to make major decisions. To pierce or not to pierce. That was the question. And the day we turned six we made the decision. With hesitation from Daddy of course. And tears for less than a minute.

This summer was a summer to take chances. Did we have the gumption to try a bike without training wheels? Could we keep trying, pushing through the fear? How long would it take to ride a bike like the big kids? An hour. It took an hour to go from training wheels to two wheeler.

This was a summer to try new things. To conquer fears head on. The movie theater seemed an impossible goal. Always sensitive to sound. Forever afraid of the dark. But we were determined to make this the summer of firsts. So with cotton in Mommy's purse and a Dr. Pepper in our hand, we took a chance on Planes. With wide eyes we got through the previews. With wider eyes we watched our feature. And before the movie was over, a little voiced whispered, Can we come back for Smurfs 2?

Absolutely.
Because a summer of firsts is just the beginning of a life time of memories.

Some TGIF realness {back to school}

I could have sat down yesterday and wrote a really fantastic and upbeat post about the first days of school.  With pictures and stories about how well the girls did and how wonderful life is, and how perfect it all seems.  And blah, blah, effing blah.
Truth is, I spent 3 hours off and on my laptop yesterday tackling comments and emails, while Mackenzie slept off her fever.  Yeah, that's right I said fever, because if you don't bring home germs after the first day of school then you obviously aren't doing it right.
So writing a positive post wasn't in the cards for yesterday. Or today.
Let me break it down:

On the left the first day of kindergarten
On the right the first day of first grade

I didn't realize that Caitlin had gotten so big, until I posted this side by side.  I mean really, what happened?  She went from this tiny little girl to almost teenager overnight.  Well not really.  An entire school year, and then an entire summer.  First grade is the sign that tells you that you can't turn back.  That those baby moments are over.  And while she still needs me to help her put on her shoes, or open her bottle of water, she needs me less and less these days.  It's the kind of realization that kind of makes you sad, and makes you want to stop time.  It's also a great reminder to really enjoy all the moments.  Even the ones filled with tears and bad attitudes.  Because that's also part of the first grade package.  

The big morning of our first day.
Sadly she wouldn't stay this excited about school.

So excited for school.  Half excited for pictures.  The awful part is that she is no longer exited for school. It looks like all day at preschool is way to long for Mac.  I have to remind myself that despite her extensive vocabulary, her DIY attitude, and her request to go to school; actually going to school for close to 6 hours is a lot for a 3 year old.  I did feel a little guilty on the first day of school when I picked up a close to hysterical Mac.  She had been crying on and off since nap time.  I mean, I did spend the entire morning doing what I wanted, selfishly and almost defiantly.  Yet at the same time I feel like this is one of those, life lessons, those she will get used to it moments.  So we are not giving up just yet, but we are switching to half days.  Because eventually school will be a have to, and not a want to.

We survived our first week.  Fever and all.  There were still tears in the mornings, from both girls.  Trying to convince a 3 year old that school is fun is never an easy task when her tears bring on your tears.  Even the big play ground and the promise of seeing older friends at recess do little to quell Caitlin's silent steady tears.  I guess the tears should comfort me and remind me that my girls are still little, but they don't.  They make me sad, and a little guilt ridden. 

TGIF people!

This week was hard.  And I didn't want to lie about that.  I didn't want to come here and pretend that every morning was glorious.  That we were on time and that we ate all our breakfast in a timely and orderly fashion.  I didn't want to say, that despite 110 degrees on Monday we were happy go lucky.  We weren't.  I didn't want to say that I've on top of my game.  Because I'm not and the sink has this God awful smell and I'm pretty sure it's my cue to do the dishes.  

What I wanted to say is that Back to School happens.  That icees at Target after school and before dinner happen.  I wanted to say that no shower and 2 day hair, with unshaven legs under a maxi dress, absolutely happen on the 4th day of the new school year.  Even though you promised yourself they wouldn't.  I wanted to say that fast food dinners don't equal defeat.  And that thanking your starts that your kid actually wants to eat "hot lunch", so you don't have to pack a lunch is totally acceptable.

