Bring Your Own Hygiene Products

First of all, a bit of background about that title…

My older daughter, Thing 3, is turning 18 in July. She designed her own birthday invites and unfortunately added that title in the “What to bring” section of her invite. I about died laughing. I mean, really? What 17- or 18-year-old girl isn’t going to bring along her own hygiene products? Oh, gawd.

Thankfully her younger sister, Thing 4, saved the day by redesigning her invites. You see, Thing 4 is a whiz when it comes to all things Photoshop and design. By the way, Thing 4 is a photographer and artist, is the owner and CEO of her own photography company, and she’s only 15. She is one talented little stinker.



And The Birthday Shenanigans Begin…

Thing 2’s birthday is coming up on Wednesday.  She turns 17…not sure where the time went.  Yesterday her and I went out to the mall, and I ended up letting her get a tattoo.

I can hear it already. Oh my gawd! What parent lets their minor child get a tattoo?

Hold on to your underpants. It’s not permanent. Even though she’s begged me to let her get an actual tattoo, I’ve told her repeatedly she’s simply going to have to wait until she’s 18. This way, when she’s older and possibly decides she doesn’t like it, she only has herself to blame for it. Not that I have anything against tattoos. Heck, I’ve got one myself. But, seeing as how a tattoo is a lifelong commitment…well… she needs to be old enough to make that commitment on her own.

So, here she is, getting a henna tattoo.

Bri getting henna tattoo

And the finished product:

Bri's tattoo

Tuesday her boyfriend is taking her out to dinner.  I believe Wednesday she’ll be with her dad. Thursday I’ll take her out, and then Friday I’m taking her, Thing 3, and my niece to Chicago for the day. Then on Saturday, I believe her grandmother is taking her shopping.

Whew! Let’s hear it for week-long birthday celebrations!

Stop Squeaking!


Apparently this little mouse toy was madly squeaking and wouldn’t stop. Thing 3 determined it must be possessed, so she stuck it in a salt ring.   As soon as she put it in the ring of salt, the squeaking stopped. Coincidence? Or do I have a demon-possessed cat toy?

Why Does It Look Like Blood Mixed With Barf?

I sent Thing 1 to the store for a few things–milk, hamburger, V8, crackers…so he bought some “flavored” milk. One was chocolate mint (yuck–grainy and too minty), and the other was red velvet milk (again, yuck).

Of course, Thing 3 wanted to try them. She agreed with me that the chocolate mint was gross, though Thing 1 disagreed. She then wanted to try the red velvet milk.

Have you ever seen red velvet milk? It’s thick like blood and the color of a sickly, muddy red. When I handed it to Thing 3, she looked in the cup and asked, “WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE BLOOD MIXED WITH BARF?!” She then proceeded to drink it, and guess what?

She liked it!

I, however, am staying away from it.

Things were great…until I tried the tea

I went Black Friday shopping at a local mall. This is only the second time in my life I’ve ever went shopping on Black Friday, and it reminded me of why I don’t do it.

There’s waaay to many people!

I didn’t get much simply because I’m saving up for other stuff, so I “tried” not to spend money. Really, I did try.

I was doing great until we stopped in at Teavana. We moseyed around the store, sniffing and sampling different teas. Most of them were kind of blah or okay, but then…the sales associate had us try the holy grail of tea.

White Chocolate Peppermint.

Oh. My. God.

That first sip almost sent me into orgasmic bliss. By the second sip, I was hooked. When I asked her “how much?” she went behind the counter, opened up a tin, and the scent wafted out. She then proceeded to fill up a tin, weighed it, and told me the price.

I almost dropped my teeth.

A hundred-fifty bucks for 2 pounds of freakin’ tea?!

I was in turmoil. What to do? If I bought the full 2 pounds, then I’d get the tin for free AND 20% off the price!

Thing 2 and Thing 3 were both with me. While I was having an internal debate on what to do, they were chanting, “Get the tea! You know you want it. So do we. Get the tea!” I’m sad to say, I bowed under peer pressure and bought the damn tea. Of course, I also had to get a teapot to properly brew my tea.

After we got home, we all relaxed from a long day of shopping with a nice, hot cup of White Chocolate Peppermint tea. Ahh, heaven in a cup.

Rather than throw out the used tea, I have it simmering over the stove. My house smells delicious.

And the $150 tin of tea I bought? It’s now a prized possession and under lock and key. I told the kiddos they can’t make this tea whenever the hell they feel like it, because it’s gotta last an entire year! It’s only sold during the holidays, and I’m not spending another $150 on tea until this time next year.

Aww, Did I Break Your Wittle Heart?

My daughter, Thing 2, has a thing for Matt Bomer, only she didn’t know his actual name. She watches episode after episode of White Collar.

She’s in love with him. She even got Thing 3 to fall in love with him too. –le sigh–

Tonight I asked her, “You do know he’s gay, right?”

Her response was “What?! He’s gay? Man.”

Thing 3 asked “Who’s gay?”

Thing 2 responded, “The hot guy is gay! Well, maybe he’ll go straight and then in five years I can marry him.”

Dream on, hon. Dream on.