The Truth

The truth is this weekend sucked. The Boss has a particularly dramatic case of the Preschool Plague. Not that the Boss himself is dramatic, but this particular strain of the Preschool Plague features such lovely symptoms as a coughing until vomiting, red watery eyes and a fantasical fever  104.

It’s been a blast.

The truth is am exhausted. The truth is that TOTT and I spent all weekend at each others throats. The truth is everything I said was misunderstood and everything he said was misconstrued. We were quite a pair.

The Boss spent the first night feverish and delirious, not sleeping in bed with me. Huckleberry tucked in his small bed next to mine. TOTT spent the night sleeping peacefully on the couch, thinking he was doing the right thing as The Boss wanted only me, saying “go away daddy!” The truth is I hated him. I needed him and he wasn’t there. The moment I would get poor Boss settled was the moment Huckleberry would wake to nurse. As soon as I moved from my first babies side to tend to the second the first would scream out.It was an all night battle to get them both to sleep. One waking the other at all times. Lather, rinse, repeat. I believe I slept about an hour that night broken up into three 20 minute periods.

The next day was hard. TOTT was at work and then at a work dinner. The truth is I did not resent him for this. Work is important. Working hard is how TOTT cares for our family.  The truth is by the time he got home at 10 p.m. I had both boys asleep and was tucked in bed with Grey’s Anatomy, finally if only until one of them woke, I was off duty.

The truth is my wonderful husband thought he was helping. He hadn’t been home, he didn’t know just how sick Boss was.He brought him to bed with me and then left, went down stairs to take out his contacts, rest a bit and then come back and help me.An important bit of information I didn’t have.

The truth is I felt abandoned. I felt like I had been off duty and he put me right back on and left. The truth is this is NOT what he intended. But on 1 hour of sleep and a day of taking care of a very sick kid I was not exactly, how you say….rational?

The truth is I marched downstairs and flipped out on him. I was exhausted, making no sense at all. He thought I was mad he had gone to work,mad he had to go to the dinner. I wasn’t. I thought he wasn’t giving me enough, I don’t know what, credit? props? pats on the back? for having not slept and for having taken care of our babies.

The truth is when you are in the trenches it’s hard to not turn on one another. The truth is marriage isn’t always pretty. The truth is sometimes even when we mean to help, we hurt. The truth is we fight. The truth is we both felt unheard, unappreciated and yes, we both were oh-so-tired at the same time which is a recipe for marital strife.

The truth is I love him more than anything (except the boys and that’s a different kind of love) The truth is he loves me too. He made me a bagel with cream cheese this morning so I am taking that as proof that he does.


This weeks prompt for JustBeEnough was The Truth…people I am too tired to come up with anything more than just that. Today, this is my truth. Also? I am eating my feelings and right now they taste like Kit Kats.



You know when you need coffee so badly that you forget to put the cup under the Kuerig while brewing said cup of coffee?


You know when you buy new pillowcases for your bed because you just LOVE the pattern then realize it’s the same pattern as your blog background?

You know when your puppy is all warm from the sun and smells like corn chips?
Puppy Bear


You know when you are jealous of a fictional female Smurf and the undying love she inspires in your three year old son so you buy a Smurfette shirt in the girls department at Old Navy even though you don’t really believe in character clothing, especially for adults, but you are hoping it will make your sick three year old smile and maybe look at you with the adoration he saves for a damn blue stuffed Smurf?smurf



You know when you love all your blog friends and hope they have an awesome weekend and post oodles of pictures of their precious children in their Halloween costumes on their own blogs?

max Lightyear



Bad Blogger. BAD!

Hmpf. Nothing to say here. Move along.


Anyone ever feel like that too?

Maybe it’s that I  am heading off for my 3rd surgery on my lip in three weeks here in a few minutes. Or maybe it’s that I have done two million crafty projects today and my brain is on overload. Maybe it’s that I realized I STILL haven’t posted about The Boss’s Birthday, you know when he turned 3, in July. Maybe it’s not that I have nothing to say today, but have two many tidbits and projects and stories. Whatever the case is, it’s rainy and gloomy and delightful here, Boss is napping and I am gonna cuddle my Huckleberry for a bit before I let them slice up my lip. Again. Wish a gal luck!

Reasons to smile, there are many!

