The one where I get interviewed...

You guys are not going to believe this, but I'm going to be interviewed and featured on this site: Mommy Page. I know, you're all wondering if they actually read my blog before picking me. That was my initial thought too. Then I thought maybe I was being punked. Because, I hear you all saying, "But, Spot, you're more like the anti-Mommy." I know, right? But they must have read my blog because the interview questions actually pertain to a post or two. And those questions? Man, they're hard. I'm freaking out just a little. But don't tell anyone, it would ruin my image.

So I'm definitely going to do the interview and I will let you all know when it is up; hopefully, you'll find a minute or two to sneak over and check it out, leave me a little comment love, and generally promote a site that apparently doesn't want to be preachy or "cookie cutter"ish. Let's face it, if they did, they wouldn't touch my blog with a ten foot pole. I mean I've openly admitted to not knowing where my children were every minute of every single day; letting them endanger their health by climbing tall trees, handling snakes (okay, so I totally did not encourage that, quite the opposite), riding without pads or helmets; and snarking at them. But, hey, they survived and became mostly functioning members of society (provided you don't ask Lu where any European countries are located or think that plans for total world domination is an odd life plan for a guy).

I've also stated numerous times that I'm looking forward to my children vacating the premises. I get really funny looks for that one sometimes. And it makes me wonder if people think they want their kids to live with them forever. And if they do, what kind of accident was it that caused the head injury that knocked your screw loose? Because, let's face it, no matter how close you are to your offspring (and anyone reading this blog knows that I'm nearly super glued to mine), there comes a time when you want some space. And I'm not talking about locking yourself in the bathroom for ten minutes with your fingers in your ears, refusing to converse with anyone standing outside the door. (You know you've been there, don't try to deny it.) And after raising them up, I deserve some "me" time. Or better yet, some "me & mike" time. So while I love them dearly, and will cry copiously the day they move out, I will also do a secret (okay, now that I've put it in writing maybe not-so-secret) happy dance.

They need the chance to blossom. Lu needs her own house so that two adult women with different ways of doing things aren't trying to survive in the same kitchen. Sean needs to not have me cook for him, clean his room, balance his checkbook, and amuse him on a routine basis. They need to flaunt their independence, make some mistakes, and become fully adult. Do I wish they weren't both moving half a continent away? Definitely. But I also know that there's nothing much around this area for them. We've always raised our children to want to get out of dodge and find their own niche in the world. I'll miss them like crazy (especially my adorable grandson) but there are cell phones, skype, and air travel. I'll make use of them all. Frequently.

And Mike & I? Well, I need time to devote to work and not feel guilty about neglecting the family. We both need a little less stress and a little more downtime. And we need more couple time.

And guess what? Lu & Sean took baby Dylan to visit his dad in Texas. So the next six days are a practice run at being empty- nesters. I'm only 8 hours in, Lu's called once already, but I'm kind of liking this silence thing. Just me and six sleeping cats. I'll let you know how it goes...



♥Spot

The one where I pay homage to Oil of Olay

Seriously, if you're not using it- you probably should be. That shit really works!

My mom got us started on moisturizing our skin at a young age. It was so ingrained that by the time I was a teenager, I didn't even think about it. Shower, moisturize. For me, it goes together like peanut butter & chocolate, Beer & pizza or swimming & summertime. It just fits. First we used Noxema, then as my mom got older she switched to Oil of Olay. As did I. And while I often write about how silly I think it is for women to go to extremes to stop the signs of aging (plastic surgery, botox, expensive dermatological treatments), I don't think its the same thing as using a product here and there. Or dying your hair (because seriously- I'm in massive need. These grays are getting ridiculous). So I dye my hair, I moisturize with Oil of Olay and recently I started using the Covergirl Oil of Olay foundation. Its a little pricey, but worth it. Case in point~

Sean and I took CJ back to school in Springfield on Thursday last week. We had also planned a shopping trip to get some of Sean's gear for his travels this summer. Springfield has a store called Gander Mountain and that's where we headed. Well besides camping gear, Sean has been wanting to buy a new hunting rifle. So we mosied on over to the gun department. The manager, a guy probably my age, came over to help us.

