Not big Enough?

Short blog.

But let me ask you a question Pretties.



What's the deal with big? Is big what its all about?

Don't concern yourself with what im referring to. B/c this question can be asked about anything.



For instance. I lost my wedding ring in Los Angeles and thankfully got a nice sized check from the insurance company and got a new (much better and bigger) ring. (no offense chris)

but when it came, i decided i wanted another band, and maybe to lower the carat size, because I was scared i was going to poke Stella in the eye with that thing.



Then when the second band came, and the smaller carat size too, my face was sour. LIKE i had eaten a lemon.

"whats wrong now??!"



"its not big enough"



que chris' eye roll.



How about penis'? How big is big? Is my big the same as your big? I mean what does it really matter anyway? I thought it was all about how you use it, not how big it is??



Hahahaha-- Sike. you know i never subscribed to that idea. 

So here's what i think. The bigger the better. Why is Small okay? Lets pretend we all live in Texas. It's like they say, "Everything's Bigger In Texas"

Dream big. Aspire Big. Save Big. Make Big Plans.
Travel to Big Places. Buy Big Homes. Get Big Boobs. Keep Big Penises, (around, if you're that lucky)
Make Big Money. Take Big Steps. Take Big Risks. Reap Big Rewards.

So here it is, Pretties.
We're moving to California. We're going to the City of Angels. We're selling our home and renting our townhouse and packing our shit, *Well actually chris' company is packing our shit* , and we are taking our happy little family,  (yes and FATTY TOO) to Southern California.

we're pretending like we're playing oregon trail. and we are going to have to caulk the river to get across.

I'm going to keep it real. I'm not happy and I'm not sad. I'm both excited, and I'm in recked with guilt. I'm like a fucking Alanis Morisette Song. Isn't it Ironic. Dontcha think?
But this is it, pretties. This is life.
And my life equals making Big Waves now, and doing Big Things.

Why didn't God tell me he had Big Plans in store for me? So rude. Now i've got to live it up to this and deliver Big.  But the good thing about big expectations, is big results. So wish me luck. I'm going to do work.
DO WORK.

Pretties. Many of you who live near me will never know how much you mean to me on a day to day basis. I'm pretty sure i'm going to have to up my prescription meds in order to function without you. However I'm only interested in living a big life. and doing big things. and enjoying big penises. (duh) None of this should come as a surprise since if you are reading this blog it means i love you and you love me and you know my plan.

wish me luck, pretties. walking the walk is much harder then it looks.

<3,
Mian

A Push is A Win.

IAD.
8:27am sunday May 29

Look at this!? i'm posting twice  in one week...pretty amazing huh?

I have about 10 minutes before my flight to LAX boards. I'm going back to meet with my top 2 choices of employers and confirm our preferred our location within the Los Angeles (west hollywood, pacific palisades, manhattan beach, palos verdes) that we would want to live. No we haven't gotten the full YES to go ahead and move, but we are one small step closer and we are just waiting for good news in early next week so we're going to THINK it into existence. And i'm sure chris and i would love all your positive mojo too.

So i'm sitting here at the United gate thinking about my sweet stella.
She went to sleep normally last night but woke up at 2am with 102.2 temp :-(
she wouldnt even take a bottle, i changed her diaper gave her tylenol and rocked her from screaming wails to calm sleepiness for 35 minutes. I felt like a horrible mother just boarding the plane and leaving chris to fend for himself for 3-4 days alone. But he is so much better then me with sickness i know they'll be okay. If you're going to be sick, then you want chris to take care of you. He's attentive and eager to please and sweet. I'm not the one you want to take care of you when you're sick. I'm impatient, unimpressed and think you must be over exaggerating the whole thing. but not when it comes to my babies. My heart breaks when my babies are sick. Please send good mojo that Stella feels better and chris makes it out alive...thanks pretties



So word on the street is that Nazly is gone. Well you're right. That lovely human being (HEAVY SARCASM) departed our home friday night. A tad early but it was required. Hotel Young is closed. She gave some major attitude regarding her gallivanting all over loudoun county with the car we provided and the cell phone we provided, WHEN SHE WAS OUR AU PAIR...which you may have gathered is not the case anymore. When she got home after being out, chris but the kabash on it and said "you don't gotta go home, but you gotta the hell out of here"

well not really, but we did say, its time to pack and go, and within 2 hours she left.

but thats not whats been eating me. Good Riddance. Sayonara. Arrivederce. Adios.

