8 out of every 10 women are wearing the wrong bra size, 8! While the number seems staggering it is not surprising considering the amount of bad information floating out in cyber space.

In November I have the honor of standing up for one of my oldest friends as she says ‘I do’. This is a bit complicated by trying to guess how big I’ll be in my 5th month of pregnancy but I never thought it would take me hours to determine my size now! I have expanded a bit in the early weeks and knew I needed a good solid measurement to start with. We have to order the dress by the end of the week or we are scr-double-ewed.

I grabbed my soft measure tape and googled “how to determine bra size” One of the first sites to pop up looked very promising a Bra Size Calculator! I input the required measurements and giggle about how damn easy this is. 42B pops up… WHAT? 42B? BWHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA the last time I was a B cup was 5th grade! Sites like this are exactly why 35 million women a year make the mistake of buying bras where the band size is too big and the cups are too small! They took me from a DDD cup down to a B?? That is more than merely irritating, it is flat out irresponsible! Sadly THIS SITE also had my cup size wrong. My back size was correct but they suggested that I could squeeze into a D cup- not without looking like an elephant in a bikini! Amazingly one of the most concise and correct sites I encountered was for maternity bra shopping. Don’t be shy non-mothers-to-be the info is relevant to you too. Do realize if you are ordering bras online it is best to check a manufactures sizing chart for subtle cup size differences but your back size should not fluctuate wildly. For the record I’m a 40DDD which suggests when this baby is born I’ll find myself shopping for an H, I, or J cup again.

Laundry is my most despised chore. I hate it with a fiery and all consuming passion. I realize other find zen in it and I would like too, but it seems beyond my grasp. What chore do you avoid at all costs, sometimes even to the detriment of your family wearing underwear and such?

** My MIL is in the hospital for low calcium following her thyroid removal

** My FIL is being run ragged between his two jobs and now hospital visitations (the man is 64, he needs to slow down)

** We’ve had to come clean with family memebers, especially since my SIL showed up at inlaws house while I was taking care of the 40,000 dogs and washing to nasty dishes and throwing away rotten food. My tummy is entirely to noticable not to be an elephant in the room. SIL acted happy, but I know it must hurt some.

** I have not told my mother yet and probably won’t until the second trimester, unless of course my sister ends up coming here for school… then I’ll have to tell b/c she can’t keep a secret.

** My girls fighting nearly 24/7 is making me glad that school starts IN JULY. At this rate they will have to stop calling it ‘fall term’

** my underwear no longer fit. I think it’s fitting that I will be ‘going commando’ in cammoflage today

Soupcase, pisghetti, and mapkins were among my mother’s favorite Fidget-isms.
Nunky, Uncle Nark, and sobah are my favorite Mira-isms.
Today I bring you my favorite Tessa-ism wizzors

How good are you at deciphering kid-isms? Care to take a crack at my family’s mangling of the english language? Leave your translations in the comments. What are your favorite kid-isms? What were yours as a child?

There is no hiding my secret anymore, it’s obvious. I’m actually having to wear some maternity shirts already! After the congratulations or the rude comments abut how many kids I will have, the talk seems to inevitably turn to cravings or morning sickness. Thus far I haven’t had much sickness but good god! I have had some wicked and demanding cravings.

I’ve eaten nearly 3 pounds of Boar’s Head Ovengold roasted turkey lunch meat this week. Me, just me, 3 pounds. I.can.not.get.enough. What’s weirder than craving a turkey IV? My mass consumption of creamed spinach, Stouffers Creamed Spinach to be exact. When I discovered the forlorn box in the back of my freezer my mouth watered. I ate the entire box myself. I them proceeded to dream about creamed spinach for 2 days. I nearly creamed myself with joy when we ran out of milk, it was just the excuse I needed to wipe out Publix’s supply of turkey and creamed spinach.

