Lisa Roecker's Blog, page 39
January 3, 2011
Putting Your Toddler in a Tiara
So, let's just say you have a baby. You work hard making this baby. It gestates and grows inside you for months. You nourish it, you feed it, you take ginourmous prenatal vitamins to try to make sure it ends up with ten fingers and ten toes.
Your doctor tells you to take more vitamin D. You do it.
Your mom tells you not to lift anything heavy. You listen.
Your husband begs you to stop going to the gym. You bid adieu to the elliptical.
You do everything in your power to make your baby perfect. And then it's born.
All of the sudden your baby is out in the world and people are judging it. Your friends and family RAVE that your baby is beautiful. They claim it's the best baby they've EVER laid eyes on. You want to believe them.
You look at your baby and try to be objective, but it's really hard. After all it's your baby. You wonder if it's really ugly and maybe you don't realize it. You wonder if everyone hates your baby but they're just too scared to tell you.
Realistically you know that not everyone is going to like your baby. In fact, there are people out there who are going to say your baby is whiny or boring. But knowing that and experiencing that are two very different things because like it or not, this baby is a part of you.
All of the sudden you turn into one of those crazy mothers on Toddlers and Tiaras. You wonder if you should have put her in the pink dress instead of the purple. You briefly consider getting her those scary fake teeth things so her smile isn't quite so gummy. You obsess over the judges' every facial twitch as they look at your baby and you wonder if there was something you could have done differently. Something you could have done better. You cry. A lot.
And then you remember at the end of the day it's your baby. People will love her and people will hate her, but no matter what anyone says about her, you are proud of what you've created. Because she's all yours.
Your doctor tells you to take more vitamin D. You do it.
Your mom tells you not to lift anything heavy. You listen.
Your husband begs you to stop going to the gym. You bid adieu to the elliptical.
You do everything in your power to make your baby perfect. And then it's born.
All of the sudden your baby is out in the world and people are judging it. Your friends and family RAVE that your baby is beautiful. They claim it's the best baby they've EVER laid eyes on. You want to believe them.
You look at your baby and try to be objective, but it's really hard. After all it's your baby. You wonder if it's really ugly and maybe you don't realize it. You wonder if everyone hates your baby but they're just too scared to tell you.
Realistically you know that not everyone is going to like your baby. In fact, there are people out there who are going to say your baby is whiny or boring. But knowing that and experiencing that are two very different things because like it or not, this baby is a part of you.
All of the sudden you turn into one of those crazy mothers on Toddlers and Tiaras. You wonder if you should have put her in the pink dress instead of the purple. You briefly consider getting her those scary fake teeth things so her smile isn't quite so gummy. You obsess over the judges' every facial twitch as they look at your baby and you wonder if there was something you could have done differently. Something you could have done better. You cry. A lot.
And then you remember at the end of the day it's your baby. People will love her and people will hate her, but no matter what anyone says about her, you are proud of what you've created. Because she's all yours.
December 31, 2010
The Best of LiLa: #TravelFail
Hotels are dirty. Well, at least according to Dateline and the Regulator. Oh, and I guess I have inside information—take it from me, the bathroom in room #314 at the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago will never be the same. Anyways, we werescarredraised with a very specific set of hotel occupancy rules.
1. NEVER step bare foot on hotel room carpet no matter how nice you think it looks. (The carpets are only cleaned once a year.)2. NEVER use a hotel comforter. (My husband likes to play this game where he traps me inside the comforter which results in me having a panic attack. Fun!)3. ALWAYS wipe down the toilet seat before sitting. (You can't be 100% sure that they've been thoroughly disinfected. Apparently the Regulator had friends who worked housekeeping in high school and she's never looked at hotel rooms the same since.)
For the record, I follow these rules religiously. I have even added a couple of my own.
1. ALWAYS check for bedbugs. (You don't even want to know.)2. ALWAYS avoid touching shower curtain with anything more than your nails. (I almost cried once when the entire thing got stuck to my body.)3. ALWAYS avoid letting your bare skin touch anything within the hotel room. Particularly upholstery. (It can't be disinfected.)