Whats's eating me is that she never even said GoodBye to our kids.
NEVER.

what a horrible human being that is selfish, so detached that she didnt even make time to say her final goodbye  to the girls she "claimed" to love so much. My heart ached all night and my stomach has not been right since that day. Im sick about it. and i'm sick about her. but chris has been wise beyond his years lately and said to me, "out of sight, out of mind, honey"

and he's right. She is not our concern anymore. She doesnt deserve anymore of our thoughts and energy and definitely no more of our attention on this here blog. So its over Nazly. It was a bad breakup but i'm not the one who messed it up im not feeling bad. In fact i'm going out tonight and telling everyone what a slut she is.
Metaphorically that is.

In reality, I'm old enough to know that wishing ill towards someone is only the most destructive thing you can do for YOURSELF. So i'm done with it. I'm done with her. I'm done with that. I'm just done.

and being done is almost like a PUSH in blackjack. You didnt win, but you didnt lose. And i always learned that a push is a win. So here's to pushing. I think i'll just get up at this point and go play the slots.

<3,
Mian

Open Letter to Nazly. (The dirty version)

Thursday, May 26, 2011 8:07pm

Dear Nazly,

I hate you. I'm sorry. I wish I could start this letter off differently, but that is as close to my feelings as I think words can get. You were reckless with my family and most importantly my children. Reckless with their feelings. The fact that you will most likely never get this letter only allows me to be brutally honest and real about the things I am going to tell you b/c i wont have to worry about hurting your feelings, or making you suicidal, or contemplating your own existence as a decent human being b/c in reality you SHOULD be feeling the above things anyway.

Tonight is Thursday, and you leave Saturday. And I've been dreading this moment since you dropped the bomb on us 4 weeks ago that you were leaving to "pursue higher education in Colombia". More on that lie later.

Tonight I rushed home from Spotsylvania to Aldie VA, going on average 86 mph to see if i could catch a glimpse of my kids before they went to sleep. Tonight I rushed home, bobbing and weaving around people who were going the ACTUAL speed limit in order for me to maybe just maybe get to hold them and kiss them goodnight. I missed Stella, she was already getting rocked by Chris. But i found my Sophie sitting in her room, fresh out of the bath with her hair in a messy bun covered by a towel. Her face lit up when she saw me. My heart began to overflow. "Mommy, Your BACK!!" she screamed...i hugged her and kissed her neck then hugged harder then kissed her forehead. I changed her into jammies and we picked out books. The house was quiet and she asks me, "Mommy are you sad?"

Since you don't know me Nazly. (you obviously don't know me, b/c if you KNEW me, you would know to NEVER do what are doing to me). But since you don't know me, let me educate you on something. I NEVER LIE TO MY CHILDREN. I lie to a lot of other people. All the time. Little lies, big lies, insignificant lies mostly. In fact people pay me a lot of money based solely on the fact that I'm REALLY good at lying, and convincing and the like.  So here's reason #903282 of why I hate you:

Because you made me tell my daughter the truth which snowballed into the discussion which prompted this very ugly open letter to you.

"yes mommy is sad" i began. 

"why? cuz you want some candy?"...No honey, mommy is just sad about a lot of things."- i respond.

Sophie looks at me confused. She's smart. But she also knows i'm not telling her everything.

I look back at her. "Do you know that Nazly is leaving to go to her home very soon?"

"Why, b/c her mommy misses her?"

"Yes, yes thats why. Her mommy and daddy miss her very much. So she's going to get on a bigggg airplane and go back to her home far far away. Do you understand that?"

"Oh. b/c they miss her??"

"Yes honey, they miss and love her and so she is going leave us, very soon. And we'll say, Bye Nazly! and we'll wave at the door, okay?"

Sophie looked at me with a frown.

"what about me? who's gonna be with me?"

I hate you.

I hate that i had to look at my almost 3 year olds face tonight, her beautiful, wonderful, innocent face and answer that question. She's right, you know. WHAT ABOUT HER?? does anyone car about Sophie and Stella?? ANYONE?

