My Junior High Dream Come True

Many of you have asked how the New Kids on the Block concert was last night. Well, I have to say, the whole night far exceeded my expectations. My friend Tracy and I began our "Mom's Night Out" by going out for dinner and drinks with 2 of her friends. At dinner we figured out that our seats were fairly near each other on the upper level. When we arrived at Arco Arena Tracy called her friends to see where they were sitting. Her friend told her that their seats had been moved to the lower level. Tracy and I thought . . . "THAT'S NOT FAIR!"

We decided to go down to Guest Services and see what we could do about our nose-bleed seats. There were quite a few people in line and I could hear everyone ask the same question when they got up to the desk, "Is there any way I can get my tickets upgraded?" The man told them all "no" and turned them away. We got up to the front and asked if we could move our seats and the man told us to step aside. Ten minutes later the nice man handed us new tickets in the front row! We were soooo excited!

The concert was a blast! They sang all of their old hits along with a few songs from their new album. They even came out at one point wearing the same outfits that they wore on the "Hangin' Tough Tour." Remember Joe's leather jacket with the big happy face on the back? He wore it! They all looked exactly the same . . . maybe even hotter! (Except for Donnie, he has definitely aged over the past 15 years). There were a lot of women wearing vintage NKOTB shirts. A lot from the 1990 Magic Summer Tour. We even saw our fair share of home made puff paint shirts, mini-skirts with leggings, pegged pants with big socks, and hair scrunchies! It was hilarious! Tracy and I didn't go the 80's route, we just wore jeans with cute tank tops.

They played for about 2 hours and 20 minutes. We stood up and danced and SANG the whole time!Towards the end of the concert I saw this guy walking around on the floor with a NKOTB track suit on, a Boston Red Sox hat, and an official looking pass around his neck. He was just cruising around looking at the crowd. He was pretty cute, probably our age, and I pointed him out to Tracy. I told her we should ask that guy for backstage passes. He finally walked in front of us again and Tracy reached out and tapped his shoulder. She whispered in his ear for a few seconds and then he pulled 2 "After Show Meet & Greet" passes from his jacket and handed them to her. Tracy and I looked at each other and started screaming and jumping up and down . . . I definitely felt like I was back in junior high at that moment!

After the show we went to the press room at Arco Arena. I was excited to be in that room because that's where Grant Napier does all of his post-game interviews with the Kings. There were about 20 people in the room with passes on just sitting there quietly. No one said anything to us, we just sat and waited. It was kind of strange, we didn't know what to do or what to expect. The people in the room were a pretty mixed bag. There were some "groupie" looking girls in slutty dresses with high heels, some people who looked like they should be at a Marilyn Manson concert, and then a bunch of other random people who just didn't look like they would be a NKOTB fan.

After waiting and waiting Jonathan Knight limped into the room and went over to this lady and her daughter and talked with them for a while. Then Donnie Wahlberg entered. He went up to some girl and hugged her, then started slow dancing with her. Then he went and layed across a table where two trashy looking girls were sitting. The guy who gave us the passes, John, came over and sat by us. He wanted to know why we were being so quiet. It was really strange. We didn't know what they expect us to do. Donnie smiled at us and said he'd be right back. Then John waved for me to come over and meet Donnie. I walked over to him and like a complete nerd I said, "The show was so awesome!" As the words came out of my mouth I couldn't believe what a dork I sounded like! Oh well! Then he gave me a hug and asked if we wanted a picture. We had John take our picture with Tracy's phone since we didn't have a camera. Then Donnie said he'd be back in a few minutes and he stroked the side of my cheek with his hand as he walked away. I found that to be a little creepy!!!

Tracy and I sat down at our table again and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally around 12:40 am we decided to leave. We were exhausted and no one else had come in . . . my hopes of meeting Joe were crushed. LOL! We think the whole purpose of that room was to find some girls who would hook up with Donnie on his tour bus. We obviously were NOT those girls!

All in all it was such a fun night! Tracy and I made a good team . . . and I hope we can have more concert adventures together in the future!

NKOTB forever!

