Deck My Bod with Scented Oils....Spa la la la la....la la..la...laaaaa

I am writing this particular entry in order to attempt to win a spa service...or two. Normally, I do little more than scratch silver off a cardboard paper in order to win a contest (or lotto if you will), but this was more than I could resist.

The theme of the "blog" was to be why YOU deserve a day at the spa...why YOUR life is so crazy. I implore the reader to read the previous entries....and hope she agrees. However, I can sum up some of the reasons simply. Her is my bestest attempt as "WOE IS ME" :

1. I have not slept in approximately 22 months for more than 3 hours at a time.

2. I have a herniated disc, and congenitive disc disease which required surgery. I do not go to PT because I couldn't foot the $60 a week, and I cannot have surgery with a toddler at home

3. In addition to my FOUR children, I have 4 pets. A dog whom craps in the house at least once a day, and a cat who is ill...and vomits in the house a least 3-4 time a week.

4. I had a great job, which I lost while on maternity with my Mirena IUD baby...

5. During the last 5 weeks, all three cars I owned have been damaged. My husband hit a muffler on the road which flew up and ripped off his door handle. My Son was in a collision and we are in a legal battle to fix his almost totaled ...4 month old car.

My SUV his a rock on the highway which flew up and cracked the windshield. Total damage of all 3 is approximately $6500. None have been repaired as of yet

6. My 18 month old still nurses. And has not spent ONE night in her own bed..which, by the way is in her room...which by the way is literally, a closet...a walk in, but a closet nonetheless.

7. My teenager is in trouble...a lot. I have to get a babysitter every couple of months in order to appear in court. I also have to make time to meet with his probation officer at least bi weekly. My house has gotten egged, and random hoodlums have shown up in my street looking for a fight in the middle of the night.

8. No one in my neighborhood can alternate driving to school. As such, I am the sole taxi driver for 5 kids plus my baby...I often go to school in pj's and slippers. (cliche, I know)

9. I foolishly got a nose ring 3 months ago...which is now infected, however, I cannot take out until healed. I look like I have a giant wart on my nose.

10. I haven't gone to the hairdresser in 5 months.

11. My husband is unable to "babysit" the kids without them calling me at least 4 times when i TRY and go out.

I am sure I could go on.......but someone is screaming outside...and I think I heard the word "blood".

Life is......Good?

It began a couple of months ago when I received an email from Dave , forwarded from his company, about the annual "Life is Good" Festival. I must have been in a good mood that day, because normally, the very uttering of that phrase conjures up a myriad of negative and sarcastic thoughts in my brain. Not to mention the cost of the tickets. It was $124 us dollars to buy into the notion that life is, in deed, good. Again, I must have been in a particularly good mood.

Fast forward to the day of the festival. I wouldn't expect anything less than to have it fall on the day in which Ava had her first soccer game, and Liza her first Lacross game. Luckily, however, the weather couldn't have been more perfect. (yes...you read it here folks, a positive statement)

I awoke early, (about 7am), and rounded up the troops. (I was in my usual, bitchy, and mostly mean mood) I figured we could at the very least, get Ava's soccer game in as it was early. Showers were taken, uniforms donned, fan chairs loaded in the car, and the Beast (aka my car) left the driveway at 8:30am. I had a few extra minutes to grab my hot Dunkin coffee, and egg and cheese wrap. Now, the particular Dunkin chain normally has me pull to the parking lot when I order food, which rubs me completely the wrong way...if I wanted to park, I wouldn't go through the drive thru. I was completely prepared to verbally assault the teenager who dare utter the words "can you pull to the front for your sandwich?". I was going to tell her I wouldn't do it, and then give her no less than 4 reasons why. Unfortunately, she passed my food out the window. Oh well.

We arrived at the field at exactly 10 minutes before 9. I was perplexed to see no one else with tangerine shirts on. (i know, tangerine is an odd uniform color...and very difficult to match to funky tie dyed knee highs). It would be several minutes before someone broke the news that the game was actually at 10:30. (life is good?)

We went home and decided we would just fore go the game and carry onward to the festival. We packed the cooler, the car and the Kids. It took about 5 seconds for the kids to begin fighting over which movie to watch during the 1 hour ride. I settled it with my usual name calling, threatening to leave the family, and then offering a bribe if they would just shut up. (life is good?)

It was about 25 minutes into the ride when a loud thug hit my windshield....and about 10 minutes later, Dav realized that the windshield had cracked. Why not...I mean, I have only had this car for about 4 weeks. (life is good?)

Ok, shake it off. We get off the exit and there is a plenty of direction as to where to go for the festival. Arrows, policemen and the likes directing us to the parking garage. Which, I might add, was no less than a 30 minute walk to the festival. (life is good?)

