Real life barbie

Looking perfect can be taken to an entire different level. Take for instance Cindy Jackson. She is known for being the real-life Barbie Doll. Rumored to have spent over 180,000 on plastic surgery, Jackson markets herself as looking like Barbie, including here own personal website, www.cindyjackson.com.

Here is a link to an article about Cindy and her transformation.
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2004/07/29/48hours/main632909.shtml

Do you think there should be limits to what we can change about ourselves? How much would you spend to change how you look?

Home Wreckers Beware!

In Mississippi, there is an old, seldom-used legal doctrine called "alienation of affection" that allows a person to sue an unfaithful spouse's co-cheater. The idea was en vogue in the late 19th century, when the law viewed women as something between children and property -- i.e., innocent creatures that were, regrettably, incapable of resisting the wiles of unscrupulous men. But since the 1960's most states have abandoned the idea, either by formally abolishing the law, or just by gradually ceasing to enforce it.

But now, some in the South Carolina legislature want to bring it back. A legislative committee approved a bill that would let a spouse sue anyone knowingly having an affair with his or her husband or wife. While the law ultimately didn't pass, it got a good bit of support, and has started people in other conservative, Bible-belt states talking. I imagine Mississippi, having just toyed with the idea of "covenant marriage," wouldn't be too far down that list.

Initially, my gut feeling was that this is a great idea. But upon further reflection, I'm not so sure. Don't get me wrong, I believe that if you knowingly have an affair with a married man or woman you're asking for serious negative consequences. But should you be sued? Are you, the co-cheater, the one who "alienated the affections" of the cheating spouse? Or is it the other way around: did the alienated affections lead to the act of cheating? Either way, is this really going to deter anyone? My guess is that most extramarital affairs don't start with two people sitting down with a yellow legal pad, listing pros and cons, with the latter including "possible legal liability." Any thoughts?

Seven Things To Do With Tissue Paper

1. Give it to your daughter to decorate the toilet and the floor around it. Wait for her to say "Ta DAH!

2. Plug in your ears to ignore your husband, when he is complaining about his clothing not being washed.

3. Stop your nose from running while you are chopping onions.

4. Use as a paper towel to clean kitchen counter.

5. To fill up your purse up with when you are broke, to look like you are fully-loaded.

6. Get those size 9 BcBG pumps and stuff the tips to fit your size seven foot.

7. To Wrap Christmas Gifts of people you just don't want to buy gifts for them.

What can you do with tissue paper?

What do you do for YOU?

What small luxuries do you allow yourself? Things like a really good haircut or an occasional pedicure? Time for hobbies/exercise? Taking fun classes? Evenings out with the girls?

Pre-baby, most of us probably spent alot of time looking after our own wants and needs. Post-baby, time for ourselves plummets by an impressive percentage. While I haven't found that time for myself (and my relationship with my husband) is non-existent, it's definitely takes more work to arrange.

What are your priorities when it comes to yourself? What won't you compromise on?

How I Accidentally Met My Husband

I'm new at this. In fact, I'm probably the last person in the world to start blogging. (Number of Google hits for the phrase "last person in the world to start blogging": 22,400. So perhaps not.) Anyway, to start things off, let me tell you something about me. Let me tell you how I accidentally met my husband, which ultimately led to my being both a mom and a permanent Mississippian, thus qualifying me to post here.

I was 17 at the time. I already had a boyfriend, who hopefully does not read this blog, but in any event was a loser. I had just been to a national debate tournament in Florida (where I lost every round) with my debate coach and one other team member. They were my only company for an entire week. I was desperate to talk to somebody --anybody-- else.

After a lousy week, we set out for home via the Miami International Airport. Brett was there with his team, in the same terminal waiting for the same flight back to Jackson. I knew who he was. He had quite the reputation on the forensics and debate circuit. The general consensus was that he was an arrogant jerk. That's probably because he won every event he ever entered. On the rare occasion he placed lower than first, he was rumored to have broken the second place trophy in half in the parking lot afterward. Legend has it he threw a chair at judge after one particularly heated debate round, because she dared to give him some negative feedback. That may be apocryphal, but to this day, debate judges in Mississippi are discouraged from giving oral critiques.