Blood Bath in the Kitchen

Back when I was a naive newlywed I thought it was my duty as a wife to slave in the kitchen and create extravagant meals for my dear and beloved husband every day. My husband and I lived together before we got married and he did all the cooking. For some strange reason after we got married I felt like I had to start preparing our meals. Unfortunately for my husband I am not skillfully inclined in the kitchen.

A few months after we got married I woke up one morning feeling rather optimistic. I thought to myself, "Today I am going to make my husband a turkey." Now, I had never actually made a turkey before, but it couldn't be that difficult, right? I set off to the grocery store and bought my very first turkey. It wasn't a very large turkey since it was just for the two of us. I also bought a box of Stove Top Stuffing and a can of Ocean Spray cranberry sauce as our side dishes. Yes, I was going all out for that meal!

As soon as I got home I put on my apron, ready to begin making this extravagant meal for my new husband. He was going to be so proud of me. I plopped my turkey in the sink, took off the wrapping and set it aside because the directions were printed on it. The first thing I needed to do was take out "the bag of guts." Cringing, I stuck my hand in the slimy turkey and felt around. I didn't feel anything. I kept moving my hand all around the inside of the turkey, but no luck. I tried to look inside to see if I could find it, but couldn't because it was so dark in there. I went and got a flashlight hoping that with a little light I might be able to see "the bag of guts." Again, no luck. After 10 minutes of trying to find "the bag of guts" I figured that Butterball did me a favor and already took out the guts for me.

I took the next step and rinsed my turkey, patted it dry, put it in a pan with some foil over it, and gently put it into my oven. I set the timer for 20 minutes a pound, so my turkey would be finished just as my hungry husband would be getting home from work. Sadly, I didn't know that the turkey was frozen when I put it in the oven. No where on the directions did it say that the turkey was frozen or that I needed to thaw it first. This was going to be a huge problem come dinner time!

Several hours later it was time for me to take my turkey out of the oven. When I pulled it out it didn't look quite right. I decided to put it back in for a few more minutes without the foil. I thought it needed to brown a little bit more. My husband came home from work right on time. I greeted him at the door with a giant grin, proudly telling him that I made us a "Thanksgiving Dinner" because I was so thankful for him. I told him to have a seat at the table, that I would carve the turkey and we'd be eating shortly.

I pulled the turkey out of the oven again and got out my new carving knife. We received it as a wedding gift and I finally had the opportunity to use it. As I began carving the turkey, the blood began to pour out. I cut it a little bit more and discovered that there actually was a "bag of guts" inside! Oops! Well, I kept cutting and the blood kept pouring. Being a rookie in the kitchen, I was cutting the turkey in a disposable aluminum baking dish . . . NOT on a cutting board. My kife was going through the bottom of the dish, so the blood began pouring out the bottom of the pan. Before I knew it, my entire kitchen counter was covered in blood and it started to trickle on to the floor. It looked like someone had been murdered in my kitchen! There was blood everywhere! Once I realized that there was a blood bath in my kitchen I had a meltdown. I threw my carving knive in the sink and started to cry . . . actually, sob. I was standing in a puddle of blood bawling my head off.

My husband heard me crying and came into the kitchen to see why I was crying. I felt like a complete and total failure as a wife. Being the sweet and caring man that he is, he came over and gave me a big hug, saying that it was the thought that counted. I looked up at him with my big crocodile tears and we both started laughing. We decided to leave the crime scene and go get some sushi.

That was the first and last time I ever attempted to cook a turkey. To this day, when ever I make steak or chicken for dinner I ask my husband to check it and make sure it's cooked all the way.

The 50 Year Old Bridesmaid

Flashback, April 2000, two months before the most important day of my life . . . my wedding, the day I had been dreaming about since I was a little girl. My fiance and I were visiting his parents for the weekend. I was sitting on his parents' couch looking through my wedding binder while my fiance was watching TV. I don't know how many "Brides-To-Be" have wedding binders, but I was one of those brides. I had a gigantic 3-ring binder with tabs. I kept all of my wedding "stuff" in that binder . . . contracts, receipts, pictures, magazine clippings, articles . . . anything and everything that was remotely related to a wedding was in that binder.