I guess I sound like a germaphobe. I guess I am a germaphobe. Damn you Dateline and your black light, damn you. Anyways, during my most recent travel fail, I learned that these rules do not apply to 20 month olds. Let me back up…
We rang in the New Year with family in Charleston. It was fun (aside from the fact that Lydia woke up no later than 5:00 AM. Every. Single. Day.) The morning we were scheduled to leave, Lydia woke up barking. BARKING. I never believed that a cough could actually sound like a bark, but I stand corrected. Watch out fellow flyers, we've got a barker on our hands. Good. Times.
We made it as far as Atlanta and were trying to console our little barker when the delay to Cleveland was posted. First an hour, then two, then three…then CANCELLED. Throughout the four hours we were in the airport, Lydia managed to touch a piece of chewed gum stuck on a chair, pick up a furry-looking French fry and bark in the face of at least five people. I have rules for the airport too, but I was forced to abandon them after I watched Lydia pick up and promptly consume an M&M she found in between the cushions of two seats.
Lucky for us, the airline put us up in an airport mhotel. I threw the 'm' in because "hotel" is a loose term. I didn't even need a black light to know that the comforters on the bed hadn't been cleaned since the early 90's. And, I know, I know, it could have been worse. We could have been stuck sleeping in the airport. Now that would have been an epic blog post.
Anyways, within minutes of unlocking the mhotel door, Lydia had cuddled up on the bedspread, wedged herself between the wall and the bed making contact with bedspread and carpet simultaneously, put the remote control in her mouth and touched the toilet seat. My head almost exploded. Because our luggage was on its way to Cleveland (how that works, I'm not sure), I used a bar of soap to wash my hair and scrub down Lydia, attempted to "comb" my hair with my fingers and threw the barker in an unsanitized mhotel-provided pack-n-play.
Silver lining? She was asleep within seconds. Bark + one hour flight + four hours in airport + touching as many pieces of germ-infested mhotel furniture as possible = one tired baby.
Flight from Charleston to Cleveland: $300Tetanus shot to clear baby of any germs ingested via the dirty M&M: $145Mhotel Room provided by the craptastic airline that stranded you in the first place: $0
Child sound asleep in potentially swine-flu-infested-mhotel-provided pack-n-play?
Priceless.
1. NEVER step bare foot on hotel room carpet no matter how nice you think it looks. (The carpets are only cleaned once a year.)2. NEVER use a hotel comforter. (My husband likes to play this game where he traps me inside the comforter which results in me having a panic attack. Fun!)3. ALWAYS wipe down the toilet seat before sitting. (You can't be 100% sure that they've been thoroughly disinfected. Apparently the Regulator had friends who worked housekeeping in high school and she's never looked at hotel rooms the same since.)
For the record, I follow these rules religiously. I have even added a couple of my own.
1. ALWAYS check for bedbugs. (You don't even want to know.)2. ALWAYS avoid touching shower curtain with anything more than your nails. (I almost cried once when the entire thing got stuck to my body.)3. ALWAYS avoid letting your bare skin touch anything within the hotel room. Particularly upholstery. (It can't be disinfected.)
I guess I sound like a germaphobe. I guess I am a germaphobe. Damn you Dateline and your black light, damn you. Anyways, during my most recent travel fail, I learned that these rules do not apply to 20 month olds. Let me back up…
We rang in the New Year with family in Charleston. It was fun (aside from the fact that Lydia woke up no later than 5:00 AM. Every. Single. Day.) The morning we were scheduled to leave, Lydia woke up barking. BARKING. I never believed that a cough could actually sound like a bark, but I stand corrected. Watch out fellow flyers, we've got a barker on our hands. Good. Times.
We made it as far as Atlanta and were trying to console our little barker when the delay to Cleveland was posted. First an hour, then two, then three…then CANCELLED. Throughout the four hours we were in the airport, Lydia managed to touch a piece of chewed gum stuck on a chair, pick up a furry-looking French fry and bark in the face of at least five people. I have rules for the airport too, but I was forced to abandon them after I watched Lydia pick up and promptly consume an M&M she found in between the cushions of two seats.
