A look at the bizarre, but funny ways to parent.  Ok.  Not really.  But it’s like a train wreck, you just have to keep looking, then pat yourself on the back, because no matter who or where you are you’re at least doing better than this:

http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/

I can only say that Sara at the Finer Touch is one of the nicest people we’ve dealt with.  I, already being lasered all over, could not find ONE single hair that needed zapping.  And, fortunately I was within weeks of going to Fiji so the face-laser-peel was out for me.

I do not feel like I can adequately review them, except with second hand info.  Elanah’s face looked peel’y the first time I saw her.  The second time , HUGE difference from the first time.  She looked refreshed and glow’y.  I can’t comment on Twila’s cooch, but I’m sure she’s molting quite nicely by now!  

So when it comes to the Finer Touch, I’ll be blunt and say ‘I took one for the team’.  I was up for hair removal; however, they wanted someone to do a laser peel too.  So I decided I would try the peel.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I will say the staff was very pleasant.  They described what was going to happen, and how I would feel during and after the treatment. So my original skin was never bad, but I did want to see if I could fight off a few wrinkles.  I also wanted to see if I could smooth out my skin and make it look a bit healthier.

Well, let’s just say you really need to have someone drive you home.  It would help.  My face was on fire, ON FIRE.  I was trying to cover my face while taking the three story elevator trip to the bottom so I wouldn’t scare small children.  And during the entire car ride home, I had the air conditioner on high so it was consistently blowing on my face.  When I got home, the first words out of my husband’s mouth were ‘how long are you going to look like that’?

I wasn’t able to go out to the real world for three days.  On day four, I was pushing it.  I was far too humiliated, and plus my skin couldn’t be exposed to sun.  I’ll be honest with you; it was painful, painful, painful.  I was in pain and pretty uncomfortable.  I had a hard time sleeping the first few nights, and at times questioned what in the hell I had done.

I did have a scar on my chin for a while too.  It was a laser mark, but now I can barely see it, and believe me, I’ve been looking every day for it.  Overall, my skin looks better.  It has a better glow to it, and I’m pretty happy.    Would I go for the three recommended treatments?  No, I’m going to hold off.  My hubby told me, so sweetly, that I would be an idiot to go through that again.  However, as age grasps a bigger hold on me, I would be more prone to do it again.

So overall, I would say my experience with the Finer Touch was good, based on what it was.  Elanah gives them three out of five Collin Countini’s. 

Yes! The Secret has paid off.  I have been willing the want of laser hair removal for about 6 years now.  And it didn’t come in the form of a present from Hubby. Instead it came as a review, even better!

I couldn’t wait to get down there and have some hair burnt off. Right when I arrived at The Finer Touch the girls greeted me warmly and offered me a drink. Then they let me sit in the relaxation room while I waited for the doctor to arrive.  There, I got to sit on a nice massaging chair and read a gossip magazine.  Yes, I know, whatever Twila, no big deal. Well it’s a big deal to me!  I never get to read trashing gossip magazines.

Once the doctor arrived she took me into the consultation room and we talked about my skin type (the palest possible) and what hair I wanted removed.  I chose my bikini line because that is one area that always bothers me.

Then she took me into the little laser room and gave me nice skirt towel thing. Much better than a paper gown.  She was also nice enough to give me the numbing cream. (Thanks for the suggestion Sabrina.)

Let the lasering begin!  It wasn’t so bad.  Just felt like rubber bands hitting you.  It also didn’t take very long.  Only about 10 minutes, so I was out of there in a flash.

It took about 3 weeks for me to see any results and even then it was only patches. But, I have been back a second time and am seeing much better results this time around.  I am signed up for 6 sessions so I’m hoping to be nice and hairless by the fall. YEA!!!!

Twila gives The Finer Touch 4 out of 5 stars.

Oh yeah, Vincent’s (from Halo) girlfriend works there and she is a total hottie!  They will have CUTE babies.  I just had to say it.

So this Monday I got a call from work asking if I could make a last minute trip to San Diego, leaving on Tuesday.  Me, having no commitments said ‘no problem’ and booked the next flight out of town.  I came to find out that my impromptu trip came because the woman who was supposed to go was taken off the project because she couldn’t be ‘flexible enough’.  Basically, she’s a single mother who can’t just travel at the drop of the dime.  This customer demands some pretty last minute flexibility, so she got stuck at home doing the grunt/shit work.  And I jetted off to San Diego to do the more exciting, career building work.