Enter my future Mother-in-law, carrying a large garment bag from Nordstrom. She wanted to show me the dress that she bought for our wedding. Now, being an extremely organized and anal bride, I had specifically told her to purchase a dress that was periwinkle blue. When she unzipped the garment bag to reveal the dress I was stunned to see a pastel yellow dress. Not the end of the world, right? Wrong! She removed the dress from the bag so I could get a good look at it. Here were the words that escaped my mouth at that moment in time . . . "That is the exact same dress as my bridesmaids! You can't wear that!" Crash . . . it was officially the end of the world!!! I immediately whipped open my binder to the "bridesmaid dress tab" and pulled out a picture of the dress that all of my bridesmaids would be wearing. I showed her the picture to prove that the dress she bought was indeed, exactly the same dress that all 5 of my bridesmaids would be wearing. My future Mother-in-law's response was as follows . . . "You never told me to buy a periwinkle blue dress. I spent hours picking out this dress. It looks really good on me because it's backless and shows off my back muscles, so I can't wear a bra with it. Oh, and I'm not taking it back." Then she zipped up the garment bag and returned to her bedroom.

I immediately ran into the spare room, got out my cell phone and called my mom in hysterics! I was bawling my head off! How could she? She was going to ruin everything! My mom, the wise and almighty, gave me excellent advice . . . let her wear the dress. Let her wear the dress? How could I let her wear that dress? What would everyone think? What -would -everyone-think? They would think she was a complete and total idiot. Hmmm, maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Instinctively I wanted to make a fuss, tell her to take the dress back, make her buy a periwinkle blue dress. But my mom convinced me that I should keep quiet and not start off my relationship with my future Mother-in-law on the wrong foot.

The wedding came and went. It was a picture perfect day and I didn't sweat the small stuff. She showed up wearing the yellow dress (without a bra), hair up in a banana clip, looking like she was going to the prom. People laughed, snickered, and called her the "50 Year Old Bridesmaid." To this day, when people see our wedding pictures they ask, "Who's the old bridesmaid?" Then I get the joy of retelling this story and getting the last laugh.

Would this happen in any other profession?

Two weeks ago I began my 8th year of teaching elementary school. In June, our last week of school I had to pack up my entire classroom and move to another classroom at my Principal's request. Although I wasn't pleased about this, I was given plenty of notice and took the time to carefully pack all of my teaching stuff that I had accumulated over the past 8 years. Approximately 30 boxes later, the entire room was packed up and all of the boxes were clearly labeled so that I could easily find my things when unpacking my classroom in August.


Fast forward to August 14th, the first official day back to work for teachers . . . I went to the school's office to get the key to my new room. The secretary didn't know what room I was going to be in. I told her that I had personally moved all of my things to room 23 on the last day of school. She informed me that the janitor had moved all of my stuff 3 more times over the summer (again at the Principal's request). At that moment the secretary didn't know where all of my 30+ boxes were, or which room they would be moved to. Oh, and did I mention that school would be starting in 3 days? There I was, a homeless teacher, anxious to start the school year. After wandering around the school looking in every single classroom I finally found all of my stuff in a small book room. Panic set in . . . was that going to be my classroom? Was I going to have to work in a closet all year? Luckily not! Later that day I was assigned a big, beautiful, giant classroom. I spent 2 full days unpacking, getting organized, and hanging up bulletin boards. School started, I began working with my students, and the week was over for me on Thursday. (I only work 4 days a week) On that first Friday (my day off) I received an email from my Principal saying that she had to move my classroom again and wanted to know if I was on campus so I could pack up my stuff . . . again. Well, she knows that I do NOT work on Fridays and haven't for over a year. I gave her my cell phone number and told her to please call me and let me know when I could come and repack all of my things to move AGAIN! She never called or replied to my email. Without my consent she had 4 people from maintenance pack up my entire room and move it for me! I was so completely stressed knowing that others were going through my stuff and packing it for me. I had a lot of personal items in my desk . . . things I might not want random maintenance men to see! Oh, and of course they didn't label the boxes or pack them in an organized manner.


