I just got an email from a friend of mine that’s having sleep issues with her baby. Apparently her baby isn’t feeling the sleep thing, but like any new mom (by definition that’s any mother with one child less than 2 years old), she talks about how she’s exhausted, and how the love for her child is what gets her up in the morning.

Can I be the first to call bullshit on that? It’s not love that gets you out of your bed in the morning, it’s the responsibility. If LOVE got people out of bed then I know plenty of people that would get up for chicken wings and beer. Hell, wave a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup in front of me and I’d be showered and in full drag in record time – if love was all it took! No, it’s responsibility. Let’s face it, if your kid had a snooze button you’d use it. Maybe not the first two weeks. The first two weeks you’re in that honeymoon phase where you still stand by the crib in awe of what has come through you and you still have to be peeled away and actually TOLD to sleep. Then reality hits about the same time the shit starts to stink. It’s about that time that Grandma realizes that this isn’t her kid and she can actually leave before the kids head starts spinning, .again.

So, at roughly four weeks, while Grandma is down in Costa Rica signing the deal on her new timeshare, new mom is pacing the floor trying to figure out how to get in just five more minutes of sleep. It’s at this point that if your pedophile neighbor offered to babysit so you could rest, you’d momentarily consider it.

And, when you’ve officially gone insane from the lack of sleep and the bleeding nipples, you inform your husband to get his lazy ass to Home Depot to buy duct tape, a tarp, and a deadbolt for the bedroom door, because when that bitch Grandma gets her Costa Rican ass back in town he has strict instructions to kidnap her and bring her back there so you CAN SLEEP.

But, perhaps this is just me.

I am planning on having a third child. Not right this minute, but sometime in the future. As y’all know, I have two boys. This is where the question arises from everyone that I meet, ” so are you going for that girl next?” I don’t really know how to answer that.

Yes, I have two boys. Would I mind another boy? No. I feel deep down that I might be meant to be an all boys mom.  It fits my personality. Would I be happy with a girl? Yes. Although it completely terrifies me because I can’t even braid hair, I think it would be nice to experience raising both sexes.

Here’s where my dilemma comes in. Do I actively try to have a girl? You know, read all the books, eat certain foods and have sex only on designated days at specific times and positions.

I’ve quickly looked this up and it looks like having a girl is tough stuff. So far this is what I have found out.

- I need to lose about 20 pounds because the skinner you are the higher the chance of a girl.

- I can not have drunkin’ sex (how my boys came along) because it does something to your body chemistry and kills all those X swimmers.

- I need to eat a ton of salad and lots of chocolate. Oh and no red meat.

- Missionary position.

- I need to dope myself up on Sudafed.

It just goes on.  If I look hard enough I will probably find a site that tells me the sure way to get a girl is to do some version of the “congress of cow” position and let hubby get up in there and do his thing.  That ain’t happening.

I think I’m gonna do what I did with my boys, just let it happen. What’s the worst that could happen? I have another handsome boy and never have to pay for a wedding? Sounds good to me!

We missed officially wishing this little website a Happy 1 Year Anniversary! June 6, 2008 was the first official post. I believe the 1st Anniversary is the diamond one, right? We want diamonds. Or 3 boob jobs. Or something. Come on man! We’ve been entertaining you daily for a whole fucking YEAR! That’s like an epic amount of time in the blog world.

Just think about how so much has changed in the last year. Smiley had her baby! Lulu passed away. I bought Ben Wa Balls. We lost Mr. Right and Mr. Big. But Captain Sunshine gained momentum! And look at Jim and all that we’ve learned about everything from him, the Cliff of The Real Housewives! Miss Snodgrass, always opinionated. A shout out to all our newcomers. And, the big change , the writers! We 3 have settled into a good groove now. We get along really well outside of the blog and have each other’s backs.

I award this blog and all it’s readers with the Official Housewife SUCK IT Cup today! Thanks for hangin’ around y’all.

So what do you think the next year will bring?

Oh man. When I was first contacted by Samantha Hall of Passion Parties and asked to throw a party I didn’t even have to think twice. Lotions, potions, and motions! Or, if you’d prefer: Dildo’s and Diamonds. Twila was set to make penis shaped cookies and chocolate balls. I had all the drinks covered (all Crossroads Wines with some Sofia’s, and of course Patron..holla!).