I flipped Sophie on my lap facing outward so she wouldn't see my impending breakdown of emotion. It started deep in my stomach and crept all the way my chest into my throat where it sat lodge like a golf ball. I could feel my face getting super hot and my eyes became blurry with tears. I assured her that of course we would be with her, like always. I told her mama and papa are always going to be with you but when we go to work Samantha is going to come and play and live with us. She talked about Samantha and rambled about where she would sleep and what toys Sophie would play with her while i held my breath, stroked her hair and let the tears stream down my cheeks. I held it in, and tried to keep my breath as even as possible in order for my chatty cathy toddler to not turn around and see me so distraught and disheveled. 

I changed the subject to school, so i could keep some composure and get of dodge. at this point my heart was broken and my head was heavy. I felt actually sick to my stomach to think that my Sophie was wondering if her nanny for the past 7 months was leaving and not going to miss her. Thats you. You are the person who made my child worry. You are the person who made my daughter doubt that she wasn't loved 100% of the time.

I hate you.

But since I plan to be brutally honest here i must also say I love you.

I love you for coming into our home and respecting me and my husband and following our rules from the jump.

I love you for taking excellent, almost pristine, care of our babies --as if they were your own flesh and blood. I love you for your hugs and kisses and enthusiasm that greeted them every morning, even though I could see that you were really unhappy.
I appreciate that you indulged me in my weekly "themes" that included everything from 'Learning Letters In Spanish Week' to 'French Songs & Foods'- all in an attempt, (IMO a lame attempt, but nonetheless) to make me happy and them cultured.

I appreciate your willingness to do whatever i wanted. Without so much as a peep. I appreciated your hardworking attitude, your gentle tone, and your absenteeism after 6pm. I also hated your absenteeism. 

So while I very much sit here confident in my decision to hate you, because i have stacks and stacks of supporting evidence. Everything from your total lack of trying to blend in with american culture, to your sheer HERMIT CRABNESS, and all the in between. I cant.

I don't hate you. 

I'm just so disappointed. Because like i said before, you don't know me. But let me tell you something. I've been battling issues since before you were born. And one of my biggest one is TRUST. I automatically think people are going to fuck up before the ball even starts rolling. 

Its why i'm in therapy. Its why i'm on medicine. It's why I drink. (among other things)

So you just did this 'work in progress'... a huge disservice. Because you just proved me right. But even more then that. You allowed my husband, my family, my friends, myself and most importantly my babies to come to know you and ultimately love you and you didn't love us back. you didnt love us back enough to do what you said and follow through on your promise.

I'm okay with you not loving me back---shooo. Sweetie, do you think its the first time?? HA.

But my babies.....No.

that's unforgivable. Thats unacceptable. And I will not and CANNOT allow it. 

 I would close by saying you'll learn from this. you'll figure out that you are selfish, immature and crazy in love with a man who will most likely mistreat you and take you for granted (if he hasn't already). And you'll look back when you're older and realize what a stupid mistake it was to throw away a great experience when you were 22, but it doesn't matter. Its done. and guess what, i was 22 before--so i know; you WONT LISTEN.

Hating you won't change it. Loving you didn't help. So both of these emotions are wasted on you.

All i can say is, what a great reminder of what to teach my girls NOT to act like when they are 22.

...and how lucky am i to be wise and 29.

-Mian

Slow & Steady said the Jetlagged Liar

Go ahead and say it.
Liar.
go ahead, a little louder is fine. I can take it.
LIAR!

Why do i do this to myself? Make fake promises if i cant keep them. I'm really upset with myself and don't worry i've punished myself more then you can ever, (its called detox and barely eating- pretty mean isnt it?)

so you know i'm REALLY SORRY.

don't act coy, you know i've been MIA on this blog and i cringe when i look at the date and see my last post on mother's day. LAWDAMERCE. pull it together mian. just pull it together, is all i have to say.

So here's the Recap over the past 13 or so days. yikes. almost 2 weeks. (don't i owe you guys like 4 posts then? whatever i posted two in a weekend before doesnt that count for something?)

