David: “I’m dying a slow death watching this show. I mean, I’m clearly losing days off the back end of my life while watching this – I’m sure of it.”
What my husband said after watching The Bachelor with me on Monday night.
My heart started beating a bit faster when I spotted Hammerpress, a letterpress boutique I just happened to stumble upon while driving all of my 3 stinky boys to see Sesame Street Live in downtown Kansas City last weekend. So after surviving 2 hours of Elmo, Bert, and Big Bird singing, dancing, and counting, I made a bee line back to the paper place.
Hammerpress makes the most pretty products. There, you’ll discover interesting and unique cards, posters, prints, and notebooks – all made with the most beautiful and saturated inks. I literally wanted to buy everything in the store. Everything. But I restrained myself and only bought about half of the store.
I mean, I try to practice self restraint whenever possible.Pin It
One of my favorite gifts I received this holiday season: Birchbox. It’s the gift that keeps giving! And for beauty-a-holics like me, it totally feeds my addiction in an affordable way.
Birchbox, in case you haven’t heard, is a subscription service which delivers 4 – 5 sample beauty products to your mailbox once a month, every month, in a beautiful box with pink foil lettering.
And, I literally clapped and jumped up and down when I opened it and saw all the pretty packaging.
The best part: the goodies! There were 5 good sized beauty products in the blind box, some I’ve heard of, some I haven’t. And all of them totally worth trying.
The best part about Birchbox: the price. It only costs $10 a month to have the beauty box delivered to your door!
Try it! You’ll like it!
“The good news,” he says to me, “is you don’t have any tumors.”
I thought he was joking at first, the radiologist, but I could see from his scowl he was serious.
“But you do have other issues going on,” he says slowly, “that’s for sure.”
Of course I have other issues. Who doesn’t? But I assume he’s referring to something other than my garage door compulsion. I mean, does anyone else drive around the block just to make sure it’s closed?
“You have acid reflux,” the doctor continues, “which is bit bizarre since that’s something old people like me have, not you.”
My family physician warned me I might have acid reflux. When I sat on her paper coated padded table a couple days prior and complained about a weird lump in my throat, she said I was describing a text book acid reflux symptom. But she said I should see a specialist for more tests, just in case.
“What other issues are going on,” I ask.
I could tell he either didn’t want talk or didn’t have time to talk, either way, he was going to talk. I mean, I just swallowed a bunch of barium for him, the least he could do was talk for me.
“Well,” he begins, “your general practitioner will go over the results with you in detail, but I did discover, in addition to your acid reflux, you have a hernia, an ulcer, and a belly full of harmful bacteria.” After taking a big breath he continues, “But don’t worry, you’re not contagious.” And with that, he smiled and walked away.
The nurse told me to get dressed and not to worry. “Your doctor will go over your results in detail,” she repeats, again.
When I met with my family physician the next day, she sucked her breath through her teeth when she walked in the room where I was waiting before saying, “you have a lot of issues going on.”
“I guess,” I agree.
She pulls out her pad and writes me 6 prescriptions. I am now popping 20 pills a day, every day, for the next 14 days for acid reflux, a belly full of bacteria, a hernia, and an ulcer.
And it’s been brutal. Real. Brutal.
I’ll spare you all the incredibly gross and incredibly gory medication side effects.
I’m all about a pop of color pump these days. I mean, does #8 look familiar? I wore them to drinks and dinner just the other night. But even though I own a pair of pretty pink pumps, that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve another.
Neon yellow, anyone?
David: “Just so you know, no boy will ever say ‘no’ to that question.”
What my husband replied when I asked him if I could eat his pickle – his dill pickle that was served with his turkey sandwich from the deli.
You learn a lot about people when you’re the only one not drunk at your husband’s holiday work party.
“I’m obsessed with hair removal,” one woman shouts at me across the four person table top that at least eight of us crammed ourselves around.
“Really,” I scream. “You’re obsessed with hair removal?”
