Wore: Vegas {plus a chicken update}

  If you haven't heard, I was in Vegas last weekend. It was amazing. For me. For my marriage. For my life.   So of course I'm here to update you on the most important parts of the trip. What I wore. Because isn't that the cardinal rule of blogging? That I document every outfit on Instagram? And before you leave this post, because you are completely over me, my Vegas trip, and what I wore posts in general, I have an update on the chicken... So stay until the end because you don't want to miss it.   Let's start with the prep that was involved just to get to Vegas. Look, it's been years since I've dressed up or worn make up consistently. I needed a lot of work if I'm being honest!  

  Grays had to be covered. Toes had to be painted. Fingers had to be prettied. And vaginas had to be waxed. I have to say, I've gotten used to this polished and pampered life. If I had the opportunity I would totally keep this up!!  

  Bottom right:  Pink and taupe chevron maxi by KikiLaRue.  It's amazing, like a really classy nightgown. So comfy and cool. I would live in it if I could.   Bottom Left: White tank, jean shorts, and water. Yes, water, because I don't really drink anymore. I didn't need alcohol to have fun either, you'll see in the days to come. We were downtown on the old strip, which is an event in itself.   Top right:  Dress from the Loft that my insta-peeps voted on. I loved that dress, but I will be honest and tell you that Spanx were in full effect, my hips don't lie. Also I rocked the smoky eye per the Hubbs request. I actually liked my smoky eye, it make me feel fancy. Plus my neighbors were quite impressed that I clean up so well. Because they see me in 3 day hair and yesterdays yoga pants most of the time.   Top left:  Black tank (hand me down) and a black mini from H&M that was $5.95. I'm also wearing a bathing suit under since we were going to a beach concert. Because Vegas has such things as a beach and a wave pool in the middle of the dessert, while one hit wonders from the 80s play their greatest hits. I'm not making that up. Not even a little.   Now for what you are really waiting for:   The Raw Chicken Update   I will forever stand by the fact that Brazilian waxes kill your vagina. As in hot molten lava flow on your under carriage. It's a fact. Getting your vagina ripped within an inch of her life is not fun.   Wanna know what is fun?
Everything else your vagina will do in Vegas without kids.   So I'm sorry if I turned so many of my dear readers off the idea of going raw chicken commando.   It's worth it.   Multiple times worth it, if you know what I mean...       PS: The Hubbs has requested that I stop talking about my vagina on this blog and on Instagram. I told him that's probably not going to happen.  

Chaos party of Four

In the early days of motherhood, going anywhere with my first born was anxiety inducing.  Friends would call for lunch dates, play dates, coffee dates, and breezily say, bring the baby.  Which would automatically make me go into a full blow panic attack.  Cold sweat, upset stomach, shaky hands.  Why on earth would anyone want me to leave the house?  Had they seen me?  I was a hot mess.  Most days I didn't even change my clothes.  I'd been known to wear the same yoga pants for three days.  And people thought I could handle lunch?  I could barely keep my head afloat let alone get a baby ready, myself ready, and then into the car.  Just getting her to her well baby checkups was equivalent to moving a mountain in my book.  So no, in the early days of motherhood, things like lunch, in a restaurant, just didn't happen.
What I didn't realize then was that, lots of people have children.  Their children are either grown, or their children are still small.  Whatever the case, most have sympathy and empathy for a new mom with a small child.  Sure a screaming baby in a Starbucks or a Red Robin will get you all kinds of stares from all different types of people.  Maybe they are stares of sympathy, like Oh, been there done that.  Perhaps they stare because they are relieved they aren't the only one who has a crying baby.  It took me years to realize that a crying baby in a restaurant isn't the worst thing in the world.

Booth shenanigans

A rowdy three year old, a very hungry and whiny six year old, and a mom who is worried that the world is staring at her, can be worse.  If you let it get to you.
It isn't so bad these days when the Crutchfields do lunch.  I've learned over the years and multiple trips to restaurants that kids are kids.  And I have to deal with it.
A couple of Saturdays ago, we (the four of us) stopped in at Elephant Bar for lunch.  We were all hungry, as it was two o'clock.  The Hubbs and I did the best we could to order appetizers and drinks to fill the kids bellies with something.  Of course before we could order we had to take a potty break.  Me and the two girls trying in vain not to touch the germy surfaces in the bathroom.  Then once we ordered, it was a game of Tetris to fit all the appetizer plates, kids cups, and adult cups on the table without a spill.  I was worried Mac would overturn her root beer and that Caitlin would over turn the plate of coconut shrimp.  Then when they finally brought our lunch, we had to negotiate the table surface again.  
And through it all my kids were loud.  Climbing on the booth, climbing under the booth, and sometimes climbing out of the booth.  Using their faux cry over crayons being lost in the dark abyss under the table.  Whining over things like the bread on the corn dog they demanded for lunch.  Asking for more fries, more soda, more more more.  Thankfully the booth was tucked in a corner.  Thankfully the restaurant by nature is dark.  Thankfully the only one who actually spilled the dipping sauces was me.   