1. Our aupair who was once loved and adored by me and is now, barely tolerated by me is leaving in 9 days to pursue a love affair with a man 12 years older then her back in her homeland of Colombia and i'm left to pretend like i'm "happy" for her and everyday i see her is an excercise in NON VIOLENCE b/c i want to rip her hair out
2. My oldest is definitely heading towards the dreaded 3's. Yes i said 3's. Its evidently INFINITELY worse then 2's. Basically it involves manic meltdowns 2-4 times a day and lots of arm crossing and screaming and then back up the rollercoaster we go when all she wants to do is cuddle and push her sister out of my arms so she can be "mommy's faevwit". Nice Sophie.

3. My youngest turns 1 in less then 2 weeks and i'm borderline suicidal. Ok thats not funny, of course not really, but i mean i CANNOT. CANNOT. Believe it. I'm 300% more upset about stella turning 1 then i was about sophie, b/c i really AM NOT EVER having ANY more kids. So she is my last. She is my baby. She is my little sugarmuffin who literally i can remember waddling into the hospital telling the meek little nurse, "its go time bitch. lets have a baby today, i came to party, and YES- i want the epidural; where do i sign?"

4. Chris and I just returned from a less then 48 hour fact finding mission is sunny, beautiful, Southern California. More on that later, but b/c i'm cheap (or thrifty :-) we took the red eye back and arrived at 6am, jussssssst in time for the girls to wake up and we. are. exhausted. no for real. Cant barely keep my eyes open. More on Cali later.

So its been a busy couple of weeks. our new au pair, samantha starts June 10th, and we are pumped.

But guess who's not pumped about her body??? THIS GIRL. so im going to extend my detox b/c of course i messed up while in LA so i need to push thru until maybe june 10th. Can i do it? I mean that means nodrinking or eating on MEMORIAL DAY?! that's one of my signature holidays. i dont know how i am going to do this. but i've printed out a picture our new aupair and blown it up to an 11x14 size in front of my


desk so i can remember how a 21 year olds body looks, and maybe just maybe i can strive to be a super hot 29 year old. oh yes, im STILL 29. Don't rush me. Don't ask me if i'm excited about turning 30. Don't remind me its coming up. I KNOW. I'm just "dealing with it". And i know when you turned 30 it "wasnt that big of a deal" and to you, i might be "overreacting" but its really playing tricks on me, this whole turning 30 business. So yes. I am taking it SLOW and STEADY. Slow and steady...like you used to shout to the pitcher in kickball when you were in elementary school. There were some kids who asked for Fast and Baby Bouncy, but thats just crazy talk. You're asking for trouble if you want it like that...

Between the the academy award winning performance for the old au-pair (sayonara hussie) and the preparation for the new Au-Pair (don't make direct eye contact with me, im your boss -- i don't care if you're prettier), the littlest babe turning ONE, the oldest babe acting like a PRE TEEN, and the fact that chris and I are very heavily, very seriously, and VERY possibly thinking of moving our entire family unit across the country, i've been tired. No- I've been exhausted.  And go ahead and throw in there, that i'm on detox again, so i'm HUNGRY AS SHIT and in dire need of a glass of Chenin Blanc to make it all okay...i've neglected my most favorite coping mechanism which is this blog. :-(

Shame on me, b/c i have so much to say and never make the time to say it. I'm sure my therapist wishes i would write more, b/c God knows an Hour is just not enough for all my crazy SHIZZ. and God Bless her, b/c everytime i go in there, i feel like she has to buckle up for safety cuz i'm dropping another atomic bomb which doesnt let us even dive into the other tangent i started on last session.
btw- raise your hand if you still don't have a therapist??

LAME.
GET ONE. 
IMMEDIATELY. it will change your life.

not because you need to talk to someone about your issues, but because you deserve AT LEAST 1 hour to yourself a week.
just sayin'.

so i'll wrap it up by saying: tuck me in, i'm ready for night night. Seriously.
I get it, i'm a liar but i'm jetlagged and im at work, so don't kick me while i'm down okay?

And here's what else i can tell you. When this stupid detox ends, and my kid turns 1, and my other kid stops acting like the devil, and my new aupair gets here and she's not as pretty as i think or her ass isn't as perfect as it looks, and my weight plummets so drastically i have to eat popeyes daily to get back into my clothes
*(HA!!!!!)*...then i'll be able to breathe a sigh of relief. But until then i'm just proud of myself for not crawling into a ball and crying. B/c if you remember for post #1, i've been known to do that...