Manager dude: What kind of hunting rifle are you looking for?

Sean: Small game. I was thinking maybe I'd try Coyote hunting.

Manager: How much were you looking to spend?

Sean: About $750. *insert me choking here. $750?! WTH?*

Manager: I'd recommend this blah blah *that was when I tuned out- although I noticed that the tags on the guns said "varmint"-that made me giggle some*

Me: Do you have a card or something? Do you get commission? Because we aren't buying today.

Manager: No, but I'm the manager so it all helps me. I'll write down the gun info. If you guys are going to comparison shop don't let anyone talk you into the blah blah, its just not a good gun.

Me: Oh we'll probably come back here, its just that he's not 18 and I don't have a FOID card.

Manager: That is a problem!

Me: Its okay, we have plenty of friends who are over 21 and FOID carriers. We'll bring one of them.

Manager: Well just be sure they have the money. We can't do sales where one person is buying and the other is paying. It just looks funny. Like if you were buying the gun and your brother was handing you the cash. *he must have noticed the startled looks on me & Sean's faces*

Manager: I mean, well, uh, I just assumed he was your brother.

Me: He's my son.

Sean: Her youngest son. *thanks for that Sean*

Manager: Oh. I'm so sorry!

Me: Are you kidding me? You just made my day. Possibly my week.

Seriously guys, its the Oil of Olay. Or the blood sacrifices to the full moon. Nah, its the Oil of Olay.

Happy Monday,
♥Spot

Me & Weird Al make our confessions...

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Usher's "Confessions". There was a first song where he tells the woman he loves he was cheating on her. The second song tells her that the woman's having his baby. Weird Al decided to do part III for him...



I picked the video with the lyrics printed so everyone would get them. My son made me watch this and I was rolling!! Hope you enjoyed!

Now for my confession...I've been leading a double life. No, not the really cool kind like where I'm a secret agent and stuff. Although, even if I was I couldn't tell you without having to kill you so I wouldn't tell you anyway. So really, you don't know for sure I could still be a secret agent. And no, not the kind where I'm a secret stripper on the side either. Because if I was, A.) I probably would not have time to blog. and B.) I'd be rich. And I'm sooo not. I'm like the opposite of rich. Oh and C.) You've seen pictures of me. I'd be way buffer and hotter because you have to be to make money as a stripper. Right? Unless, they're paying you to put your clothes back on. Hmmm...! No, my other life is my other blog. (Geez, what else did you think I'd be talking about?! Blogging quite obviously is my life).

I'm not just Spot. I'm also Gert at The Gert and Hildi Chronicles. My sister is Hildi. And she's pretty freakin hilarious. So you should go check it out. We started the blog after I realized that her emails were funny and I was reading them to people. I figured why not just do our emails in a blog? I also thought maybe it would make her answer back sooner but apparently she doesn't respond to blog guilt. Because she takes her sweet time getting around to her turn. (Yes Hildi, this means you!).

So why Gert and Hildi, which are so obviously not our names? Well, my folks used to have this monotone answering machine that was soooo boring I hated hearing it pick up. So one time I decided to be a smartass (color you all surprised, right?!) and leave a fake name and so I said I was "Gertrude von Beaverhausen" (and yes, I totally stole that name from Karen on Will and Grace. So when my dad called back he asked for Gertrude and then he just started calling me Gert. So my sister (of course!) was all like I want a nickname too. So I told her she could be Hildegarde because it sounds like some huge German female bodybuilder. But of course she shortened it to Hildi which sounds all cute. *sticks tongue out at sister*

So last year at my cousin's bridal shower we had to address envelopes to ourselves so she could send thank-you's for the gifts and we both addressed ours to our fake names. It was funny. Well, funny after my cousin figured it out. So, I've even gotten mail addressed to Gertrude. Hehe. Wonder what the hell my mailman thought! So now, you know my deep dark secret. Well OK. So it's not very deep. Or dark. But it's all I got. Your turn?

Hope everyone had a relaxing weekend,
♥Spot