Eight of my closest friends, or maybe it was nine, I can’t remember because I don’t remember much after I put some potion on my clitoris in the bathroom. It was like giving it a straight shot of tequila, it got a little numb. And when it came ordering time I had lost ability to speak English. However, I remembered an email that Captain Sunshine sent me before the party and it said, “Buy some Ben Wa Balls”. So my tequila soaked brain yelled out “BEN WA BALLS!!” And now they are being shipped to me. (And for everyone that just googled Ben Wa Balls and landed here, aren’t you excited?) I also remembered that I wanted a fake vagina for “his” masturbating pleasure. So I shouted out, “GIGI, the fake vagina please!” (And welcome again to the googlers!)

Truth be told, it was an awesome night ending with a drive to Taco Bell for drunk people food and me playing a drum solo. That I don’t remember at all.

Samantha did a great job of controlling the situation. Ok, me. I was worried about the feather tickler giving me the bird flu and the lubricant giving me a yeast infection. And, apparently deeply concerned that, since I have no uterus, the Ben Wa Balls would get lost up in me and float around with my intestines, and then I would have to have surgery to have them removed and then I would be the most embarrassed human on earth. She handled all of this with grace and ease and made everyone comfortable. Including the fact that my first question was that I was concerned that the nipple cream would give me diarrhea because it contained aloe vera and vitamin E. I even asked her if she knew how many Weight Watchers points were in it. And she never stumbled.

So, with all that said Sabrina gives Samantha and Passion Parties a rare 5 out of 5 Countini’s. Everyone should do one of these. 

I guess I’m embarrassed to admit that I was a Passion Party Virgin before Saturday night. I usually head over to Sara’s Secret or to Dallas to do any of my adult shopping. So I was a little excited to see what the party had in store.

The products were fun, and there was so much to choose from. You could easily spend a lot of money: Lubes, nipple cream, edible massage lotion that actually taste good, and of course, dildos, dildos, and more dildos. I’m definitely excited to get my goodies. If you can’t find your g-spot after your first Passion party, then there’s something definitely wrong with you. There are numerous tools in that category. Of course if you haven’t found your g-spot before your first passion party, then there might be something wrong with you.

The party itself was a blast. Of course you have to be with a group of people you’re very comfortable with, and we had so much fun. This is a great way to get with girlfriend, giggle, drink, and dance on stripper poles. Well, at Sabrina’s anyway. Yes, we had stripper pole time, which fit perfectly with the theme of the party.

Samantha did a great job, especially for a newbie. She had a tough crowd, well a tough Sabrina anyway. But she held the party together, and kept it moving. Just remember as you play the ‘what’s the most exotic place you’ve had sex in’ game, a Ferris Wheel on Santa Monica Blvd is not enough to win. You need to be more creative.

Elanah gives it four out of five Collin countinis’. Everyone should book one of these for your friends. I mean who really and honestly can say that they have enough sex toys? It’s like shoes, you never have enough.

Amazingly enough, until last weekend, I was the only housewife who had attended a Passion Party before. Or at least something just like it. Here is where I admit that even though I am a total prude, I like them.

They’re fun. They bring people out of their shell and get you laughing at stuff. Sometimes you even learn a little something.

This party was no different. Filled with vibes and edible creams galore. Now, I have tried the nipple cream before (no, not the breastfeeding stuff). Cool I guess, it’s supposed to make your nipples all tingling and shit and then your luvah’s job is to lick it off. Bad news for me is that after having two kids attached to my girls I can’t really feel a darn thing.

So I tried the biggest thing, a cream you put down there to get yourself all hot and bothered. It worked. Instantly I could feel it. I think it felt good, but honestly I really needed Hubby to help me test it out to see if it worked or not. And well, it was an all girl party. I can tell you that about 12 hours after the application it did nothing for me.

We had a good time. It’s something every group of girls should do one evening. You know, something out of the ordinary. Plus, your luvah will love it when you get that little package of goodies a few weeks later.

Twila gives Passion Parties 3 out of 5 Collin Countinis

This is one of my favorite Seinfeld episodes…where they’re in the Hamptons, and the couple has the really ugly baby.  They think that everyone there has ‘gotta see the baby’, and it’s one of the ugliest babies that they’ve ever seen. 

So as I’ve mentioned before, my sister is my insider to the childhood world for me.  There are many things I just don’t understand, and she usually gives me insight from a parent’s viewpoint.   The one question I hesitantly had to ask her the other day was  ‘do you know if your kid is ugly?’ I felt horrible saying it because all kids are supposed to be cute, right?

The question came up because on Facebook we have a mutual friend.  Now this mutual friend has a little girl, who I guess is about three now.  She is just not a cute little girl.  Actually, I’m going to go down the homely route with her.  She has a unibrow and just not a cute face.  Let’s just say when I first opened her page and started looking at the photos, my first reaction was ‘ewwwwww’.   Yes, and I really did make an outright ‘ewwwww’ sound.