Lucky for us, the airline put us up in an airport mhotel. I threw the 'm' in because "hotel" is a loose term. I didn't even need a black light to know that the comforters on the bed hadn't been cleaned since the early 90's. And, I know, I know, it could have been worse. We could have been stuck sleeping in the airport. Now that would have been an epic blog post.
Anyways, within minutes of unlocking the mhotel door, Lydia had cuddled up on the bedspread, wedged herself between the wall and the bed making contact with bedspread and carpet simultaneously, put the remote control in her mouth and touched the toilet seat. My head almost exploded. Because our luggage was on its way to Cleveland (how that works, I'm not sure), I used a bar of soap to wash my hair and scrub down Lydia, attempted to "comb" my hair with my fingers and threw the barker in an unsanitized mhotel-provided pack-n-play.
Silver lining? She was asleep within seconds. Bark + one hour flight + four hours in airport + touching as many pieces of germ-infested mhotel furniture as possible = one tired baby.
Flight from Charleston to Cleveland: $300Tetanus shot to clear baby of any germs ingested via the dirty M&M: $145Mhotel Room provided by the craptastic airline that stranded you in the first place: $0Child sound asleep in potentially swine-flu-infested-mhotel-provided pack-n-play?
Priceless.
December 30, 2010
The Best LiLa: Psychiatric Evaluation Gaga Style
I enjoy Lady Gaga's music, have even been known to sing along to a few songs (okay, okay and maybe have a dance party or two in my living room), but I think she's batshit crazy. I get that the insane-looking outfits (she makes Bjork look like an amateur) are her "thing" and probably make her more popular because they force people to talk about her and remember her (exactly what I'm doing here), but just looking at her annoys me.
Anyways, I've decided to put the pics to the Rorscharch test. Move over ink blots.
Dr. R: Tell me, what do you see after looking at this picture?LiLa: Nurse of the high seas. She is mocking all land animals with the chicken claw bracelet.
Dr. R: Good, good, and this one?
LiLa: Room Raiders--that terrible show on MTV circa 5 years ago. It looks like she's going to use a gloved finger to see how dirty my ceiling fan is.
Dr. R: Ah yes, that is very telling indeed. How about Lady Gaga at the Grammy's?
LiLa: Bedazzled hooves. That is all.
Dr. R: (Writing vigorously on his notepad): Fascinating, fascinating. How about here?
LiLa: The Devil Wears Nada, the soft porn version of The Devil Wears Prada.
Dr. R: Your free association is magnificent, not to mention your taste in porn. Tell me, what are you thinking now?
LiLa: Wedgewood. Mr. Gaga and Wedgewood had a baby. A high-waisted Wedgewood-inspired spandex baby.
Dr. R: And, our last picture. What comes to mind, ladies?
LiLa: Good God, her breasts! They've stolen her breasts. Sparkles! Sunglasses! Robert Pattinson.
Dr. R: This is troubling. Very troubling indeed. Further evaluation is mandatory. Please see my receptionist up front to schedule a follow-up ASAP.
Now it's your turn! Head to the comments to use free association to share the first thoughts that came to your mind after being eye-raped by Lady Gaga's particular brand of crazy. Dr. R. will be checking in periodically with evaluations.
Anyways, I've decided to put the pics to the Rorscharch test. Move over ink blots.
Dr. R: Tell me, what do you see after looking at this picture?LiLa: Nurse of the high seas. She is mocking all land animals with the chicken claw bracelet.
Dr. R: Good, good, and this one?LiLa: Room Raiders--that terrible show on MTV circa 5 years ago. It looks like she's going to use a gloved finger to see how dirty my ceiling fan is.
Dr. R: Ah yes, that is very telling indeed. How about Lady Gaga at the Grammy's?LiLa: Bedazzled hooves. That is all.