The band was playing so loud, you had to yell for the person inches away from you to hear you.
“Me too,” pipes up another lady.
As usual, most of the girls migrated together to chat about the typical topics of babies, working out, and cute clothes, while our boys were bellied to the bar cracking inappropriate jokes, drinking beer, and talking about work.
“Yes, I’m obsessed with it,” the first woman carries on. “I want lasers to remove every hair on my body. Every. Hair.”
“Every. Hair,” I repeat like a parrot.
“Yes. Every. Hair,” she continues. “But until I can laser my arm hair, I’m just shaving it.”
“What do you mean, you’re shaving your arm hair? Your under arm hair,” I scream as the band seems to have taken it up a few decimals.
“No,” she giggles. “I mean my forearm hair.”
“What? You shave your forearm hair,” I say as I choke on a swig of diet coke.
“Yes,” she shouts. “I have for years, that’s why I want laser hair removal.”
“Look at my arms,” I say as I raise my sleeve. “I have hair on my forearms. That grosses you out?”
“Kind of,” she sheepishly smiles.
All the other ladies at the table quickly agree.
“Seriously,” I question. “Forearm hair is gross?”
“It is,” the answer from all the woman crashes over me like a wave.
I was shocked. I had no idea forearm hair was so repulsive. I mean, I’ve never even thought about it.
“So,” I continue to clarify, “You all think I should shave my forearm hair?”
“YES,” all the women reply a little too quickly for my liking.
Here’s the thing, I have never heard of this extreme aversion to forearm hair. And what’s more, I’ve never even noticed whether or not girls have it. I am stunned to learn the blond fur on my forearm is so repulsive and all these ladies either shave it or laser it.
“No woman should have forearm hair,” she says again while nodding no.
And with that, the topic changes to babies and which woman wants to have another one.
And that, my friends, is the stuff you learn at your husband’s holiday work party when everyone is drunk except you.
Just thought I’d share.
David: “Don’t worry, I know what will fix it: A Subway napkin. It’s works just like a band-aid.”
What my husband said to my 3 year old after he fell down and bit his tongue.
In October, Target announced its next designer collaboration was Jason Wu for Target, and two days ago, the big box store revealed two pieces for the line: A poplin dress and satchel, with the pieces priced at $40 and $50.
And I want both pieces, please.
Lucky Magazine then released an ad for the line. The latest look, as pictured in the collection’s print campaign, is a pleated striped frock that is feminine, sophisticated, and I want it, too. Milu the cat (and muse of the collection) also makes an appearance, wreaking havoc in the most adorable way possible with a spool of ribbons.
The limited edition collection debuts at Target stores nationwide on February 5, so get your credit cards and calves ready, ladies. It’s going to be a mad-scramble at the mega retailer once it’s released.
David: “Too bad I just clipped my toenails, otherwise I could grab it like a hook and pull it up with those.”
What my husband replied when I asked if he could grab me the magazine at the bottom of our bed.
Since I started writing 3 Stinky Boys and Me in the spring of 2009, I’ve never really thumbed through the archives of it. But the other day, David was trying to remember something sweet our 5 year old used to say when he was about 2. Neither of us could remember, exactly, what Reichen used to say. And it made us sort of sad. Later, after all my 3 stinky boys were in bed, I searched through the years of the blog and discovered it – the sweet thing my baby boy used to say!
I started this blog several years ago, for that very reason. I wanted to capture our feelings, thoughts, and happenings of how we were at that exact time. I don’t blog for the money, or the ads, or to become a super famous blogger – I do it because I want to remember everything. Everything. Especially the stuff the passing of time erases from my memory.
And for all of you who have followed My 3 Stinky Boys and Me’s adventures for the past several years, that’s icing on the cake. Thank you so much for reading my little blog and supporting our family. I have made some amazing friends, whom I know I’ll meet one day and I love hearing from all of you and following your adventures through your blogs.
Happy New Year!!!