What I wanted to say is that we made it to Friday.

Thank God we made it to Friday.

Looks like me and Kristine were on the same page this Friday! Check out her post, that I swear I didn't even see until this on was written! Great minds Kristine Foley!

Ye of little faith

I have a confession to make.
Prior to my Las Vegas getaway, I didn't believe in date night. I loathed all the date night pictures on Instagram. I mean, really, you like your husband that much? Who does that?
Maybe it was envy. Maybe it was because I always come up with excuses. Maybe it was because I hadn't let loose in years.
Well readers and friends, I was wrong.
You see that Hubbs? I said I was WRONG. About date nights, just date nights.
I digress.

As evidenced by my Instagram feed, my Las Vegas getaway was fun. It was more than fun, it was amazing, exciting, glamorous, stimulating... It was refreshing and relaxing. It was everything my marriage needed and more.
Because we really have forgotten how to be John and Megan. Because our days are filled with being Mommy and Daddy,  or Absolute Mommy and The Hubbs. We got to Vegas and suddenly we were us again. The relaxed and affectionate us. The let's got to be at 3 in the afternoon us. The let's stay out all night us. Those two haven't been around in years.
My marriage needed those four days.
Mornings that were spent in bed, no one demanding mini pancakes, no one calling "I'm done" from the potty.  Mornings that were slow to start, with breakfast in bed, quiet conversation and dare I say, more?  Afternoons spent out, shopping or drinking.  Not a care in the world.  No schedule, no dance classes, no late afternoon tantrums.  Evenings spent dancing, singing along to music, having dinner and not worrying about spilled drinks and cutting up hot dogs.  And while we went on this trip with friends, the two of us, The Hubbs and I, were able to reconnect in a real way.  To remember what it was like seven years ago when it was just us.  To remember what it was like when we first met.  Those two college kids that could not get enough of each other.  Who spent their days and nights filled with booze and laughter and stolen kisses.  To remember that at one time we liked each other best.
 Now I believe in date night. I believe in second and third honeymoons. I believe that at some point you have to remember what it was like to love your husband recklessly and messily.
Even if you have to schedule the time to do it.

And the battle continues

Our Saturdays are now filled with dance classes.
And sometimes smiles

Some relationships are a constant battle.  A journey.  More marathon than sprint.  Some relationships no matter how hard you try, are still going to be a trial on your heart.  This is still my lament with my oldest daughter.
Saturday morning was filled with tears and shouts and parenting tactical maneuvers. We should have gone to bed earlier on Friday night. We should have set our alarms earlier for Saturday morning. We should have started our morning with cuddles instead of shouts and tears. We should have, we should have, we should have...
Instead we cried about brushing our teeth too hard and drawing blood from a tooth that refuses to come out.  We cried about having to wear our hair in a braid.  We cried about having to wear socks with our shoes.  We cried about having to eat a granola bar in the car instead of cereal at the table.  We cried because we had to hurry, we cried because we were crying, we cried because mommy had her mad face.
While I watched my oldest in her dance class, I reminded myself, and prepared myself for the many Saturdays to come.  I reminded myself that life with this one has always been a battle.  Since the countless efforts to breastfeed, sleep train, to drop off at preschool.  There has been a battle at every turn, a challenge to climb every mountain.  From the very beginning I have been quick to lose my temper, quick to throw in the towel, quick to admit defeat.  Defeat in motherhood and defeat in myself.  From the very beginning I have wanted perfection, in an inhumane and absolute way.  And yet, after all these years, all the experiences, all the battles, I still for some reason expect more.  More from her and more from me.  How can it be that I still have not learned this one lesson?
Caitlin in my challenging child.  She is more like me than she will ever know.  She sets her expectations so high, just like her Mommy.  The problem is that her expectations and my expectations don't ever align.  I'm learning.  I'm trying to identify that.  I'm trying to accept that.  I love her.  I love her in a way that is so astonishing and so selfless, it's frightening.  I love her in a way that I want to be perfect for her, I want to make things perfect for her.  After all this time, I'm sure that this will be my battle for the rest of her life.  It's perhaps this battle that drives the other battles we tend to set before us.  Caitlin is my challenging child, but it's not her fault, I think it's mine.
I took a picture of her after dance because I wanted to remember the morning.  Even though it wasn't one of our better ones.  I want to remember the battles.  I want to remember how I felt.  I want to have it to remind myself that with all the tears and loud voices, I am still blessed to have this amazing girl in my life.  That life has been just that since the day she was born, amazing.  Caitlin and I have had our dark days, we've had some bright days, we've had some blessed days.  I took a picture and thought, this is perfect, this is what perfect should look like.  Because only you, yourself, can define perfection.
And on Saturday I needed the reminder.  