So good job Mian. You didn't breakdown this week....yet. :-)
Happy Weekend, Pretties...I've missed you!

<3,
Mian

we did it!

For those who read this post that are mommy's: Congrats. We made it. 
so far...
what an accomplishment. to put one foot in front of the other every day since the day our baby was born.
As you know its hard. its not even hard, its like quantum physics. NO JOKE.

so congrats to us. We are alive and kicking and are on our way to raising, polite, clean, healthy, well adjusted children. We have the hardest job in the world, so take this entire today to let everyone KNOW it! that's what i'm going to do..im going to be EXTRA lazy today. in fact after i finish this post, im going back to sleep. swear.

For those who read this post and aren't mommies....you lucky bitches.


sike.

For those who read this post who aren't mommies...what are you waiting for. seriously, its the best ride in the whole world. Come on down...

<3,

Mian

The Buddhist Monk they call Fatty.

This is huge. 
for the last couple of years, our beloved dog fatty has been the opposite of beloved. he has been a thorn in my side that farts and disobeys and chews and destroys and scratches and barks and pees on people, and well the list goes on and on.

why then do i keep him around? because he has the patience of a Buddhist monk and both girls have tormented him, pulled his ears, attempted to ride him, stuck their fingers in his eyes, bitten him, and yelled at him since they were born. he doesnt care. he just allows it. and all  he does is sit and stare at chris and i while we are watching law and order svu b/c he of course is not allowed on the couch anymore, (see above where i referenced flatulence) and so he acts like his life is over b/c he has to go over to his high thread count, down comforter dog bed from orvis.

So tonight, while i was stalking old boyfriends on facebook...(one of my FAVORITE pastimes) there he was staring at me, with only a face a mother could love. i reached behind me to a fuzzy blanket we have draped over the couch and laid it next to me. I could see him begin to shake with excitement.

"ONLY FOR A MINUTE FATTY"...i hissed at him and he jumped immediately and coiled himself next to me like a big boston terrier-snake.

UGH. a deep knot began to grow in my throat b/c i realized that i had been so worried about being a good mommy to sophia and stella i had forgotten about my first baby, Fat Tuesday Pinkett-Young. He was our first love. Our trial run. Our test case. And he survived, so we decided we were smart enough to procreate for REAL.

dummies, we are....

fatty is for all intensive purposes the most unimportant thing in my very important life on a day to day basis, but when he curled up next to me on the couch just now, and essentially forgave me for berating him, ignoring him, and all together barely loving him for the past 3 years, he taught me a valuable lesson.

Not everything or everyone may be what you want them to be, but guess what, NEITHER ARE YOU.

say that again to yourself, except say it out loud and then breathe.
yeah, i know....

stop being a bitch, mian. (no pun intended)


love that dog, that loves your girls, and keeps your house in a happy dysfunctional state of chaos.

b/c in case you forgot, he's the only one who comes and sits next to you when you are crying on the steps in an empty house; just to make sure you're okay.

in case you forgot- he's ALWAYS HAPPY TO SEE YOU, and can't wait for you touch him, whether you've gained 10 lbs or lost 10lbs..
(*actually that applies to chris too, so scratch that**)


in case you forgot- he has a mildly unimpressive life of being relegated the one floor in this house and gets two really miniscual walks a day b/c mommy and daddy are too busy and tired to take him for the walks he deserves.

love that dog. he's your dog. 


Remember when he was first given to you, and you're heart swelled up so much you thought it was going to burst? Remember you had to pick him out of the litter and you chose him b/c he was actually the "runt".  You didn't like that he was labeled so negatively right from the getgo, so you got mad enough to pick him, in a sort of "i'll show them" kind of a way.
(meanwhile- he is now the BIGGEST boston terrier we have ever met, we researched this, weighing in at 40lbs)
remember when you used to let him sleep in the bed with you and he'd sleep horizontal between you and chris and you wouldn't care b/c every morning he'd snuggle up to your chin and lay there with his fat head on it and breathe loudly until you woke up?

Love that dog. Stop being stingy with the love.