It made me think, can woman really be the super woman that we always say we can be?  Now step off because yes, I do know that we can accomplish many, many, things.   I’m one of the women who slaps on my cape and truly feels I can take on the world.  However, my point is that can we really and honestly do all these many, many things well?  Obviously the woman in my company can’t give the 100% in the job that she should to move on up the ranks.  So she’ll be left behind as the flexible workers keep taking all the career building jobs.  If she puts career first, and left her kids back home with a nanny, does that make her mothering abilities sub par? 

I find the concept of the life/work balance intriguing.  I used to work for a university and along with the job came free education.  You could obtain as many degrees as you wanted.  I, along with many other people, took advantage of this.  And I admit, I struggled having a life, getting an MBA, and still working regular work weeks.  How I could have done it with children at home is beyond me, yet many women did it.  I just watched from the outside wondering how.

I don’t understand why we just can’t concede and admit that we can’t do it all without help or at least something suffering.  I know I would struggle with trying to find a balance.  I struggled through the premier of Tori and Dean this week, as Tori whined about wanting a career and wanting to be a mom, and complaining that her dad was never there, but how she remembers the memories with her Dad the best….made my head spin.  But it did make me realize that I’m not the only one trying to figure out how a balance is made.

It just seems that in life, if something is flourishing, then something is suffering….just the law of averages.  I just wish everyone would be honest.  For example, I suck at cleaning.  No, I really don’t have the time, but even if I did, I really suck at cleaning.  Instead of trying to take credit and make it seem like I can do it all, I’m happy to admit that I suck, and that I use a cleaning service.   Why can’t celebrity moms just list all the help they get as they’re working 70 hour weeks instead of pretending that they’re saints?  Or why can’t some people admit that their job isn’t super important to them, just a means to an end, and that family comes first.   Instead we try to put this front on for the world. 

One of our closest friends is getting married.  I am overwhelmingly excited for him because he is one of the few guys out there that is a great catch.  Finally, after dating many, many girls he has found “the one.”

Now comes the wedding. 

First, let me say that I am not a huge fan of them.  I can’t stand it when the bride’s only friend who can sort of carry a tune stands up to sing some crazy Christian love song.  I hate it when they take a century to light a candle and then sit and whisper sweet nothings to each other while the audience sits there just waiting.  And, I loath listening to the same Bible verses at every fuckin’ wedding. Pretty much the only thing I like is when they kiss.

The funny thing about this wedding is that I have been looking forward to it before he even proposed. And now that it is finally here I can’t stand the thought of it.  Why you ask?  Because they have already wedding’d me out.

I knew we were in for it when we received the Save the Date in the mail.  Let’s just say that it arrived in a scroll tube and cost about $2.50 just to send.

Then the engagement party.  Not a problem, we got the grandparents to watch the kids for the weekend and drove there for it.  Nice getaway, and I did try to drink my weight in beer to equal the amount we spent on gas and hotel.

Now the bachelor party.  Where?  Vegas of course!  How can I say no?  This is hubby’s best friend.  Even my most conservative friends agree that he has to go.  Where are they staying?  Only one of the hippest hotels.

Next, the Honey-Do party.  What is a honey-do party?  A fucking wedding shower for guys.  I mean REALLY?!?!? Is there a bigger way to say that you just want as many presents as possible? Thank god I’m not friends with the bride.  Who knows how many showers she had.

Finally, the actual wedding that I have been told that I have to buy a gown for.  Is this a joke?  Am I going to the prom?  What princess world did this girl grow up in?  Oh yeah, there are also 3 other days of activities that have a dress code.

I’m trying to like this girl, I really am. But when I’ve been asked to spend the amount of money that hubby and I have dropped, I start wondering if her head is on straight. I haven’t even bought the wedding present yet. I looks like I can buy her a mustard jar for $230 or a dinner knife for $115.  I did type dinner, the knife that you use to eat your meal with. Not the knife to prepare food or one to cut steak. The one to sit there in your hand and spread caviar with. (Not me… her. I fucking hate caviar.)

I understand that she wants her dream wedding, but at what cost to everyone else?

I plan on coming home fat and hung-over, because I’m getting as much free food and alcohol as possible out of the 4 day swaray. 

I had a 48 hour total brain lapse.  Partial tequila amnesia (self induced) and I don’t know about the rest.  You’ve all grown to know each of us differently and what we allow to be shown.  I was never the one that you put in the I-Wish-I-Had-A-Marriage-Like-That category.  That was Lulu.