I will openly admit that I was already agitated when I rolled into the frozen food section, the deli sucked up 45 minutes of my life that I will never get back. To my left was ice cream heaven, I heard it calling to me, I wanted no part of it. On my right the siren song of cream spinach carried through the frozen food cases to my ears, willing me closer like a ship lured to the rocks… Only they weren’t rocks.. They were stock boys, oblivious greasy pimply stock boys. They were standing in my way. I cleared my throat “AHEM” nothing. I tried again “AAAAHEEEMMMEMMMEEAAARRRGHHH”
“Bless you ma’am” polite yet still in my way. They chattered on about hot girls, their craptastic jobs and cars.. “blah blah blah blah blah”.. “Pardon me”
“Blah blah blah, nice knockers, blah blah blah blah blah mustang” Here is the point where I start have visions of decapitating them with my bananas. I should just know better and tote around a box cutter or at the very least a nice sharp nail file. With my last ounce of diplomacy I managed to avoid swinging my cart into their backsides and instead shoved myself between them “Whoa, Ma’am do you need something?” The stock boy looked at me rather concerned. I’m sure by this point I must have been foaming at the mouth. “Creamed spinach” I snarled as I snatched at the boxes… The last 2 boxes.. 2 measly box. Now how is a woman who can consume 3 lbs of turkey lunch meat by herself in a week going to be satiated by a lousy 2 boxes of creamed spinach? She won’t. In fact said woman will find herself casing the 46 local grocery stores for creamed spinach and find none. Oh cruel fate why must you hurt me so? I have been reassured that the frozen truck will deliver by Thursday at 11:30 am, it better be packing creamed spinach.

Remember the PS on THIS post?

or how about THIS entire post?

(It’s ok, go look, I’ll wait)…………

Click Here and all will be revealed

I have a doctors apoointment today,
I have no babysitter.
Who’s taking bets on how quickly that situation will go down hill?
I’ll put $20 on 10 minutes, thanks

Why 16 year old boys should not be allowed to run the register at the supermarket:

Boop

“Good afternoon ma’am, how are you doing today?”

boop boop

“I’m doing great, thanks”

boop boop, glances down at Vagisil tube and raises his eyebrows, boop

“Are you sure you’re doing great?”

(me having visions of shoving said Vagisil tube up his nose) “Yep, great”

ps The Vagisil worked fabulously on Tessa’s diaper rash

You need to go check out my renter, yep, the one in the side bar. She’s European and classing this joint up. I’ve been enjoying deciphering the cultural differences as well as reading about technicolor pee. When you are done with that, scroll down and read about my Wiener-esq-ness.

ps Could this weekend drag by any slower?

“What song or movie best tells the story of your life/family?” Is the latest writing prompt from the fabulous Crazy Hip Blog Mamas. My first reflex was to ponder songs. Music has always been such a large part of my life. I realized though that songs for me are more of snapshots, they connect with specific moments and events- they are not all encompassing of my history.

Oddly. when pondering the question I had to think about which family? Is the prompt in reference to MY family, the one where I am the matriarch, or is it in reference to the family I grew up in?

I find it amusing when someone asks about my “family” that I immediately think of my mom, dad, brother and sister. It’s not that I undervalue or disregard my husband and children, quite the opposite. Rather it seems to be an issue of perception. I forget sometimes that I am not still looked upon as a 16 year old girl. That I am woman who has gathered years of wisdom - me! YEARS OF WISDOM! Often when I look in the mirror I am shocked at the woman staring back at me. When I catch my reflection in a store window as I stroll with a tiny hand folded into each of mine I marvel and stare almost disconnected from the fact that is IS me and MY family, the one I have created.
This feeling of disconnect can easily be traced to how I grew up, I was Dawn Wiener. From the moment Welcome To The Dollhouse lit up my television screen, I felt an uneasy kinship. The school tauntings, the apathetic father, the beautiful and talented younger sister.. it was entirely too familiar. My first viewing put my stomach in knots. The kids hurling insults like “dog-face” and “wiener-dog” gave rise to the memories of jeers that greeted me daily. Her awkward attempts at befriending people and dressing just so, sent me down a dark memory lane. The only thing missing in my life was an older brother to start a rock band (mine was much younger, 8 yrs my junior). Several older neighborhood boys had filled the roll nicely for me though. *I* was that girl, splayed out on the hood of a car listening to bad garage band rock, watching the boy who I loved deeply play tonsil hockey with the older sister of my arch nemesis.

These days the movie is triumphant for me. It reminds me of what I have taken in stride, what I have overcome and who I still am in the corners of my heart. I’m still that 11 year old desperately looking for family approval, the smallest hint of cool, and something less then totally geeky to wear. I highly recommend this movie to anyone who can stomach a dark comedy and a possible trip down memory lane. The realism captured in many of the moments is astounding. For a more thorough and less biased review check HERE and if your local video store is completely lame you can always buy Welcome To The Dollhouse off of Amazon, you won’t regret it!