Free sundaes on the kinds menu... LUCKIES!

In the old days, a lunch of this nature would have reduced me to tears.  It would have made me feel out of control, like a failure, like I just couldn't get this mothering thing right.  These days, lunch with the kids isn't as scary as it used to be.  It's the same anxiety ride as it always was.  The difference is that I'm way more relaxed.  I still care about the occasional stares, but now I know better.  They are not staring at me because I'm a bad mom, as I once thought.  Now they stare at me because, simply, I'm a mom, with kids who are sometimes pretty good lunch dates.

My epic Rom-Com

  I recently read a post by Lisa Jo Baker that was all about her love story.  Which she said was actually quite boring in comparison to the movies.  In the movies love stories are epic.  They are heart breaking and heart stopping.  The common theme of her "boring love story" was that, her husband, has "never run through an airport for me".  It got me thinking.  The Hubbs has never run through an airport for me either.   But does it mean we have a boring love story?   Does it mean our love story isn't epic?    I can't tell you how many times I complained that the Hubbs is unromantic.  He isn't one for mushy displays of affection.  He doesn't even like to hold hands.  He picks out really funny Hallmark cards, but has he ever left love notes around the house?  Rarely.  He can be spontaneous, he can be sweet, but would I ever classify our marriage as romantic?  Probably not.  But do I really need an epic love story like The Notebook?  Do I need tear jerking romance, or do I need Rom-Com romance?
I've decided, I need Rom-Com romance.  

Yes, that's him, flipping me off while he flies a kite for our children.

  Maybe he has never ran through an airport, but he gets my movie references.  Sunday at Costco, I wanted a watermelon.  The Hubbs was wrangling the children and pushing the cart, so I went over and picked up a huge watermelon myself.  It was heavy, and so as I walked back to the cart I said, "I carried a watermelon".  To which he replied, "Don't hurt yourself baby".  Now many of you may or may not understand this exchange.  If you do, then you know he wouldn't put me in a corner.  If you don't, then I know it's a little bit of romance between me and the Hubbs, that we can converse in movie quotes when the mood strikes us.   He may have never waited for me outside a church with his red convertible (Sixteen Candles), but he did once tell me he wanted to be my "Mr. Big".  This was as I was wearing designer shoes I had spent an entire paycheck on, and also while I was drinking a Cosmo.  This was during my Carrie Bradshaw phase, as you can tell.  To say I almost fell off my bar stool is an understatement.  Because we had broken up for the third time.  Because we had fought viciously and said somethings that we couldn't take back.  Because I knew, in my heart he was the one, it wasn't over for me, not by a long shot.   I took him up on that offer.

Last year we won a "serious dance" contest.
You couldn't crack a smile or you were out.
This is what marriage can do for you.

  The Hubbs didn't propose at the beach.  He didn't hide my ring in dessert.  He didn't send me on a scavenger hunt, have a professional photographer waiting in the wings, nor did he do it at a place that would remind me of our love.  He DID try and get me to go out of town, and I refused.  I was tired and whiny after working all week.  So he did what he needed to and proposed, well after midnight on a Saturday, as I walked out of the bathroom.  Toilet still flushing in the background, he was on one knee, ring box open.  And while I still laugh to this day, at our most unromantic proposal, it's still one of the best stories we have.  Plus it's totally poetic if you remember that the Hubbs sells toilets for a living.
The Hubbs would never write me every day for a year (The Notebook).  The man rarely writes a grocery list.  I get cards on my birthday and Mother's Day that are funny and perfectly from him, but he normally just signs them, but once, on my college graduation, he wrote me a real love note.  In my graduation card, he wrote the following (totally paraphrasing): being with you has been a roller coaster ride, and I hate roller coasters, but here I am, enjoying the ride.  He also bought me a diamond pendant, which he really couldn't afford at the time.  I held on to both so tightly, and never forgot his words.  Even when we broke up 4 months later, even when got back together and broke up again.  Even when years later, and 2 babies, and the mess of life took us to the brink and back, I never forgot those words.  Because I hate roller coasters too, but I'm still not willing to get off this ride.   The Hubbs never stood outside my bedroom window with a boom box playing In Your Eyes (which was a real life fantasy I had for a time).  He has been known to post 80s rocker love anthems to my Facbook wall in a boozy haze at 2 am.  He will always play "my jam" on the iPad, which is Midnight Train to Georgia.  The fact that he knows that makes me swoon.  He took me to a Blink 182 concert years ago, because he knew they were my absolute favorite, even though deep down he hates them with a passion.  He has even been known to sing along to Party in The USA and Call me Maybe with my girls, which if you are wondering, sets my heart afire.    