Anyway, I decided to approach with caution. I expected him to be awkward and condescending, but he happily accepted my company. He proceeded to show me his poster of Jim Carrey as the Riddler from Batman Forever, which he'd purchased in the airport's Sharper Image. As I talked to him, I got the impression that he was actually a nice guy. A weirdo, yes, but a nice guy. Also, he had never been on a date. Later, on the plane, when my coach offered to switch seats with him so we could sit together, he declined. Clearly, this was not a case in which coyness and subtle hints would do the trick.

I didn't see him again until the first debate tournament of the next school year. Fortunately, by that time I had wised up and dumped the loser boyfriend. Unfortunately, Brett remained wholly unable to discern romantic signals, unless they were plastered in bold, neon letters across a billboard. I decided I would have to make the first move, and informed him that he would be attending my prom with me. I asked him whether, in the interim, he would like to go on a date, just for practice. He said yes. Our first date was Chili's and The Park on Lakeland. He did that whole cliche' where the guy comes up behind you and "shows you how to putt a golf ball." It was adorable.

Anyway, we've been together ever since. That was almost thirteen years ago. We debated together in college, and were married by our college coach, a licensed minister. Who says extracurricular activities aren't important?

Growing Pains

Do you remember your first day of school? I recall, very vividly, my first day of school. I was finally old enough to join my older sisters in "real school" . I was up early, put my uniform on, let mom pull my hair up in ponytails, and grabbed my lunch box. As we arrived at school, the excitement was overwhelming. I was there, in school, finally!

I remember looking at my mom, and seeing tears in her eyes when she finally left to go home on that first day. I didn't understand why she was crying, why was she sad?


I hadn't thought about that day much, not even that first day I dropped my daughter off at preschool. Until this morning.


Today was her kindergarten graduation. She was so proud and so happy, because now she is a "graduate". Her father and I couldn't be more proud.


As they called her name and I watched this uber confident girl walk up to the principal and shake his hand, my eyes filled up with tears.

It was then I understood why my mother cried all those times, my graduations, my wedding, the birth of my children.

One day my kids will become parents too, and maybe then they will understand too why their mom cried.

Love Conquers Sickness

I have been sick since Monday night...fever, chills,stuffiness, and etc... You name it, I was complaining it. I finally sucked it up last night and took a NyQuil, remembering not to nurse "Jake the snake" anytime soon. My husband called continuously checking on me. I was impressed, especially since I find myself having to call him back to back to get an immediate response.

Well last night, when my husband gets home, he is complaining about feeling awful and so sick. I feel so sorry for him. He works two jobs to make sure we have the necessities and pleasures of our heart. I know he doesn't want to call in, since he's missed so many days, staying in the hospital with our baby.

Well, I get up (he gets off about 3:45- 4 am) and help him prepare for bed with a whirlpool bath mixed with rosemary and bergemont oils.

Today, he was still sluggish and sick, but off to work he goes(He has to be there at Noon). He follows a routine to prepare for work, but today he was so out of it. He even forgot his wallet, and he had to return for it. After calling him to check on him and not recognizing his voice, I decided to take Sandi's advice and take him some green tea.

We arrived in Madison at about 5:30 pm and I stop at Starbucks. I really like their green tea. We wait 45 minutes for him to take his break at his job. Boy, I am having to be creative with activities to keep the crew busy. Anyway, when he comes down, I really recognize his sincere appreciation for that 1.54 cup of tea.

Looking at him sip the tea and seeing how tired and sick he was, I saw my husband in a new light (again). He is a dedicated father and husband. He is sick, and he refuses to let the sickness overwhelm him.

I am saying this to remind you to show your spouse or significant other that you care. The smallest token of love can have the largest effect.