Five reasons to smile. Only five? I get down in the dumps, it’s true. I never thought I would leave Los Angeles, quit acting (for now), be a stay at home mom. I certainly never thought I would live with my in laws. But I find more and more that it’s harder to slip in the sad place. (I still do of course. Ask TOTT about the Big Cry Fest of Last Week.) Those trips down feeling sorry for myself lane seem to be getting fewer and farther between and are usually brought on from sleep deprivation. Everyone under the age of four in my household seems to be uninterested in resting lately. Everyone over the age of 21 is desperate for sleep.

The Just Be Enough prompt this week is 5 reasons to smile. Just reading the prompt made me smile. What a lovely thing to list, I might do well to list five things every week! In fact I just might. Maybe. We all know how well I stick with things, remember Friday Fabulousness? Or Monday vlogs? Ha! Discarded like Lindsey Lohan’s reputation.

Here we go! The inaugural five things list.

1.Buzz Lightyear

Boss decided late last week that he needed to be Buzz Lightyear for Halloween. Have you ever tried to find a Buzz Lightyear costume 2 weeks before Halloween? Pretty sure it’s right up there with the Holy Grail with things that are hard to find. Then a woman who works with Ma at school said her grandson had been Buzz when he was Boss’s age and maybe he would loan us his costume. Yay! This sweet boy didn’t want to loan it to The Boss, he insisted that he keep it. Needless to say he has been wearing it ever since! And the best part? He flies around crying out:



I am Buzz Lightyear Max, Strange Ranger!

It. Is. Hilarious. In case you are wondering, no we haven’t corrected him. This kid is so verbal that we rarely get little kid-isms, so when something like this occurs I hold on to it.

2.Huck chew

Hucklberry started laughing on Saturday. It’s utterly delightful! It’s squeeky and squawky and just awesome! He loves to be tickled, but more than anything he loves to giggle at Buzz Lightyear Max, Strange Ranger.






3. Fashion Blogs.Oh! I adore thee! Sometimes I play with the idea of putting on my Sunday best and taking photos like they do. I’ve no idea how they make those poses look good, but they do! And they sold me on tights with peep toes this fall, so there ya go. Also I cut my hair like one of them. I am easily influenced by shiny things.



wheels4. Pinterest. Oh heavens! Pinterest is my new relaxation, my new obsession, my new lovah. Everything on Pinterest makes me smile. Even the whacked out WTF stuff. Because really? People pin some weird hist. Where else could I find a picture of the very roller skates I just blogged about, a dude with his chest hair shaved into a heart, and my dream dining room?







picnikfile_Qgcr8t5. Shopping the house. Well, shopping in any form works for me, amiright? I need new bedding. It’s been ages and I am so very over what we have. What we do not have is oodles of bucks to buy new bedding so I flipped over my bedspread, stole some pillows from the couch (I need one more) and viola! New bedding. Not exactly what I want, but good enough for now!This also provides me with an excuse to get new pillows for the couch. Throw pillows are much cheaper than king size bedding.



It’s nice to have an excuse to look around and take stock of what makes me smile. What makes you smile? Extra credit if you tell me the craziest thing you’ve seen on Pinterest.Oh, Pinterest!

Link up with me @ Just Be Enough!

Don’t you hate when your mother in law is right?

“you go nuts if you don’t have a project!” ~My mother in law.

HARUMPH. And also…yeah, so? And also, can I paint that table Ma?

My mother in law is wise. And also nice. She lets me do things like bring home old windows and make a wreath out of an old shirt and put them up on the mantle.


She and my father in law cleaned out a massive section in the garage so I can paint during the winter. And oh yeah, they let us live with them. Bonus for my sister in law who recently said “I want a vanity!” and thus a quest was born. A quest I recently completed, and so a new one must begin!

 I found it on my weekly goodwill troll, 35 bucks, heavy, dovetail drawers, and stinky.

Good old BobBob and TOTT brought the van right over to fetch my treasure and people I could not start painting fast enough! Woman on a mission; c’est moi!
I firmly believe that almost everything can be rescued with white paint and new hardware.

I’m still on the hunt for the perfect mirror, but in the mean time we appropriated a Tiffany blue mirror I painted last year that was just waiting for, you know, me to have a place to put it.Keek has just started playing with it, but here it is in her room! Not back for a weekends work.
It no longer stinks FTR.