So on Saturday I went to watch TV in the bedroom, which pissed Husband off.  It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon and why would any self-respecting human go to bed at 4 o’clock and watch TV when there so much else, no, wait a minute, 2 of the kids were gone and the remaining one had a friend over, so there wasn’t so much else to do.  And I sank into the bed surrounded by being unhappy.  The air in the room was gunky.  So Husband and I spoke for a long time about a possible separation.  When it was decided that neither of us was willing to leave the kids, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  Like the walls and the gunky air was suffocating me.  I made the decision to spend two weeks at the Embassy Suites.  I could breathe there and hopefully find my way back home.

I left last Sunday morning.  Checked in at the hotel and made my way to the room where I immediately let the knot in my throat go and cried and cried and cried into one of the 7 pillows on the bed.  What was I doing?  Was I really willing to walk away from 15 years of life with this person?  At what point do you know it’s over?  When I pictured myself old and grandkids running around, Husband was always there.  But how could I ask him to sit on a shelf for 20 years while I lived doing my own thing?  I couldn’t.   And he wouldn’t.

Monday morning I woke up and decided to go see Holly that evening.  I proceeded to buy 3 bottles of Patron Silver and then I went to Halo and bought about $40 worth of chocolate.  That’s how I was going to survive the next 2 weeks.  Drunken and on a chocolate high.

I arrived at Holly’s house sober.  I was wearing white shorts with a black halter style top with some black heels.  (This information will come into play later)  She gave me a regular sized drinking glass and I filled it full of Patron and some ice.  She was sticking with her beer.  And I proceeded to get completely and utterly shit faced. 

And that’s when I decided I had to call someone and treat him like shit.  Someone I thought deserved to be treated like shit because he wasn’t letting me be in control of the situation I so desperately needed control over.  And I was awful.  The things I said were some of the nastiest venom I’ve ever spewed.  I screamed into the phone that he was a nobody and he didn’t deserve my pity and he made me sick.  Why did he not hang up on me?  I don’t really know.  He just listened and took it.  (And, no this wasn’t my husband.)

When I left Holly’s I was still feeling good.  Feeling like I had laughed in the face of an idiot and I had won.  I was back in control.  I was on my 3^rd full glass of tequila when I decided to drive back to the hotel after midnight.  That was dumb idea #2.  I hit a bump, that was really more like 3 bumps in a row, just as I had my glass lifted to my face, and half the glass of tequila splashed up on my face!  My eyes were on FIRE.  I’ve never taken tequila in the face before.  So I tried to use my black shirt to dab the tequila off my face.  Then looked down at my white shorts which you could now see through.  Plus I reeked of alcohol.  I pulled up to the valet, trying to tell myself that I can pull off “cool” still.  When I poured myself out of the car and nearly broke my ankle because of those shoes.  And I would pay good money to see the hotel security camera capturing me trying to walk through the lobby and appear sober.  I’m pretty sure it was clear that I was d-runk.

The first thing I thought when I woke up Tuesday morning:  Where the fuck are my pants?  Then, oh my God I’m still drunk, go back to sleep.

Then I heard about a thousand people singing the Spongebob Squarepants theme song.  And What. The. Hell.  Getting out of bed and flinging the curtains open I realize 2 things, 1.  My room overlooked the Dr. Pepper ballpark and it was packed, on a Tuesday, and 2.  I was naked, I’d lost more than my pants.

And that’s when I realized that I had done the Ultimate Walk of Shame.  I had mistreated another human being almost to the point of complete emotional annihilation.  And I still had my make-up on from the night before, only it was running down my face and smelled of tequila.  So, of course I had to make the apology phone call.  He didn’t answer.  I left him a message telling him that I have never been more sorry for anything in all my life and I hoped that one day he would find it in his heart to forgive me for everything I had done.

Then I called my husband.  Realizing I’m a complete idiot and asked if I could do the Walk of Shame back home.  He agreed to let me come back.  And we start marriage counseling on June 1^st.

I would be a total moron to walk out on this life.

Today I just want to remember everyone and all sorts of things.

Let’s take a moment and remember Kitty.  The first Housewife to leave us.  We first met Kitty at The Dinner Station.  Quiet and tiny and adorable.  She made us laugh and made us be serious and, I think, worked very hard at keeping us in line.

Then came Stella.  Lovely Stella with her model looking children.  She helped us get the ads started and was along for the ride where we fell in love with Omar Villafranca.