Dr. R: (Writing vigorously on his notepad): Fascinating, fascinating. How about here?LiLa: The Devil Wears Nada, the soft porn version of The Devil Wears Prada.
Dr. R: Your free association is magnificent, not to mention your taste in porn. Tell me, what are you thinking now?LiLa: Wedgewood. Mr. Gaga and Wedgewood had a baby. A high-waisted Wedgewood-inspired spandex baby.
Dr. R: And, our last picture. What comes to mind, ladies?LiLa: Good God, her breasts! They've stolen her breasts. Sparkles! Sunglasses! Robert Pattinson.
Dr. R: This is troubling. Very troubling indeed. Further evaluation is mandatory. Please see my receptionist up front to schedule a follow-up ASAP.
Now it's your turn! Head to the comments to use free association to share the first thoughts that came to your mind after being eye-raped by Lady Gaga's particular brand of crazy. Dr. R. will be checking in periodically with evaluations.
December 29, 2010
The Best of LiLa: From Birkins to Burqas, SATC2 Sucked
Last week as I was sitting in the doctor's office waiting to be called, a woman and her husband sat directly across from me. Normally, I wouldn't have even looked up from my BlackBerry, but this woman was wearing a burqa.
I noticed.
I tried not to stare, but there's something fascinating and a little eerie about seeing only a woman's eyes. And it's not something you run into often in Cleveland, Ohio. I found myself sneaking little peeks at her, wondering what she was wearing beneath her black robes, wondering if her whole face was as gorgeous as her eyes, wondering if she was thin or heavy or maybe even hiding a baby bump.
The wait was long and the waiting room was restless. We made eye contact and shared a quick eye roll about another patient yammering on her cell phone. I smiled. It was nice to make a connection. Soon after, we both disappeared into exam rooms and I didn't think of her again.
Until Friday night when we decided to have a girls' night out to see Sex And the City 2. As you guys know we were excited to go see a fun, silly movie. And it was fun.
We had a great dinner beforehand and the movie started off ridiculous, but entertaining. Let's just say you don't walk into Sex And the City and expect an oscar worthy film. And I'm not a movie snob. I can sit through (and enjoy) just about any movie including Bride Wars. What can I say? It's a gift.
We had some laughs at the girls' expense throughout the film. The dialogue was forced, the outfits were ridiculous and their lives were completely unrealistic, but it was still fun. And then they went to Abu Dhabi and that's where things started to get uncomfortable.
The scene where the ladies observe a woman wearing a burqa at a restaurant and wait with bated breath for her to eat a french fry kind of worked. Their curiosity reminded me of myself in that waiting room. How would she eat the french fries? Was there a mouth hole in the burqa? The woman delicately lifted the burqa and put a single french fry in her mouth and Carrie quipped about her dedication to fried food. It was interesting to watch American characters deal with a tradition so outside our social norms. Especially characters who were created to embody sexual freedom and empowerment for women. I'll never forget that scene.
But things went downhill from there. The women took Abu Dhabi by storm, completely ignoring and at times, ridiculing, the culture of the country where they were guests. Samantha's racy encounter with a man at dinner would have been offensive just about anywhere, but in a Muslim country it was grounds for arrest. By the time we reached the climax of the movie (no pun intended) Samantha had almost been stoned to death in an outdoor market and the women were all running around in burqas like they were middle eastern clown costumes.
The tone was all wrong. Characters that I'd grown to love after six television seasons were ridiculing Muslim women and their beliefs. And no matter how repressive we find the burqa in America, it made me angry to watch American characters go to a foreign country and completely disrespect their culture.
I think a commenter at IFC.com said it better than I'll ever be able to:
"[SATC 2] is an accidental candid snapshot of the sick, dying heart of America, a film so pleased with its vacuous, trashy, art-free extravagance that its poster should be taped to the dingy walls of terrorist sleeper agents worldwide. More depressing and alarming than the movies themselves is the notion that a certain culture, a certain mindset, birthed it, without a pang of remorse or even apparent self-awareness, much less self-criticism. Ladies and gentlemen, this is why they hate us."