This left me without a project. I started looking around the house…something needs to be messed with, clearly! Luckily for my mother in law’s dining room table we headed off to North Carolina and there, about to be tossed out with the garbage was my new treasure. Now, don’t go thinking this is in fabulous shape. I have to replace both sides and have reinforced everything. It was clearly kept outside in the rain and used as a place to rest lit cigarettes. But that won’t stop me!


It’s already been sanded, and if I weren’t out of primer it would be already painted! It wants to be a soft gray and live by  my bedside. It also wants me to have new bedding. Because, obviously.

{linking up with Primitive & Proper and Miss Mustardseed check them out if you are looking for a billion things to pin on Pinterest. Are you on Pinterest? I am. Ob.Sessed.}



Name: Huckleberry Bear

Age: 4months.

crime: reckless non-sleepingness with intermittent nursing

If seen please cuddle immediately

REWARD FOR CUDDLING: tons of giggles and that awesome full body happy baby wiggle. It’s good for what ails ya.

What Fuels Me? Besides Starbucks, you mean…

{the brilliant Ann Noble and moi in And Neither Have I Wings to Fly}

What fuels me. It’s this weeks prompt from Just Be Enough. You know, my other site I’m trying to get you all to join up with? Well, not mine per se, but a whole bunch of amazing chicks and me.

So. What fuels me. Wow. I thought a lot about this one. It’s changed so much over the last five years. Ten years. When I was sick what fueled me was perfection. To be perfect. Perfection was this unattainable goal. Perfect control. Perfect looks. Perfection. Of course to me perfection was to be the thinnest. A stay in the ED ward did nothing but teach me a new standard of thinness. I still remember a young woman so thin she could fold in half on a metal folding chair and have room to spare. I envied that room. I was too big, too blubbery. I was not perfect.

I was sick.

Once I began healing from that what fueled me was vanity. I admit it. I was – oh who are we kidding I still am a bit- vain. Being an actress in LA is a constant state of crippling insecurity and overblown vanity. I embodied both of those. Perfectly. You either are the end all be all or you are crappola. There is no inbetween. When I was working a lot…I was awesome. When I wasn’t; I was shite. Believe me when I tell you I had exactly as much success as I allowed myself. I never pushed too hard or took too many risks. Just so I wouldn’t fail.

The longer I am away from Los Angeles, the clearer I am about the mindset I had while there. Not everyone is like that,mind you, I still love and miss my home sweet home. But this path, a path I never would have chosen for myself, has forced me to grow in some uncomfortable ways. It’s not been an easy journey by a long shot. It rocked me to the core, turning everything I believed in, everything I thought I wanted on it’s ear. I can now say that  *gulp* I am happier for it.

That still leaves me the unanswered question of what fuels me? The obvious and most important answer is my children. I still can’t grasp that I have children. Clearly the man upstairs has more faith in me than I have in myself! Every day I gain more faith though. With each baby smile, with each hilarious comment from The Boss I gain strength. The next answer would of course be my husband. A man so delightfully delusional he thinks I am hotter than Penelope Cruz. Bless him.

But we women know that one great struggle of ours-one we have grappled with since we figured out boys were cute, is not to lose ourselves. It was hard in 8th grade and it’s hard now. Not necessarily lost in a man, but lost in our children, our families, our careers. Just absorbed. Since we moved I was left with no identity but Zach’s wife and Max’s mom. I was totally lost. Before the move I was ME. Yeah, I was CAPLOCK ME.

Youknow the tale…a friend suggested blogging and now, 2.5 years and another baby later I finally feel like me. Not quite caplock me. But me. Still, I am puzzling over what fuels me.

Beauty? Not personal beauty but making thing beautiful; painting and redoing things.

Acting? Not so much right now. There was a time when I thought I would die if I didn’t act. I know now I can live without it, but I hope…no I WILL get back to it.

Starbucks? Definitely. But that’s not really what this is about.

I look back on my life (cue the Lifetime Movie overplayed dramatic music) and I realize that in some form or another I’ve always been creative. When I can’t act, I find writing. I find furniture…I learn how to use power tools. My Road Theatre Company friends would laugh at this, as I was always useless at set builds and strikes. Now, get outta my way! I can build that wall, paint that table and when we’re done break it down in record time.

I am still figuring out who I am now. Living here. With my in laws, my wonderful husband and my amazing boys. But I do know one thing: I am creative.