School makes the heart grow fonder

  School started yesterday.  For both girls.  I dropped Mac at Preschool and then Caitlin to first grade.  All before nine o'clock in the morning.  You want to know what I did?   Nothing.  

Yes, I bought this and read it.
Without interruption.

  That's right.  Nothing.  I went home.  I ate breakfast in silence.  No one asked for more iced tea.  No one said they hated waffles or pancakes or both.  I sat in the recliner in front of our TV, and while CNN droned in the background I played Candy Crush on my phone.  Then I happened upon a documentary, and I watched it, in it's entirety, with swear words and live births and all.  Then I went to Walmart, and did not, I repeat, did not walk down one single toy aisle.  I bought the newest People Mag, not because Kate was on it, but because I knew I could read it, from cover to cover, in one hour.  And I did.   

Mac's first day WIW picture

  It's been a long time since I've had a guilt free spare moment.  One that I enjoyed recklessly.  With dishes in the sink, and laundry waiting to fold.  It's been years since I watched anything other than Nick Jr that early in the morning.  I was so at a loss at mid day, I almost watched reruns of Jessie on the Disney channel.  What's even on daytime TV anymore?  And while my heart is forever tied to my little lovelies, that small, sweet taste of freedom was blissful.  A few moments all for me.  I didn't even blog or check my email.  I just sat, and savored, and enjoyed it.   There is something to be said for finally finding your independence.  Even admitting that you want an ounce of independence while you are a mother is a novel idea.  Who would admit that?  Well, me.  I'm admitting it.  It's only taken about six years to finally say, that there are days where it's would be nice to think just for myself again.  As moms, we rarely think for ourselves.  We are always a second thought, third if we are feeling cordial towards our spouses.  For all the days where you are the boss, the leader, the nurse, the taxi driver, the chef, the maid; there is something sweet about being all of those things to just yourself.  I'm sure independence looks different on everyone.  Just like motherhood, we all carry our own lose definition.  But it's just as sweet, no matter what it looks like.  

Caitlin's first day WIW pic
Hair pretties by Kristine at The Foley Fam Unedited

  The best part of yesterday was that after school was not overwhelming.  I was ready for them to come home.  My living room didn't look like it's usual disaster area.  Dinner was prepped.  Groceries were not a task to still be tackled.  I was overjoyed to have my girls back home.  Even when they started fighting over the iPad less than an hour after arriving home.  Because absence really does make the heart grow fonder.  Back to school gave me a chance to regroup.  To be ready for a long day and night while Daddy travels for work.  To not have to tackle 110 things after the school bell rings.  To take some time to read a book, watch a movie, and eat a meal, with and without my girls.   Today, I have done more of the same.  And yet today seems harder to really enjoy those moments bliss.  I had dishes to do, and laundry to fold.  Mac cried this morning, I guess she's not quite sure about this school thing.  I've got the post office on the agenda, and a trip for new ballet shoes.  Yet, I'm here, almost guiltily.  Enjoying the quiet while I write.  Savoring the last few bits of me time before afterschool pick up.  Because I've only got about two more hours of thinking for myself.   Except, any mom knows, I'm only thinking about my kids.     PS: I try to respond to my comments via email. I'm slowing working on that. But I have read every one, love that you comment, and will respond. Soon.