On my way home from the movie I couldn't stop thinking about the woman I'd seen in the doctor's office earlier in the week. Somehow the movie made me feel like I'd just paid $10 for the cinematic equivalent of spitting in her face.
So tell us, those of you who have seen the movie, are we taking it too seriously?
I noticed.
I tried not to stare, but there's something fascinating and a little eerie about seeing only a woman's eyes. And it's not something you run into often in Cleveland, Ohio. I found myself sneaking little peeks at her, wondering what she was wearing beneath her black robes, wondering if her whole face was as gorgeous as her eyes, wondering if she was thin or heavy or maybe even hiding a baby bump.
The wait was long and the waiting room was restless. We made eye contact and shared a quick eye roll about another patient yammering on her cell phone. I smiled. It was nice to make a connection. Soon after, we both disappeared into exam rooms and I didn't think of her again.
Until Friday night when we decided to have a girls' night out to see Sex And the City 2. As you guys know we were excited to go see a fun, silly movie. And it was fun.
We had a great dinner beforehand and the movie started off ridiculous, but entertaining. Let's just say you don't walk into Sex And the City and expect an oscar worthy film. And I'm not a movie snob. I can sit through (and enjoy) just about any movie including Bride Wars. What can I say? It's a gift.
We had some laughs at the girls' expense throughout the film. The dialogue was forced, the outfits were ridiculous and their lives were completely unrealistic, but it was still fun. And then they went to Abu Dhabi and that's where things started to get uncomfortable.
The scene where the ladies observe a woman wearing a burqa at a restaurant and wait with bated breath for her to eat a french fry kind of worked. Their curiosity reminded me of myself in that waiting room. How would she eat the french fries? Was there a mouth hole in the burqa? The woman delicately lifted the burqa and put a single french fry in her mouth and Carrie quipped about her dedication to fried food. It was interesting to watch American characters deal with a tradition so outside our social norms. Especially characters who were created to embody sexual freedom and empowerment for women. I'll never forget that scene.
But things went downhill from there. The women took Abu Dhabi by storm, completely ignoring and at times, ridiculing, the culture of the country where they were guests. Samantha's racy encounter with a man at dinner would have been offensive just about anywhere, but in a Muslim country it was grounds for arrest. By the time we reached the climax of the movie (no pun intended) Samantha had almost been stoned to death in an outdoor market and the women were all running around in burqas like they were middle eastern clown costumes.
The tone was all wrong. Characters that I'd grown to love after six television seasons were ridiculing Muslim women and their beliefs. And no matter how repressive we find the burqa in America, it made me angry to watch American characters go to a foreign country and completely disrespect their culture.
I think a commenter at IFC.com said it better than I'll ever be able to:
"[SATC 2] is an accidental candid snapshot of the sick, dying heart of America, a film so pleased with its vacuous, trashy, art-free extravagance that its poster should be taped to the dingy walls of terrorist sleeper agents worldwide. More depressing and alarming than the movies themselves is the notion that a certain culture, a certain mindset, birthed it, without a pang of remorse or even apparent self-awareness, much less self-criticism. Ladies and gentlemen, this is why they hate us."
On my way home from the movie I couldn't stop thinking about the woman I'd seen in the doctor's office earlier in the week. Somehow the movie made me feel like I'd just paid $10 for the cinematic equivalent of spitting in her face.
So tell us, those of you who have seen the movie, are we taking it too seriously?
December 28, 2010
The Best of LiLa: Twilight the Movie
Well, last night was the big night. That's right. We watched the movie Twilight for the first time. We've read all the books, but after hearing terrible reviews of the movie itself we knew this was a feature film we had to watch in the privacy of our own home. I mean, what's the point of watching a bad movie if you can't mainline Diet Coke and Twizzlers with the option to replay scenes like Edward running up the mountain with Bella on his back over and over and over again. (We seriously almost peed our pants.)
As you can imagine we have a lot of commentary on the movie itself. We could literally go on for days. But in the interest of time we'll wrap this up with two things:
First off, the movie is AWESOMELY bad. Seriously. It's terrible in the best way possible. (We were officially hooked a mere 11 minutes 24 seconds in.)