Upon admission to the park, we find a decent spot to park our blanket, chairs, and cooler. I am beginning to feel like I am back at the beach. It was lunch time, so we ordered up some overpriced burgers and fries, and tacos (which I would come to regret later on)

I quickly derived that I would enjoy people watching over anything else the festival would have to offer. I was a little surprised how many hippies there still are. Shirtless men with dreadlocks, long haired woman with peasant skirts, wearing their babies in all sorts of wraps. The man sitting to the right was wearing a skirt, and the women to the left were lesbians. (life probably IS good for them)

We headed the the "children" section. A nice woman handed Liza a balloon. She said it was one of the arms to a "person balloon figure" that had come apart. I thought nothing about it.....at that time. Dave and Liza were several paces behind me and the Feek (emma). Dave pulled along side me and was chuckling. (quite unusual). He then proceeded to tell me that everyone was laughing at Liza. I was confused, until I turned around to find the "balloon arm" tucked and protruding from the lower half of her tshirt. It look like a giant penis balloon, and she was shaking her hips an flinging it all around! I swiftly ran to her, and being an open and honest mother, told her "take it out, take it out....it looks like a giant pee pee!". Anyone that knows Liza can imagine her horror. She pulled and pulled, however, the bottom of the balloon was stuck...a woman came alongside and uttered..."umm...what is that supposed to be??" I know, I know....I told her, I know it has a phallic appearance but its an arm...and I am going to pop it shortly. At this point, I could not contain my own laughter. (Life is getting better)

The day dragged onward and it was only a matter of time before we had to use the porno john. (that would be Lizas term for porta john...despite my constant correction). It is hard to be picky amongst thousands of people and hundreds of toilets, however, we were going to try. For each "green" handle, signaling a vacant toilet, Liza would peek in, and report on the findings. A quick shake of the head, a dry heave, a "no TP"....until a thumbs up was attained. This took more time than I thought. Plus, if we didn't get out of the area soon, we were both going to get high from the overwhelming odor of the mary jane. (we were, as it seems, at a modern day Woodstock, after all)

Only about 3 hours into the festival, Emma began melting down. So did I. The task of chasing her out of everyone elses things was getting increasingly more difficult, and the place was getting extremely crowded. There was a woman two blankets in front of us with a 2.5yr old who was constantly nursing. This left me feeling very confused. I felt like I was not the only one still nursing, however on the other hand, I dreaded that this could be MY future a year from now (?).


Now, completely contrary to this event, were the young couples everywhere. Hugging, kissing, dancing...some even making out. I was a little bit disgusted, but a little more jealous. I felt like rufie'ing myself. Wait, no, I am here with my HUSBAND and CHILDREN.

As I looked around at the thousands of people, my mind begins its antics. I look at each person, and imagine what they do for a living, what their curtains look like, if they have a brother. Then I begin to obsess about how much money was made by the life is good people. At $50 an adult, I don't even think I could count that high. Then, I begin to wonder how many farts were let go during the day, and I couldn't even imagine how many.... given the line at the taco tent. (I know this is insane of a woman of my age, and life status....its the little boy who lives within me..or the seepage of weed into my brain from the bathroom section)

Seven hours later, I had enough. I put my foot down and demanded we leave. I was tired, the kids were tired and we had a long walk to the car. I packed up, began walking (Emma insisted she be carried). I passed a woman and actually stopped her to ask where she got, and the name of her child carrier. Just hours earlier I was saying they looked like chimpanzees carrying their chimp babies....and Ironically, I will be ordering an ERGO tomorrow. I took the biggest whiff I could as I passed the porno johns and away we went.

The kids were asleep with in minutes of being in the beast. Despite the overwhelming smell of beer breath in my car during the ride home (hun), it was another successful mystery ride. Life IS good.

"Run Forrest...Run".....Adventures of A Kiddy Gym Mom

I did something I never thought I would do. In fact, I actually made fun of the parents who did this. I joined a parent /child gym class....with Emma.

The coupon came in the mail for a free trial class, so I thought "what the hell", right? Its not like I have anything better to do.

Most people that know me casually may think that I am a very social person. I like to organize get togethers, I love to throw parties, and I am lucky enough to say that I have a wide range of very good friends...most of which I have known for a very long time..with the exception of a handful. That is because, I am somewhat socially awkward. I do not like meeting new people, I do not like being thrown in a large group of strangers and expected to drum up idle chit chat. Period.

Couple that with the fact that I think organized "parent" groups are plain old stupid. Attending a class is without a doubt a big step in my new found SAHM-dom.