And, of course, Lulu (which I’ll talk about later) and Holly.  My bud’s.  My sisters.  We were so close there was even a time we went topless at pole dance class.

I think this is a good day to reflect on my favorite memory of being a Housewife, and it absolutely has to be the day we went topless at pole dance class.  We all felt so comfortable and laughed until we cried.  It was one of those rare moments where the room filled with love and laughter.

So, today, post here who/what you’d like to remember.  Today is your day here on the Housewives.  Have a good one!

So I was thinking, how is it possible that I can review a bar of soap and make it interesting?  I mean, it’s soap.  Slap me a brick of Irish Spring in the shower and I’m good to lather and rinse.  I like smelly good lotions and candles and such, but soap?  It’s just not my thing.

Until now.  Yeah, you totally knew that was coming.  Evolution Bathworks makes some really cool shit.  And I LOVE the way it’s packaged and priced.  I bought 3 bars and tied them with raffia for a teacher’s gift , perfect!  And I did smell good, even though I could still be just fine with a brick of whatever in the shower.  The price is great, and it’s all made right here in beautiful Collin County, and that fact alone won 2 Countini’s from me.

Sabrina gives Evolution Bathworks a cool 4 out of 5 Countini’s.

So I didn’t really have many expectations on the soap.  Soap is soap, right?  I just opened a box, and threw it in our shower, not even telling hubby to expect something different or to even try it.  I used it on my daily showers and LOVED it.  Once you start the soap actually gets bumpy, it feels like it’s exfoliating your skin, and it works awesome.  And the smell is amazing, there are so many different to choose from, and I had a hard time selecting.

So I love it, and I’m thinking hubby is still using his high octane stuff.  However, we were out shopping one day and happened to be buying razors or something, and he stopped and said ‘oh my gosh, I forgot to ask you, where did you get that soap?’  I was like ‘oh, you like it?’  He went on to tell me how he happened to use it and loved it.  He was asking if we had more, and if not could we order some.

As far as soap goes, this stuff is awesome.  My husband and I are both hooked and will be long-time customers.  I love the smells, and they’re not so perfumy like Bath and Body works, that at times the smell can make you a little nauseous.  Its subtle smells, that getcha clean!

Elanah gives it four out of five Collin Countinis.

I’m clean. I like soap. But I’m not a huge connoisseur of them. I don’t go crazy at Bath and Body Works and I don’t buy ones that really have a scent. Usually, I just go to Sam’s and buy my soap in bulk.

But, I do like the idea of nice fancy soap. It makes me feel luxurious. So I picked three of Evolutions soaps that seemed to have the least smell and brought them home to use in the shower.

I like. I feel clean. And I don’t have that squeaky feeling that I hate from certain soaps. I have naturally dry skin and it seems nice and soft after using the butter soap for a week or two.

Twila gives Evolution Bathworks 3 out of 5 Collin Countini’s.  It’s cool that it’s made here in Collin County

I’m one who really hates sleep.  I wish we never had to do it because to me, it’s hours wasted.  I spent college up for all hours of the night, and I would take my daily 20 minute power nap in the tanning bed.  Overall, I functioned pretty well, and I was extremely tan.  However, there was always a time or two that my body couldn’t take it any longer, and I would spend an entire day in a sleep comma.

So as I get older, I have found that if it’s not 8 hours during the night, there is hell to pay for all people who cross my path the next day.  In a stressed out evening last week, I spent the entire night working.  I literally finally made myself go to sleep when I knew I had two hours before I had to get up.  It was the biggest mistake because I’m not exaggerating when I say I was a raging Bitch.

Poor hubby just happened to walk into my office when I went off about God knows what.  I can’t even remember, but I went on and on and on.  And no, he didn’t do anything, just simply walked into my office.  Then I was on a conference call for work.  Somehow I got swept up in the heat of the moment,  when I received an IM from my boss to ‘tone it down’.  (And yes, I’m still trying to figure out how a work conference call got me so worked up…) I wasn’t picking fights, but it wasn’t the moment where I could handle someone telling me I was wrong.  I was like Godzilla.  If I had children, I think they would be forever scared by having to deal with me that day.  Hell, I think hubby is forever scared by it.

So in the desire to be functional and utilize as many hours as I could, it completely back fired.  I spent the rest of Friday afternoon, sleeping.  I then spent several hours on Saturday and several hours on Sunday, yep, sleeping.  The 6 hours that I saved on Thur night cost me 20 hours over the next three days.