Who needs love letters when you have this over text.

  The Hubbs doesn't hold my hand, but he does take out the trash and clean the litter box.  He may not leave me love notes on the bathroom mirror, but he does text me pictures of hilarious shiz on the Chive.  He my not have read a single Harry Potter book, but he can quote the Prisoner of Azkaban like no body's business.  And not just the main character parts, but a particularly long scene featuring Sirius Black and Professor Lupin.  The Hubbs may hate posing for selfies, hate Instagram as a whole, and may never understand the importance of a WIW post, but he has read and commented on this blog a time or two.    I don't need the Hubbs to run through an airport.  I don't need him to hold a boom box over his head.  I don't even need him to write me a love letter every day for a year.  What I need is for him to love me anyway.  The house is a disaster, there is never dinner on the table, I practically keep Target in the black, and I hardly ever vacuum the house.  Some days I don't shower, I rarely wear make up, and I'm getting laugh lines and crows feet to go with my already graying hair.  My kids eat junk, they drink soda, and they are spoiled rotten.  And he does exactly what I need him too, he loves me anyway, he loves me despite all of these things, he loves me because of all of these things.  
 

  After reading Lisa Jo's post, and writing this one, I know for a fact that my love story is epic.  It's not the stuff Nicholas Sparks would write about, but it is the stuff Mindy Kaling or Tina Fey would write about.  It's romantic in the way knowing all the best lines in Mallrats is romantic.  It's an epic love story in the only way we know how to write it... With humor, laughter, and sarcasm.   
  Our story is the story of two people, who love each other despite the fact that one leaves all her crap on the kitchen counter (me),  and the other always turns off the AC in my car whenever he drives it (him).  My love story began on a boozy night in late July of 1999.  At a housewarming party I didn't want to go to, a party I wore a baseball cap and jeans, a party where I was convinced I would graduate college without finding Mr. Right.     It's the story of two people who couldn't stand each other when they met.     All the makings for an epic Rom-Com.   Think your love story is boring? Please read this post by Lisa Jo Baker. It will change your life and your marriage!

Making Wedding Dreams Come True: Wedding Photography Giveaway

Beautiful images from Laura Hernandez Photography
that could be yours!

Hello Loyal fans of Absolute Mommy.  As you read this I'm most likely in recovery mode after my first night in Las Vegas!  So while I take a little break from the blog, I wanted to share this amazing giveaway with you.  Do you know someone who is getting married soon?  Are you getting married soon?  Well this is the giveaway to end all wedding giveaways!   Laura Hernandez Photography is giving away a full day of photography for one lucky bride!  The details are below, but here is my unpaid, 100% my own opinion on Laura and LHP:  I adore them.  Laura is my aunt (small world right?), and she does all of our family pictures and most recently, new head shots for this blog.  Check out her blog for her galleries of wedding photos, engagement session, and senior pictures.  She also does stylized shoots too.  If you are in the Salinas CA, or Monterey CA area, then you should definitely check her out.

This giveaway is open to all who enter.  There is no location restriction on this giveaway, however if you win and you are outside the Salinas or Monterey California (United States) area, you will have to provide travel and lodging for Laura and her second photographer.

Sound to good to be true? Can you image having saved over $2,400 on your wedding? Here's your chance! Laura Hernandez Photography has teamed up the  with wedding blog Soundtrack To I Do  to giveaway a full-day of wedding photography coverage!!

Here are the details:

The winner of the contest will receive: a wedding photography package, worth $2400!!! This includes a full day of coverage by two photographers – so not a moment of your day will be missed!! You will also receive 200 high resolution digital files on DVD. *Travel and lodging are not included, so please keep in mind there will be a reasonable fee if the winner resides outside Monterey County, CA. Also note: Contest excludes clients who have already booked my services.

How it works:

The contest is open for entries August 1st, 2013 and will remain open until September 30th, 2013 at 11:59 pm, Pacific time. Five finalists will be selected based on various factors. The finalists will be announced on October 1st, 2013, and then the contest will head over to the Soundtrack To I Do Facebook Page, where anyone and everyone can vote on a winner! Voting will continue until October 11th, and the winner will be announced here on the Soundtrack To I Do blog on October 14th.