Crafts meet Earth Day

About 2 and a half years ago, I'd lost enough weight that a pair of my jeans were too big for me, which was kinda good because there were holes in the knees and that's been out of style for a good 20 years. Instead of throwing them away, I said I'd make a reusable grocery bag out of them. Then I had a baby. You all know the rest of that story... no time to breathe, let alone make anything.

So today, in honor of Earth Day and laundry day (hooray large amounts of downtime between loads!), I decided to go ahead and make that bag.

Here is my pair of size 26 jeans. Yes, they're big. But they worked.















My creativity is usually only expressed through cooking (hence the *ahem* size 26 jeans), and I have never actually sewn anything other than a pillow and a hem. I didn't have a pattern because I don't think I'd know how to use one anyway, so I grabbed a paper bag out of the laundry room and measured it.















The large sides were 17x12, the small sides were 17x7, and the bottom was, you guessed it, 12x7. I got to cuttin' and quickly realized why I didn't like crafts. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a bruise tomorrow between my thumb and forefinger. Jeans are tough little pieces of material to cut through.

Finally after all of my tears and toiling, I got all my pieces. None of them were especially rectangular since I apparently don't know how to cut a right angle to save my life, but by george, I can work with trapezoids.















I grabbed some green string because... well, I already had a bobbin mostly full of the stuff (See! Conserving! Makin' the Earth happy!) and because I had really given up caring what this thing looked like by now. I sewed all the sides together, noting that I had written my directions on the wrong sides and again, not especially caring. I sewed all the sides together, leaving only a few holes in the corners. I cut the waistband in half and used it as handles.

And voila... here is my bag.















Let us avoid concentrating on the fact that this bag is a complete aesthetic nightmare, and instead concentrate on the fact that I expressed my creativity in a way that won't make me gain weight. Also, helping the environment, bla bla bla.

Next time, I will buy fabric instead of forage it. I will use the grocery bag as an actual template and will trace it on to the fabric. I will sew the pieces together correctly.

Scratch that... I'm buying the bags at Kroger.

Play don't fight

Today, I was destined to teach my children to play peacefully. So many times I had to interject to encourage no fighting and no screaming. I think it worked. Once I told them that playing block times were over, I was amazed as how they continued to play. As I am typing now, my house is finally peaceful. The quiet dialogue between middle daughter and oldest son was very impressive. It was so nice not to hear the high pitched screaming and yelling of no. However, that made me think, what is the baby going to do? Right now, he is quiet and content. My goal now is to teach them how to get along. It is so important to their social skills. Sometimes, dealing with my children I become the certified teacher all over again. I guess I had the classroom management down.

Why I shouldn't take the radio so seriously

I was listening to the radio last night on my way home from one of a thousand errands. The DJ was running a call-in promotion where the caller had to finish the sentence correctly to get a prize. "Fifty-eight percent of women have admitted to doing this..."

While the song was playing, I was considering the answer. Calling in sick because of that time of the month... Doing makeup in the car... Dumping a boyfriend because of his unibrow... Changing clothes in a public place...

The next caller said "They threw their shoe at their boyfriends! I do it all the time! He makes me mad, I throw my shoe at him!" Har, har, har. The male DJ laughed along and asked if she was single, which she admitted was, in fact, the case. I sure don't know why.

This, my friends, is what's called a "double standard." Had it been a man that called in and said, while laughing, that he throws his shoe at his girlfriend every time she makes him mad, 101.7's phones would have caught on fire. Instead, we're all supposed to laugh along with this girl and cheer women's ability to abuse their men.

Female-partner-on-male-partner abuse is not an earmark of the advancement of feminism, and it is not something to be proud of, ever. It's not evidence of equality in a relationship. It's the earmark of emotional immaturity and an inability to control one's rage, just like it is in men. I pray that this girl doesn't have children, and that she matures exponentially before she has them. Abuse is bad because, among many reasons, it begets abusers - even if it's Mommy abusing Daddy.

I never heard the answer. I was so angry that I had to turn the channel.

What do 4 kids in a hotel room and fish have in common?

Answer: "They both start stinking after 4 days!"