So my sister told me she thought the exact same thing when she first saw this girl.  It didn’t make me feel as cold hearted to hear those words.  However, I’m just wondering if mothers look at their little kids and are really honest with their looks.  I know it shouldn’t matter, but with as hard as we are with ourselves, do we hold the same standards to our little ones?

And I’m not a horrible person because there are children that I think are absolutely adorable.  I also see the ones who are average, but then you just have those ones who, well to put it out there, are ugly.  I have another friend where the poor baby girl looks just like her dad.  It’s like the movies where they make the adult head in the baby’s body, and it just looks scary.  Yep, she pretty much resembles that.  I think I would just ‘forget’ to bring the picture with me when someone asked, but then again, I’m shallow.

So do you think you know?

Dear Collin Creek,

Your time has come. It is time to retire. It is time to shut your doors and say goodbye to all of the teenagers that have loitered at your food court, elderly who mall walk, and stroller moms trying to escape home.

It seems like just yesterday you were the mall to go to and had all of the stores that I liked to shop at. But now, *sigh* not even the Gap will sell their khaki loving goods in your building. All of your good stores have left or going to leave for sweatier outdoor pastures at Firewheel and The Village in Fairview.

I know you have tried CC. You have had many face lifts and nips and tucks throughout the past 20+ years but they have not brought you back to your once vibrant and young look. It doesn’t matter that you now have a Dave and Buster’s knock off or a Santa with a real beard. It can not cover up the fact that you are now a has been.

So now CC, please realize that you are no longer the mall that I once knew and come to the awakening that it is time to say good bye. I will always remember shopping at Container Store and Bookstop out side your doors before any other stores were there. I will remember the crazy hallway of mini shops that you had on the first floor next to Dillards. And I will remember the time (or two) that I gave a random guy my phone number in front of the fountain that is no longer there.

Goodbye my dear Collin Creek, goodbye. I am now making my way to Allen and Fairview for all of my shopping needs.

With Love,

Twila

You know how as parents we’re always working toward activities for our kids? There’s always a game, a sleepover, a something for our kids on the weekends. Have we forgotten about our own social calendars? I mean, sure, I attend the gala broohaha’s that happen somewhat quarterly, but that doesn’t actually count as an Adult Playdate.

Our therapist thinks we need to schedule more Adult Playdates. And I am capitalizing it on purpose because I think it’s an event in and of itself. Dinner out with friends. Dinner at a friends house, or at your own. Adult Playdate. We just don’t have them. Maybe it’s just my husband and I. We are, admittedly, private when it comes to “us”. I go out and do my thing. Occasionally he heads out to lunch with his friends. But I can’t tell you the last time we had an Adult Playdate, (with the exception of Paris).

In Paris we met up with Husband’s old college friend, his wife, and their kid that happens to be the same age as our youngest. We took a cab to their apartment where at the last minute the wife threw in a lasagna and the kid tore up lettuce for a salad and they lit candles on the table and uncorked the wine. Flawlessly they handled our last minute dinner engagement with grace and ease. We entered their apartment and were instantly greeted by a kiss on each cheek from all 3 of them. And how cool is that? There was no awkward wondering if we shake hands, hug, take the coats, it was just easy. And it made me pause long enough to ponder why things have to be so forced, so elaborate here at home, and decide I have to write about this.

Adult Playdates are hard to setup. I may hate the wife, Husband may hate the husband. Or worse, the other couple thinks Adult Playdate means some sort of swappage of the Adults, and then we’re running down a whole different avenue, and not the one intended.

We decided when we returned that we would take turns introducing our friends to each other. So, don’t be surprised if you get a call from me and I’m asking you out on a date, with husbands. According to Therapist, we’re missing out on a fundamental need to be with other couples. (And, of course I think about Elanah and her troubled vacation, and I think , why in the hell would I want to bring someone like that in my life?)

What do you think about Adult Playdates? And do you have them? Isn’t it hard to find a couple that gets along perfectly with you and your mate? And, are we really missing out on not having Adult Playdates?

So I was able to spend a recent weekend in Vegas.  Now I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I LOOOOOOOOVE Las Vegas.  It’s just a place that you can go to live carefree for a shot time.  I typically do the two day trip.  Four days in Vegas is far too long, and honestly, the perfect trip is just one night.  This time, I was sticking to two nights.