And secondly....
As you can imagine we have a lot of commentary on the movie itself. We could literally go on for days. But in the interest of time we'll wrap this up with two things:
First off, the movie is AWESOMELY bad. Seriously. It's terrible in the best way possible. (We were officially hooked a mere 11 minutes 24 seconds in.)
And secondly....
December 27, 2010
The Best of LiLa: Boobs
That's right. This blog post is about boobs. If you find that word disturbing on any level, I think it's best you stop reading right now before we seriously offend you.
OK, so now that it's just us pervs, let's get started, shall we?
Yesterday I got a fantastic e-mail from our friend Loretta posing a very simple question: What are 16-year-old boys calling breasts these days?
Well, unfortunately (actually I think maybe it's fortunately) I've never had the opportunity to talk to any actual 16-year-old boys about the female anatomy on a day-to-day basis. However, I watch a LOT of television shows that feature 16-year-old boys, mainly because I'm suffering from an extremely advanced case of arrested development.
So, let's break this down:
Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl (suave, obnoxious, Upper East Sider) would DEFINITELY say breasts. As in "Her breasts are fantastic."
Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights (love of my life, truck driving, football playing, rough around the edges, Texan) would say jugs. As in "Check out the jugs on that stripper."
Finn from Glee (geeky, singing, quasi-dumb jock) is definitely a boob guy. As in "Holy crap, I hope I might get to touch Rachel's boobs."
Puck from Glee (hot, cougar hunting, singing, jock) is probably a random boob euphemism guy. As in "Damn, Rachel's got some nice fun bags."
The moral of the story is that you can tell your reader a lot about your characters based on how they talk about female anatomy and other less controversial topics. So remember, whether they're discussing jugs, breasts or (my personal favorite) fun bags, it's not just about the boobs. When it comes to your characters, you've got to choose your words wisely.
OK, so now that it's just us pervs, let's get started, shall we?
Yesterday I got a fantastic e-mail from our friend Loretta posing a very simple question: What are 16-year-old boys calling breasts these days?
Well, unfortunately (actually I think maybe it's fortunately) I've never had the opportunity to talk to any actual 16-year-old boys about the female anatomy on a day-to-day basis. However, I watch a LOT of television shows that feature 16-year-old boys, mainly because I'm suffering from an extremely advanced case of arrested development.
So, let's break this down:
Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl (suave, obnoxious, Upper East Sider) would DEFINITELY say breasts. As in "Her breasts are fantastic."
Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights (love of my life, truck driving, football playing, rough around the edges, Texan) would say jugs. As in "Check out the jugs on that stripper."
Finn from Glee (geeky, singing, quasi-dumb jock) is definitely a boob guy. As in "Holy crap, I hope I might get to touch Rachel's boobs."
Puck from Glee (hot, cougar hunting, singing, jock) is probably a random boob euphemism guy. As in "Damn, Rachel's got some nice fun bags."The moral of the story is that you can tell your reader a lot about your characters based on how they talk about female anatomy and other less controversial topics. So remember, whether they're discussing jugs, breasts or (my personal favorite) fun bags, it's not just about the boobs. When it comes to your characters, you've got to choose your words wisely.
December 24, 2010
It's the most wonderful time of the year...
So those of you who have followed this blog for a while may be familiar with our annual Christmas Present Watch Tradition. You see, my husband has a REALLY bad track record when it comes to gift giving. And every year without fail he sticks a few Nordstrom boxes underneath the Christmas Tree and I start getting the shakes.
One year I found bright pink velour sweatpants with "Sexy" bedazzled on the butt. Another year it was a pair of skinny jeans three sizes too small and a see-through shirt made entirely of silver thread. Three boxes are sitting innocently under the tree this year and I'm rocking 15 extra pounds of baby weight. Christmas morning is going to be a hot mess. I can't wait.