How to enter:

1. “Like” Soundtrack To I Do on Facebook

2. “Like” Laura Hernandez Photography on Facebook

3. Email Colleen at soundtracktoido@gmail.com with “Photography Contest” in the subject line, and give us the following information:

• Your name (and your fiance’s name)
• Your wedding date and location (Note: If your wedding date is inflexible and Laura is already booked on that date, we will have to exclude you from the contest – our apologies)
• Your love story (As much as you want to share – we love this part!)
• Your wedding style and plans  (Please include as much detail as possible!)
• A photo of you and your fiancé

That's it!  

Please share this giveaway with friends and family, 

and be sure to check out Laura Hernandez Photography.

The Raw Chicken in the Room {my Brazilian}

I'm going to warn you all now.  This isn't going to be a lady like post.  So if you don't like the words vagina, taint, or ass, stop reading.  It's fine, I understand.  I won't be mad.  This is a mommy blog so typically those aren't words regularly used.  But for today, I have to share this story to warn ladies everywhere of the conspiracy that is,
THE BRAZILIAN WAX.
This is the biggest conspiracy in the history of vaginas.  I'm dead serious.  I want to meet the woman who said, "Hey, I have an idea, let's wax our vaginas within an inch of their lives, all in the sake to look like pre pubescent girls when naked".  Who is that bitch?  Probably the same one that likes anal and having sex on her period.  
Do I sound angry?  I am angry.  Want to know why I'm angry?  Because women everywhere rave, RAVE about the Brazilian wax.  It's a way of life, their husbands love it, they love it.   What?  You love this? I have yet to be convinced that this is the best thing for me and my vagina.
My story starts over a month ago, when my two neighbors, who are going to Vegas with me, decided that we (the ladies) needed to get Brazilians for our trip.  It's going to be fun they said, we will all go together they said.  Well I had to go alone.  Which was probably better since I did scream a few times.  I had agonized about how painful this experience was going to be.  It's only now I realize I didn't agonize enough.   How do I put this gently?  Oh, wait I can't.   When my best friend asked how it was, I said  "It's like getting hot molten lava on your taint".  
Because let's be honest, that's pretty much the gist of it.  Also, I'm not sure a trip to your aesthetician should require you to do downward facing dog.   Just saying.  
Five facts I learned yesterday in regards to Brazilian Waxing:
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.
So of course after I got the wax, I sent a text to the person who was most excited for the wax.  The Hubbs.  You would think it was Christmas Eve with the excitement.  Actually no, he's not even that excited on Christmas Eve, he was excited like the night before the first Bulldog Tailgate.  Anyway, he asked how it was, and I gave him the hot molten lava on my undercarriage story.  He was in no way sympathetic.  Instead he wanted to know if I had a picture.  Yeah, because after having my vagina ripped for 45 minutes the first thing I did was take a picture of her.   So instead I sent him this:

Yes, I really sent this to the Hubbs via text message.

Because if you have ever had a Brazilian then you know this is what you are left with. I also posted this picture on Instagram saying that Vegas prep day 2 was to wax your ass, quite literally.
By the end of the night, I was kidney punching angry, because my neighbors reported back that they LOVE their smooth vajays.  That they will never every go back to the way they were before.  And I'm pissed because I don't like it.  I hate it.  I hate looking at a bald raw chicken every time I pee.  What is attractive about looking like a 12 year old?  Am I missing something here?  I mean besides the fact that it hurts like hell, I feel completely exposed.   And raw.  Like chicken.
I've come to the conclusion that this is no way to treat my vajay.  I didn't even abuse her in college.  I was nice and thought I took care of her.  She has been a trooper, you know birthing 2 kids and all.  Plus, she's a little old for going on such adventures that involve molten hot lava under the hood.  As you know, she doesn't even read Cosmo anymore.  I feel like I owe her an apology for keeping her so sheltered that her world was shattered by some hot wax and a yoga position.  
I'm still angry you know.  Again, who likes this?  Who?  I want names and addresses.  I'm sure the Hubbs will think it's fantastic.  All my girl friends are raving about.  Women everywhere are paying thousands a year to keep their eagles bald.    Am I really the only one who hates everything about this situation, called a Brazilian Wax?
Nope.  My vagina hates it too.
If you are visiting from GOMI or Baby Central here is an update on the chicken. Its part retraction part cautionary tale. Your welcome.