The things you learn

Caitlin and 3 day old Mac
April 2010

As you read this, I'm dropping both my babies at school.  Caitlin starts first grade, and Mackenzie has decided that she must go to Preschool.  So instead of arguing with Miss Mac (which is a losing battle), we decided to send her, a year earlier than we planned.  She will only go 2 days a week, but even that is pulling at my heart strings.  It's the ultimate cliche, but time, it flies, it leaps, it gallops, it races.  And you are unable to stop it.
I recently posted that picture to Instagram to share a guest post.  It captures a day I will forever remember.  The memory is still so fresh, that I know that it's close to 7:30 in the morning.  Caitlin is eating a cookie that is almost as big as her head.  Her sippy cup holds sweet iced tea.  She is wearing her most prized possession, Panda PJs, that she refused to take off for an entire month.  So I went to Costco three days into that phase and bought 5 pairs.  And yes, she wore them around the clock for close to a month.  I was pregnant, sue me.  I know that Mackenzie has just had a bottle, that she needs her cap to keep up her body temp, that I shouldn't put her in a boppy like that.  I also know that I didn't care.  I was in survival mode.  I was 3 days post pardum, after suffering a post pardum hemorrhage, and losing almost 2 pints of blood.  I was weak, I was emotional, and I was nervous.  I wasn't prepared for any of it.  Not the hemorrhage, not the PJs, and not the task of mothering two children.  I know that now, because about 2 hours after this picture was taken, I completely lost myself.  I made a mountain out of a mole hill, and I yelled and fought with a two year old.  Why did I loose my cool?  I don't remember, but I'm sure it had to do with a mess, or a spilled sippy, or being loud while her sister slept.   It wasn't a good reason to loose my cool, but I did.   And it was a lesson to be learned.
I find the toughest lessons to learn in motherhood aren't the big ones.  They aren't the lessons on bedtime, or feeding schedules.  They aren't lessons on multitasking or chore charts or discipline.  They are the little things you learn about yourself and about your children.
You learn that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches don't mean defeat at dinner. You learn that you really can eat grilled cheese for breakfast every day for two weeks. You learn that Panda PJs are fashionable everywhere if you are under 3. You learn that sometimes fast food is just easier and cleaner (no dishes). You learn that sometimes going to Target is more important than laundry. You learn that your way isn't the right way for everyone,  but the right way for you.
You learn that no matter how old your children get, they are still your babies. They are still little to you. And even when you drop them off at college, they will still be those babies in the picture, of that day you will never forget.

10 on 10 {Vegas}

I've been wanting to attempt a 10 on 10 for awhile.  I follow a few peeps on Instagram that are so faithful in their 10 on 10s. Me, I usually remember half way through the day when I check my Instagram.  My favorite 10 on 10er is Honey Holden.  Check her out.  She is the real deal.
Back to my 10 on 10.  Ten pictures on the tenth of the month.  Seems easy, until you forget you started the whole thing.  I figured with Vegas as my back drop it should be pretty easy.  It was and it wasn't.  Plus I had to explain to my traveling companions exactly what I was doing, and why it was important to the Instagramming blogger in my heart.  It was really fun, and kind of like a day in the life.  I'm sure you've seen them, but here they are again. Because if it's not on your blog, it may as well never happened.

top left to right: Smoky eye the morning after.  Sexy am I right? The Starbucks baristas hard at work in our hotel. The picture that should have been the first 10 on 10 picture  since it was taken well after midnight on the 10th.
middle left to right: Lunch and some retail therapy. My first Izze of the day, while waiting in line for  a sandwich for the Hubbs. Meow meow phone case and an all black ensemble for a beach party
bottom left to right: Selfies with the Hubbs because we remembered we  really do like each other. The buckets of beer that turned a low key beach party night  into a limo/strip club night. Don't ask... Our group that took Vegas by storm.