I’m old…getting there anyway.  I just can’t hang like I used to.  Of course I once read Martha Stewart only sleeps at a max of 5 hours of a night.  I can’t even hang with dear old Martha, but then again, maybe it was the jail time that taught her to sleep light and with one eye open.  I’m not game for that.  I guess, I’ll just have to stick with standard 8 hour evenings and just deal with it.

Over the past year, hubby and I have been able to hear our eldest find his voice. What has started as just a few words has now turned into sentences and complete thoughts.

Of course we have hit a few bumps. Like when he started saying, “damn it” every time something didn’t go his way. Or, “oh my god” when something was surprising or exciting.

This weekend we hit a new word. Sort of.

As we were lazily driving to Grandma’s I started asking eldest what he was going to do during his visit. Eldest starts talking about his new favorite toy, Thomas the Train. Somewhere in the sea of words that came out of his mouth I hear, “Thomas has pussy.”

I quickly look at hubby to see if he had heard the same thing. Yep, that crazy smirk on his face says that he did. Suddenly it dawns on me that he is trying to say Percy. So I reply to eldest, “Did you say Thomas and Per-cy?”

“Yes Mommy, Thomas AND pussy and Grandma’s pussy.”

Holy shit! What fucking company decided to name a damn train Percy? Don’t they do field tests on this shit?

To top it off, Grandma gave eldest his very own Percy, so now my kid is going around talking about his “pussy.” Looks like its time to work on Eldest’s pronunciation a little more so he won’t get kicked out of preschool for talking about his “pussy.”

Twila

Prior to our trip to Fiji we updated our Wills.  The first time we did them we didn’t have The Baby, who is now 6.  And although our attorney included the language, “and any other children herein born or adopted into my estate included, “  I felt compelled to put The Baby’s name in the Will.  Because I could just see the three of my children sitting in the room and her standing up and saying, “What the hell?  They didn’t even NAME me in the Will??  Figures!  Mom always liked The Boy better , now we KNOW it!”  And then she would somehow get her hands on my remains and scatter me over the new dog park in Frisco.

And we needed to take out a few relatives that have either pissed me off or died.  But, most importantly, we needed to name a Guardian for the kids.  We’d not done that in our first Will.  We were 10 years younger and just hoped one of us would survive long enough that this wouldn’t be an issue.  But then Fiji came on the calendar and there are just so many ways we could die.  Plane crash.  Shark attack.  Malaria.  Stepping on that fish that looks like a rock that almost killed Brooke Shields in The Blue Lagoon , memba that?  Or bang our heads on the headboard in such a way that we both expire instantly.

Naming a Guardian is hard work!

I almost called Miss Snodgrass and Captain Sunshine to see if they would do it.

We ran through our family members, then our friends.  We wanted someone that would love our kids and would raise them in the same way we were raising them.  Then we decided we couldn’t put that kind of restraint around the process.  We just needed someone that would love them and could get them from point A to point B without dropping them.  Or dying before they got to be 18.  So we asked my brother, and he happily agreed.  And the kids, after being told that they would be living with The Brother should anything happen to us, went running around the house yelling, “Sqweeeeeeeeeeee!”  And then my 14 year old asked if she could have my treadmill.  And this caused all things of non-importance to require division.  The Boy wanted my ashes.  The Baby wanted my drums.  And I’m looking at a very LARGE collection of rare Lladro’s and I’m thinking, “What a bunch of dumbasses.  Must revisit the value of a dollar with the children, because seriously.  No I mean it , seriously.”

Our attorney is extremely thorough, so we don’t just have Wills, we have Disposition of Remains documents, we have Medical Power of Attorney documents , all in all we have 12 documents that go into effect the moment we die.  Husband signed on to be a donor.  I didn’t.  (I know.)  But then, he refused to sign the document that states if he’s hooked up to machines and is terminal and has been determined terminal by TWO separate doctors, then I can make the decision to let him expire comfortably.  He wasn’t comfortable with that.  So we spent a long time discussing what he considered “terminal”.  If he could communicate by eye blinking , he wanted to be kept alive for 1 full year to “allow for technology”.  And I was all like, whatever you say, but I might just trip over that plug.  That’s ridiculous!!  So, rather than laugh, he thinks I’m being beyond serious and refuses to sign the document.  He wants specific language in the document about eye blinking.  And this is so him.  Dork.