Stop preaching, a clean slate, a new beginning, living in the moment and focused life; if you're just going to to ignore the dog. That dog is your family. That dog is your son.

So tonight at 11pm, i'm changed. I pretending like its Pre-sophia days; and i love fatty.
he's going to get more hugs, and more kisses, and less yelling and less eye rolls.
he's going to get longer walks,and more playtime and less abuse from his sisters.

Love that dog, is my new mantra.

Why?


Because he's one of the few souls in this lifetime that has ALWAYS LOVED ME.




<3,
Mian

Bra-Less Pennies.

I know.

I know.

I know. I know what you're thinking:

WTF mian, i can't commit to following this blog if you're just going to write whenever you get around to it. Who goes 11 day stretches in between? It better be a good reason...

Hi Pretties,

It was a good reason. I was....re-evaluating some things. Chewing them up again and seeing if I still liked it. I was metaphorically standing in front of my fridge with the door open staring at the shelves figuring out what to eat and unfortunately; i am still hungry and i cant decide. But i'm sick of staring at the fridge and frankly, now the "open door" alarm is going off and im probably just going to sit back on the couch and poor myself a glass of wine and wait until i figure it out.

I've made some deals with myself recently in order to let myself off the hook for things and one of them is to blog more, and so here's my promise: two blogs a week. they don't have to be the novels i usually write, but they do have to be written.

So last time I talked a little about my besties. My oldies. My version of my old timer friends. They of course loved the post, (which believe it or not is not why i wrote it) but it did make me happy that they walked around for even one whole day with a smile on their face because someone proclaimed how GREAT they were. But enough of them. In addition to my "vintage" friends, I also have been lucky enough to make some shiny new ones.

I call these friends my shiny new pennies.

They are lovely, wonderful, people who have come to know me and my family later in life and have yet to run away in horror. Some are younger, some are older. Some are women, some are men. Some are attractive and some are not. Ok, lets be real, they are all attractive--you know I don't have unattractive friends.

They bring fresh perspective, humility, experience and patience to my already chaotic life and more importantly they leave the judgements at the door. They come to my house on time, (usually) and bring wine and a funny story instead of thier glass house and thier pulpit. I never have to say, "Excuse the mess.." or "I'm so sorry my dog just peed on your leg/shoes/feet" or "don't worry about the fact that i'm not wearing a bra". They get it.

I bet their house is a mess, they walk around bra-less and have an ornery dog too.

Recently I was talking to one of my pennies over lunch and she said to me, "Its just always something."

I laughed a bit and she gave me a weird look. "sorry, i was choking on my chicken" i said.

 

I didn't tell her but I laughed because me and this penny have been having lunch for a longggg time and we always, ALWAYS, ALWAYS end with, "well its just always something"

its like our greeting card. Its our slogan. We should have business cards made up.

And the point is, she's right.

IT.IS.ALWAYS.SOMETHING.

this life is no effing joke. Just when you have one thing under control, something else begins to unravel. Or if you're like me, the concept of having things under control is so distant, so fairytale, so foreign; that you don't even ALLOW yourself that daydream so you just go directly into survival mode. You go guerrilla warfare thru life to make sure all bases are covered, all T's are crossed, all invites are sent out. This is the only way you can manage. Its high stress or go home. So while everyone else has their head down, and putting one foot in front of the other- you have seen the finish line and are figuring out how to get there quicker, with more $, and in better shoes.

Its exhausting isn't it? So there... that's why my pennies are so important to me. They help me realize its okay to look down every now and then. Its okay to stop. Its okay to leave some bases uncovered, not because you forgot, but because you want to. The world spins and life continues even though you didn't accomplish everything on your To-Do list. Costco will be open tomorrow if you can't make it there today. Going out with spit up on your top doesn't make you a sloppy dresser, its makes you a MOM. Work doesn't make you better, YOU make work better. And happy hour makes EVERYTHING BETTER.



Yeah right, my ass looks like that too.


So while i love my vintage friends; like this one dress in my closet that always fits no matter how many lbs i put on or take off, its hangs perfectly and always illicits head turns and compliments. That is my go to. That is my piece DE resistance. I've acquired some pretty glorious little gems over the past few years that; also get that same attention and look good on me ALL the time. especially when I'm going bra-less.

<3,

Mian