My final picture for 10 on 10.

Because we are rarely serious.

Because this trip restored our faith in 

marriage, love, romance, and us.

Because I love making him take pictures with me, 

more that I love making him hold my hand.

Did you post a 10 on 10? Leave your link in the comments.

Vegas Baby {the Hangover}

  Still in recovery from my wild Vegas weekend. There is a reason why I don't stay up until 5 am anymore. There are reasons why I shouldn't drink, even a little bit. There are reasons why I should take yoga for flexibility... But you know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Unless you are on Instagram.  

 

Airport selfies.

Thanks to my neighbor Jess for the picture.

We are so excited!

 

More selfies in Downtown Vegas.

Yes, the Hubbs is licking my teeth.

Sexy right?

 

After a friend on Instagram commented that I was drinking water in Vegas,

I felt I had to at least try a drink.

If you are new here, I don't drink because I'm not supposed to due to health reasons.

What the hell, I was in Vegas.

It didn't go well.

But I didn't get sick, so yeah for that!

 

 

Don't Stop Believin'.

It was our first night in Vegas and we went all out.

Hubbs is still mad about being caught on video.

Whatevs, isn't he cute?

 

 

When in Vegas you are supposed to go shopping.

And buy things like kitty meow meow phone covers.

Totally appropriate.

 

 

These are my neighbors.

Aren't they pretty.

And the best damn bitches around.

Seriously this trip was amazing because they were there!

Inappropriate texting is included with this friendship.

I love them!

 

 

This was at a restaurant called Dick's Last Resort.

It's where the servers are rude to you, and make fun of you.

It's pretty obvious that our server reads this blog.

Ask me more about my vagina why don't you!

 

Waiting for our ride to the "club".

The "gentleman's" club if you will...

It was a blast.

The Hubbs' smile is hiding the fact that he HATES selfies.

But with more Vodka Red Bulls he complies.

 

See.

Totally compliant with the selfies.

 

Here we are at a dance club.

Where tops are mandatory,

unlike the club from earlier in the night.

And yes, we are having a blast.

I danced on those super tall wedges I bought all night.

Didn't fall on my ass one time.

They were fabulous until 2:20 am when I had to take them off.

Because I was either going to die, or my feet were going to fall off.

 

More selfies while we wait for the beach party at Mandalay Bay.

This is the Hubbs' hurry this selfie crap up face.

Sorry love, but Instagram loves you.

I've actually told him that he is huge on Instagram and he doesn't believe me!

 

These are some of my favorite people!

This was our going away party weekend for Jeska and Tony on the left.

They are moving to the Bay Area and breaking up the band.

But this weekend proved that we are going to be friends for life.

I see lots of trips to the Bay in our future!

 

These are my neighbors.

We were in this little bar in the middle of Mandalay Bay.

The music was awesome.

The people were amazing.

And we shut it down!

In our beach attire of course!

My BF asked me if we had this much fun...

Yes, we absolutely did!

 

 

This is me.

Sad because we are leaving Vegas.

I don't want to go home.

I want to go to the room, take a nap, and do it all over again.

Who's ready?

 

Bye Bye Vegas.

We may have to cancel Christmas,

but damn you were fun!!

 

Vegas did wonders for my marriage.

Because after eight, yes EIGHT, years you sometimes forget.

You forget that in the beginning you were two college students who

couldn't get enough of each other.

You forget that you really do like each other.

You forget that your marriage is just an excuse to hang out

with that one person who makes your life totally worth living.

        If you are looking for an Instagram link up, check out Jeanette!