As some of you know, I recently had an unexpected guest come to my home....the top half of a 60 foot pine tree! You would think my troubles were pretty much wrapped up in that sentence, wouldn't you? Well, you would be wrong! Here is what happened AFTER I came in to find my new pine furniture.

First, my quick-thinking husband booked what had to be the last hotel room in the tri-county area. Then we sat like refugee staring at the damage while we waited for my older children's buses to pull up. With the call put in to the insurance agent, there was no use hanging around so we left to check into the ever-popular LaQuinta. The trip through the damage and with no street lights took a mere hour and a half.

Now here is where things get really interesting. Have you ever been in a room for 4 days with 4 children and 2 queen beds. Not to mention no TIVO, no grown-up shows, and no room to separate children playing golden gloves? My two year old immediately ripped the cord off of the telephone(he has never seen one with a cord before so I don't blame him). My 10 and 12 year olds started arguing over who got what side of the bed and whether we should watch "Zack and Cody" or "What I Hate About You". All the while my 5 year old is sobbing because the outdoor pool will not be open until Summer. It was at this point, I thought I saw a tear in my husband's eye.

The next morning, after falling asleep to Nick at Night we all awoke to "Sniper no Sniping", and my husband cursed when he caught himself singing the Dora theme song in the shower. We killed a few hours at the Bass Pro Shop, but after my two year old took down the tent display we thought it may be time to go back to the room for nap time. There was a short lived game of spades while the youngsters slept which ended in accusations of cheating, tears, and vows to seek revenge. That was from Dad, the girls were being pretty good.

So finally it is Monday, and shooting for normalcy we awoke at 6:30 to get ready for school and for Mom and Dad to go work on the house. Here's a tip...don't let your 5 year old pack a bag under the supervision of a 10 year old! Audree ended up going to school in a Titans cheer leading outfit, her sister's underwear and flip flops. I sent a note to explain.

Yesterday was the day we were finally given the okay to move back into the unaffected rooms of our house. As I hung plywood with my husband, I received a call from my 5 year old's teacher. She said Audree had gotten up to tell the class about her recent adventure. Here is the gist of it....

"I live in the hotel now and some things are good, like we get to eat Sonic and sometimes even Arby's for dinner. We have a pool, but they have to fill it up before we can use it. We get to watch lots of TV. We have a tiny refrigerator, but there isn't a cooker thing so Daddy just uses it to put his beer in. Mommy is kind of sad because the tree broke her house, and Daddy is sad because we are 'breaking his nerves'."

It just goes to show you that hotel rooms with kids and fish have quite a bit in common.

Being Away

Yesterday, I had a television interview to attend. Sitters came to the rescue providing a sitter for the evening. Using Sitters requires a minimum of three hours. After finishing my interview, I had an hour and a half to parlay before returning home. What was I to do? I have been craving alone time. I have even complained about needing some time to breathe. I had time to myself and no children crying, begging, fighting, arguing, and etc... Amazingly, I went home early to be with the children. I missed them dearly. I missed the arguing, fighting for my attention, the begging for a cup, and the crying to be held. Has this every happened to you?

Pulling up in my driveway to see two small heads glued to the front door was even more assuring that I had made the right choice. Sitting on the sofa, the fighting to sit close to me wasn't so bad. It was actually comforting. It was worth getting home early. My children deserved to be around their mom. One day, they will be more independent of Mom. Right now, I better enjoy it.

How to measure yourself for a bra.

Supplies you will need:
1. A tape measure
2. A full-length mirror
3. pen
4. pencil

Optional: A good friend (if you are comfortable)
To measure for your bra band, keep the tape measure even and measure underneath your bust. It is important to make sure the tape measure is just right. This is very important to your support. Write down your measurements. If the number is even add 4", and if it is odd add ".
To measure the cup size: make sure you are standing up straight. Measure at the fullest part of the bust area. It is helpful to have a friend to do this measurement for you.
To calculate your bra size, subtract your bra band size from your cup size.
For each inch difference the cup size goes up by one.
Hope this helps you with your bra fitting.
Keep the girls happy.