So it all started off with a bang, first class upgrade, a fun first class cabin, all was good.  However, I stepped outside to what’s usually an extremely long taxi line, and I was the only one.  Yes, that’s right, THE ONLY ONE.  It took me back a bit.  I mean I had heard the rumors that Vegas was slow, but this was nothing like I could have imagined.  My taxi cab driver went on to tell me how slow it had been for a while now.  On this particular day I was his 15th passenger as he was ending his 12 hour shift.

So we got dressed, made sure we had VIP access to a couple of clubs, and went on our merry way.  We stopped at 9 in the Palms for dinner, and there were empty tables.  We then went to The Ghost Bar upstairs, and I hadn’t seen it that slow on the weekdays that I’ve been there.  I decided I needed to gamble and ditched my friends to hit the craps tables downstairs.  I mean, the craps tables had to be happening……nope, not at all.  At the most, we had four people at one table.  After a few good rolls, and then hitting a seven, I looked up to see I was the only one standing there.  This was on a Saturday night.

Now we still had a good time, but I must say it was all so disappointing.  Really, really disappointing.  The energy, the craziness, the fun, it just wasn’t there.  We went to Mix, on top of THE Hotel.  The view was amazing, but the atomosphere wasn’t worth my $16 martini.  Then even my dearest Hard Rock failed me.  This was a hotel that I literally didn’t step out of for 48 hours one time.   I never saw the sunlight that entire weekend.   However, this time after only 5 minutes, I was ready to leave.  They literally had half of the casino blocked off so the tables that were open looked busier.

This all goes with my President Obama, You’ve Got to Fix This Economy, post.  Boxed wine, and now a dead Vegas.  It all makes me sad.   I really hope this all turns around soon.  I can’t come home from Vegas feeling sad.  What the Hell?   It’s like going on amazing shopping spree, and then wishing you hadn’t spent the money.  It just doesn’t happen.

Just a quick note to say Happy Father’s Day to all you fella’s out there! I hope you have a great weekend full of sex, or bbq’ing, or skinny dipping, or whatever. I just hope none of you get a tie. You are all awesome men and I would give you all something spectacular if you belonged to me.

Happy Father’s Day from The Housewives to you.

Okay, so I’m not sure if it’s really the fastest slide, but it makes for a great story.  I’m warning you, it’s a little gross, but I have no shame.

So again, I’ll take you back to vacation.   One of our stops was near an active volcano.  And along with this active volcano came many stops for hot springs.  After hiking as close to the base of the volcano we could, we decided to enjoy the evening at one of the hot spring resorts. 

Well this resort had 25 pools, and one of the pools had 3 waterslides.  Hubby, and the hubby from the good couple, and myself decided to take on the slides.  As I got to the top, I asked the guy which was best.  He pointed to the one on the right, and said ‘this one’s long’.  Then he pointed to the middle one, and said ‘but this one is really good’.

I decided to do the long one, to try and get the most out of my climb to the top.  As I went down, I could hear hubby and friend’s hubby scream like girls as they went down the middle one.  I plopped out a few minutes later, and they looked at me and said ‘oh my gosh, you were still in that tube’. 

They went on to tell me how fast the middle one was, and it literally went as fast as 60 mph.  There was a group of people gathered around the middle one, just watching as people came flying out, trying to figure out where they hell they were.

I decided I wanted to do it.  I asked hubby to go up with me, and he told me no way.  I said fine and went up by myself. 

Now I had on a bikini, and the girls aren’t small.  So my fear was I was going to give the people at the bottom a show.  The guy told me to cross my arms in front.  So as displayed on the side of the slide, I was in perfect form:  Straight legs, sitting straight up, and arms crossed in front of me.  My goal was to come out looking exactly like this.

The slide down started perfectly.  However, as the speed picked up, I rounded a corner, which sent my head and arms flailing back, knocked the back my head , and then continued to get thrown around this thing seriously like a shirt in a  washing machine.  My head slammed against the side several more times.  Finally, I came shooting out, hands in the air, sprawled out, with a nose and mouth full of water.

As I came to, and tired to figure out what was going on, I realized my top had stayed perfectly in tact.  But then as I swam over to my friends and stood up, I discovered my tampon was almost out.  Yep, the pressure of the water shot my tampon almost fully out of me. I must had made a funny face, as I said ‘ah, guys I need to go use the rest room.’ 

I waddled my way to the bathroom trying not to lose what was hanging on by a string (pun intended), and well, had to reload.  I later spilled the beans to hubby that night, and he almost died laughing.  The next morning, in an inappropriate breakfast conversation, I spilled the beans to the other couple, and told them why I suddenly had to run to the rest room.  I’ve never had a tampon just shoot out me of like that before, and hopefully I never will again.