I went into work on Monday to a total disaster! All my stuff was in a humongous pile in the center of the room. I immediately wanted to unpack and get organized, as looking at the giant mountain in the middle of the room was giving me a panic attack! As I began to unpack and settle into my new "home" for the year I discovered that EVERY cabinet, cupboard, drawer, shelf, etc. was full of someone else's crap. I emailed my principal to ask who's stuff it was and when they were going to come remove it so I could unpack. Well, she never replied to my email that day. I took it upon myself to remove everything from all the cabinets, throw the old stuff away (workbooks circa 1968), and cram everything I possibly could into 2 of the cabinets and piled the rest in a heap in the corner of the room and hid the crap with a pocket chart. Two days later I got the room all unpacked and organized. I set out my air freshener, placed my stuffed pink poodle on the rocking chair, took a step back, and admired my super cute, well organized classroom. Ahhh . . . home sweet home!


The next day I received an email from my principal telling me that all of the stuff that I found in the room belonged to the teacher that I was SHARING the room with! Oh my GOD . . . I felt horrible! I literally shoved all of her crap into the cabinets with no rhyme or reason. I let my Principal know what I did, but let her know that she neglected to tell me that I was sharing a classroom. Her reply was "If you have a problem sharing your room, you can move to another room." Seriously!?! Did she really think I would want to move again? Total insanity! What a great way to start off the school year!


So with all the packing and unpacking I have not been able to do my job. I have spent 4 out of 9 days packing and unpacking. Now I am over a week behind on assessing my students. Would this situation happen in any other profession? Probably not. This is just another example of how crazy the education system is in California. Because of the Principal's indecisiveness and demanding that I play "musical classrooms" for the first 2 weeks of school, I will not be able to start teaching my students until October!

"Mommy, will you hold my penis for me?"

Potty training . . . who knew it could be so difficult? All of my friends with kids seemed to magically potty train their children in a weekend. For us it has been pure torture. If you ever have or ever will potty train a child, you'll find that everyone and their grandmother will offer you advice. Usually the advice will entail . . . "It will just happen when he's ready" or my favorite, "I just put underware on him and he stopped peeing his pants." For the past 6 months I have tried EVERYTHING! My son, age 3 and 3 months, has seen every potty training video & read every potty training book out there. He's watched me, his daddy, his grandma, aunts, uncles, and all of his little friends use the toilet (much to their dismay!) We bought him a cute little toilet of his own, as well as a child seat for the big toilet. We've bribed him with candy, cookies, toys . . . NOTHING has worked. I'm convinced he'll still be in diapers when he starts kindergarten! I think the major problem I'm facing is my darling son's laziness. He's a very smart child, possibly a genius . . . but very lazy! I put some super cool Mickey Mouse underware on him one afternoon. He had just woken up from his nap; I took off his diaper that had about 5 pounds of pee in it, and let him lounge on the couch in his new underware (that he picked out), while he watched a 25 minute episode of "The Mickey Moues Clubhouse." As soon as the show was over I hear him call out to me, "Mommy, my show is over. Oh, and I peed in my underware on the couch." You see . . . pure laziness! He sat in a puddle of pee on the couch because he was too lazy to get up or to even tell me that he peed until after his show was over! This lazy behavior gets worse! On another occasion he actually sat on the big toilet. As he's sitting atop the porceline throne he smiles and sweetly says, "Mommy, will you push my penis down so I don't pee on you?" I began to giggle uncontrollably. Of course I said yes and helped to aim in the right direction. What mother wouldn't? I sure didn't want to get peed on! On a different day we were going to practice standing up and peeing into the toilet. Being a woman, I haven't had any practice in this department. It couldn't be that difficult, right? WRONG! I thought I was prepared. I had thrown a few Cheerios into the bowl so that he'd have something to aim at. (Several people had told me about and sworn by the "Cheerio trick.) I helped the little guy stand on his stool and pull down his pants. The my darling, lazy, genius son looked up at me with his big blue eyes and sweet little smile and said, "Mommy, will you hold my penis for me?" My husband, who was in the hall, heard this request and commented, "Mommy, when you're done helping him will you come hold my penis for me?" After giving my husband a "look" letting him know that his comment was not entirely appropriate, I did my motherly duty and held "it" while he peed standing up. Oh what a disaster! If I couldn't aim the stream of pee at the Cheerios how could my 3 year old do it?