I am fueled by creativity. And like me, creativity is, in it’s essence changeable.

What are you fueled by?

According toThe Boss

The Boss is a big fan of This Little Piggy.  I can’t blame him. It’s fun and involves tickling. Plus, Huckleberry sports some fantastical tootsies to piggy. I myself like nom on them. That’s not weird is it?It’s totally acceptable to nom on toes that are less than 2 years old. Less than 10 month toes are a pure delicacy I believe. So, back to the matter at hand- or foot as the case may be. The Boss is all over This Little Piggy-ing his baby brother.

It goes like this:
Huck feet

This little piggy went to Target.

This little piggy stayed home.

This little piggy got an icee.

this little piggy got none.

And this little piggy went pee pee pee all the way home.

Just Stop.

*disclaimer- this was supposed to post yesterday, but I borked the publish time. Yay me! let’s pretend I didn’t and all shake our fists and blame wordpress. even though it isn’t their fault at all. silly wordpress!*
{how cool is this? Kim from Rubber Chicken Madness made a sign from my post and put it on her mirror!}

I am thrilled to be over at Just Be Enough today sharing a letter to my future self. We are starting a new project over there,I know writing prompts are a dime a dozen these days but I really believe in (and need to work on this myself) the idea of accepting that we are enough just as we are  while working to better ourselves. I find we women are way to hard on ourselves.

I once saw the guy who did Roger Rabbit’s voice do stand up at the improv and I remember he did a great rant on how a woman can look in the mirror and only see the imperfections. My belly is too flubby. I look tired. My neck! What on earth is happening with my neck? I am fat.I am bad. etc. etc. etc. A man will look in the mirror, beer belly and all and think DAMN! I look good!

Now, I don’t want to be a dude, but I would never talk to a friend the way I talk to myself.Hell, I wouldn’t talk to a stranger they way I talk to myself! I’m working on it.

Anyway, I wrote a letter to future Stephanie. Come check it out! Please?

the end of innocence


Just yesterday driving in the car one of The Boss’ favorite songs came on. I didn’t know it was his favorite song, but he quickly informed me that it was and the kid knows every.single.word.

He sang away in the backseat but I was instantly transported back to my childhood and Wheels Roller Rink. You see, Wheels was the awesomest place ever when Sister Dub and I were little. I’m sure Mumsy and Sister Dub’s Mumsy just loved taking us there every Friday night. Actually I am sure they had a lovely little chat as Dub and skated in unending clockwise circles until BAM it was was reverse skate. We practiced skating backwards, circles and figure eights. Crying our little 7 year old hearts out in the back corner by the lockers when no one asked us to couples skate.

Le sob.


One such Friday night I was really getting my groove on, rocking my skates with the pom pom attachments and coolio denim jeans with roller skate appliques on the back pockets. I’m pretty sure was a rainbow or a unicorn shirt happening as well. There I was skating my little heart out, jamming out to the tunes and singing at the top of my lungs while fluffing my Dorothy Hammil haircut. (which was way out of style by the way).

Suddenly my childhood came to a crashing end. Some guy, about 25 or so…so practically ancient, was laughing at me as I clapped, skated and sang the words. The wrong words.

For the record, I still sing the words wrong.

I love Rock and Roll put another dime in the jukebox baby I love rock and roll come sweetie pie and dance with me.

I went from free abandon enjoyment to devastating self conciousness. Embarrassment practically stopped my orange glittered wheels from rolling. I made a quick escape off the black lit rink and into the corner of the locker bank, my hot tears burning as they ran down my face. Mumsy tried to explain that the young man (probably a father there with his own kid that was jamming out and skating too) wasn’t laughing AT me but rather was enjoying how much I was enjoying myself.

Far too complicated a concept for a 7 year old.

Nope. He was laughing at me because I was clearly  stupid.

Back in the real world, I found myself bemusedly laughing at the Boss’s free spirited rendition of the song. Especially the ‘so we can be alo-wo-wo-wone’ part. He was putting his heart and soul into it, clapping and kicking his feet…I stopped laughing. I started car dancing. Shut it, you know you car dance too.

When the song ended I told Boss that was flat out the best singing ever and if Joan Jett heard him she would hand that song right over and never let anyone else ever sing it. He beamed with pride crying out and signing  “AGAIN! AGAIN MOMMY!” Unselfconscious as ever, childhood innocence still in check.

Thank God.