A couple of days before the class, Em and I went to Marshalls to pick her up some appropriate workout wear. I was pleased to find two Adidas sweatsuits. One black with white piping, the other pink with white piping. Obviously, I chose the black as it was much easier to match with my 45 black pairs of sweatpants and 37 white t-shirts.

Coincidentally, the gym class began on the first day of school for the older girls. I would bring them to school, and head on my way. (I wont lie, while in the school yard I did receive some "ribbing" about Emma and my matching gym outfits. However, I knew we looked crispy)

(CRISPY: adjective; definition: neat,clean,trim,fashionable,with it,very good-looking)

I arrived at the class promptly at 9:10. The class was to begin at 9:15. I looked around and quickly began sizing up the other parents and children. I should mention that I bumped Emma up into the class above her age group as I tend (or at least in my own head believe) to breed athletic overachievers.

First off, Emma and I were clearly the best dressed....or at least the most appropriately dressed...for the occasion. There were babies in there with sundresses on for Christ sake.

I mean, seriously, how can these parental units expect there children to outrun, jump and flip anyone in a sundress? Then I though, good. The better for us. While these lily wearing Pansy toddlers were feverishly trying to get their visuals back after having an onslaught of ruffles strewn in their face, my little Mary Lou Retton prodigy will be flipping circles around them. (even if she DID look more like Bruce Jenner)

The "teacher" instructed all the parents and children to sit in a circle on the big red mat. She spoke in an extremely high voice...almost in a song like manner. She was small, and her pants matched Emma's to a tee...which only validated the appropriateness of my outfit of choice.

She handed out bells and began to chant this "welcome" song. Most everyone new the words. This was the first clue that I was a fish out of water, and I felt more uncomfortable then when I first walked in. I was desperately hoping that the rest of the class was less structured, and that Emma and I could roam around and explore the various centers on our own.

Not happening. Contrary to that, ehat happened next was, or could be, my worst nightmare in this type of setting. The instructor began another such chant. This one was meant to introduce the parents and the children. A series of claps and she began to sing "my name is blah blah and this is blah blah and this is ......" Unfortunately, I chose to sit directly to the right of her, so naturally, I was up first. As I continued to clap, I followed her lead with the "song" . "My name Je' en and this is...." I was abruptly interrupted by high pitch Suzy gym instructor. "umm...you don't have to sing. A barrage of giggles passed over the crowd and I wanted to crawl into the foam balls and take my chances that there may be a puddle of toddler pee...or boogers...or poop.

"Oh, sorry...I was just following your lead. My name is Jen and this is Emma...and I want to jump on your 85 pound frame and kick your ass because you just affirmed WHY I don't do shit like this." (ok, the latter part...after "Emma" I didn't actually say out loud)

After that, we were told to run in a circle. As each parent lead their child, I was quickly annoyed by how slowly they were moving. I figured it was a free for all, so I encouraged Emma to dash onwards, and I was very proud as we passed those dress wearing girly girls. (its never to early to develop a healthy sense of competitiveness). When it was over, I gave Emma a high five and repeated to her "we won, we won". Skinny instructor lady came over and put her hand on Em's shoulder and said...its not a competition, we are all having fun). (clearly, I joined the wrong institution)

The rest of the class proceeded uneventfully. I tried to engage Emma in all the activities, but I would be lying if I didn't admit I was intrigued by tattoo covered mom, long pony tail dad, and the mom AND dad who doted over their ginormous headed son.

When class was over, I felt Emma had enough fun that I would sign up for the fall session. It cost a whopping $300, which made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

We hopped over to marshalls and purchased 2 new outfits. A pink Nike suit, and a purple Polo velour suit.

A week passed and the second class commenced. There were significantly MORE people and I was significantly MORE uncomfortable. Emma was not as thrilled to be here. (regardless of how well she looked in her nike pants and Madonna t shirt). She cried and ran to the door. I forced her to stay and brought her to the uneven bars during "introduction" time (dodged that bullet). She loved swinging her little body all by herself. That is, until, ponytail dads chunky little boy (I swear he was 3) ran in her way and she kicked him square in the face sending him 2 feet into the air. I was mortified. OK, I wasn't mortified, I was impressed. Plus, that kid seemed old enough to know not to run square into swinging feet.

This, however, upset my Em. She again ran to the door. I whisked her up and gently whispered to her "these people are freaks.....and they have no athletic ability whatsoever. Lets go to Dunkin and get some munchkins...you've earned it..and so did I"

I am seriously contemplating whether to go back next week. The money paid is a strong pull, but my urge to resit parent child groups may be stronger.