Tag Archives: mom

Here I go again on my own

Quick re-cap, I blogged with a fab group of women for about a year over at imperfectlybalanced.com, and while we figure out what direction we wish to move, I’m back here, dribbling nonsense out the ends of my fingers, hoping to still find an audience.

A re-introduction to myself.  I’m a single mom to a teen-aged daughter.  I’m a do-gooder with a potty mouth.  A self-proclaimed domestic Goddess.  Often described as abrasive but likable and I think I’m hilarious.  My mind goes a mile a minute, and I often speak, tweet, Facebook, blog and text before I think at all.  Not Instagram though.  That requires a ton of thought, retakes and filters.

I’ve recently become a Team Beachbody Coach which excites me to NO END.  Needed to kick my generous, but well-shaped ass into gear for my 35th (oh god) birthday, so I’m striving to lose 35 by my 35th.

In these pages you’ll find random ramblings, rantings, recipes, trials and tribulations of an estrogen only household (a boat load of alliteration), how to deal with different dietary needs (she doesn’t eat meat, I devour it still mooing) and what it’s like to date while your child dates, because let me tell you IT’S REALLY, REALLY WEIRD.

If you have any questions about BeachBody, fire away!  If you’d like to collaborate on a blog post, suggest content, share the content, make people read me because I’m hilarious, please, please do.
Thanks!

 

Lisa

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Wedding crashers and child abductions: How to have the perfect Saturday

First a quick #humblebrag (Yeah, I’m hash tagging on my blog, what of it, twitter?) I’m quickly reaching 20,000 views and I just want to thank you all for reading along!  But please, comment away!  I love hearing what other people have to say!

Today’s entry is going to be a hodge-podge of information, pictures and stories ranging from wedding crashing to child abduction.  Yeah, you read that right. CHILD ABDUCTION.  Now hold the phone, you can dial 9-1-if that makes you feel better but hold off on the final 1 until you hear MY SIDE.  (I was framed)

Saturday was a gorgeous day in the ‘peg, and me and the pre-teen headed down to the Goldeyes Open House.  Beautiful weather, free eats and men in baseball pants.  Really, what more do I need?  NOTHING.

So a quick aside, for those of you who love baseball, and want to support and AMAZING CAUSE (Pancreatic Cancer research) join us on July 9th! for Strike Out Pancreatic Cancer with the Goldeyes.

Tickets are $12/ea and in section D.  The view is something like this

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email pancanmb@gmail.com for your tickets!

So after the ball game, we wandered over to crash a wedding, and the conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi!  I’m here to crash the Strank wedding

Concierge: 2nd floor ballroom.  Have fun!

Apparently, I don’t look like trouble.

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So at this point, the pre-teen is like, “can we gooooooooooooooo?” Because like any good mother, I promised her a trip to the candy train (Sugar Mountain aka the Sugar Shack) at the Forks, and the sweets were SPEAKING TO HER.

We never made it.  Well, we did.  But not before stumbling across this piece of SHEER GENIUS.  Bee 2gether bikes

Naturally, we immediately commandeered one, and tore around the forks like a couple 3-year-old holy terrors.  Look how fierce.

That’s her driving face. She’s a wild woman, and I will never let her drive a car. ever. Even if it means sacrificing my face to rabid lemmings. It isn’t happening.

I’ve relinquished control, and have my first grey hairs to prove it. We nearly took a granny out at the knees. Terror

The rest of the day was spent playing video games, eating sprinkled ice cream (because I am 9 on the inside) chasing ghosts, watching bad moons rise and abducting children.  I’m still getting to that.

They are 12 and 13. Going on 5 and 25 simultaneously. Two of the most independent thinking girls I’ve met.

Sprinkles, like a boss. I’m 9 on the inside. GENTLEMEN, THIS COULD ALL BE YOURS.

running from a gaggle of angry geese. or more realistically, we’ve threatened to drive off leaving the other one behind. There’s only room for one of you, I yelled as I scampered to the car.

or what? rumor has it, you disappear.

Bad moon rising. Was a super moon on Saturday, though no cape in sight. You can’t tell, but that thing WAS HUGE. And way awesome.

So onto the child abduction. I  took the two nearly teenaged pukes to birds hill to get a better view of the moon (it hit its fullest at 10:35 CST).

I pull into the park and find a quiet patch of grass, shut off the lights and open the sunroof to get an optimal view of the glowing orb in the sky.  The girls get outta the car and lay the seats down so they can lay flat staring up and out.  We sit around for about 30 minutes, I’m listening to them laugh and talk freely, as if I don’t exist and we decide it’s time to take off.  One problem.  Hatch won’t open from the inside.

I get out, walk around to the back and open the door.  Just as the hatch comes up, the friend leaps out like a caged animal yelling “FREE AT LAST! SHE TOOK ME!” and books it down the darkened road.

Howling with laughter, and half hoping she gets eaten by wolves, I look around nervously for the police.  Safe for now.

By the way, anyone want to go to Chicken FUCKING Bingo?

Seriously. What is this? Chicken Shit Bingo? Anyone in Oakbank knows what’s what?

 

So that was Saturday.  I didn’t even get into my Sunday, with ginger badminton, toilet scrubbing in fashionable supermom gloves, wet cat barf in a heating vent or being bum rushed by labs.

It’s an exciting existence.  I KNOW YOU WANT TO BE PART OF IT.