Sadly, this will be our last post of 2010. Next week we'll be running "The Best of LiLa" all week, but we'll be back with new shenanigans on January 3, 2011. Thank you all so much for hanging out with us all year and making our day with your random comments and your endless support. Can't wait to see what 2011 brings.
Buckle. Up.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
XOXO,L&L
One year I found bright pink velour sweatpants with "Sexy" bedazzled on the butt. Another year it was a pair of skinny jeans three sizes too small and a see-through shirt made entirely of silver thread. Three boxes are sitting innocently under the tree this year and I'm rocking 15 extra pounds of baby weight. Christmas morning is going to be a hot mess. I can't wait.
Sadly, this will be our last post of 2010. Next week we'll be running "The Best of LiLa" all week, but we'll be back with new shenanigans on January 3, 2011. Thank you all so much for hanging out with us all year and making our day with your random comments and your endless support. Can't wait to see what 2011 brings.
Buckle. Up.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
XOXO,L&L
December 23, 2010
Because it's even funnier the second time around...
This time last year, I was having a REALLY craptastic day. Enjoy.
Lisa Roecker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Let me preface this by saying there were a lot of events leading up to this day. First off, my friend and I took our sons to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox the night before. In retrospect it probably would have been a good idea to do some research around the plot and to consider going to an earlier showing.
Here's a transcript from my hilarious friend recapping the evening for you. Keep in mind that her husband was already semi-annoyed that she chose to keep Jack's bestie out this late "on a school night."
Dad: How was the movie?Jack's bestie: Good.Dad: What movie was it?Jack's bestie: Don't know.Dad: Well, what was the movie about?Jack's bestie: Don't know. Ask Mom.Dad: You don't remember anything about the movie? What was one thing you remember about the movie?
*dramatic pause*
Jack's bestie: There was this really good part where the farmers got their shooters and started shooting at a tree and the foxes. There were lots of guns and it was really scary and they were really bad men.
*dramatic pause*
Dad: Great.
Fast forward to the next morning.
8:00 AM - Jack drags himself out of bed. Gets very excited to learn that he can wear his pajamas to school for the big Snow Day Party. He refuses to go to the bathroom, but I decide to call it even since I don't have to force him out of his pajamas and into his school clothes.
8:51 AM - Drop kids off at school and find out that several parents sent in their money for the class gift a day late which leaves me about two hours to buy additional gifts for the teachers. Being the room mom really is a bitch.
9:05 AM - Arrive at mall to purchase gifts for teachers only to find out the mall doesn't open until 10 AM.
9:06 AM - Place emergency call to uber talented sister to see if she can whip up some personalized stationary for the teachers.
Stacey: (sounding hoarse and groggy) Hello?Lisa: Hey. How long does it take you to make stationary?Stacey: (sounding suspicious) Why?Lisa: Just wondering...Stacey: I can make it quickly. When do you need it?Lisa: In an hour.Stacey: *coughs*Lisa: Did I wake you up?Stacey: I was just taking a little nap.Lisa: Crap.
9:30 AM: Arrive back home to place PayPal order for the stationary to make sure Stacey actually accepts payment. She's notoriously bad at cashing my checks.
9:39 AM: Check Jack's class list to see who paid for the gifts and who didn't. Realize that I gave Stacey an incorrect spelling for one of the teacher's names. Swear profusely and call Stacey immediately.
Lisa: Have you already printed Mrs. D's cards?Stacey: Yeah....Lisa: $%^&Stacey: What?Lisa: I spelled her $%&^*(& name wrong.Stacey: %$#&Lisa: I know. Just forget it.Stacey: No way, I'll print new ones.Lisa: I love you.
9:55 AM - Leave my house, double check the door is locked and head to my car. Reach into my pocket for my keys only to find they're not there. %$#&. Check under the door mat for spare key, not there. %$#@.
9:56 AM - Cry a little.
9:57 AM - Grab the Little Tykes slide from the garage and drag it around the perimeter of my house trying to break in through one of our windows only to find they're all locked.
10:05 AM - Notice that I can't feel my hands anymore.
10:06 AM - Find Jack's Lightning McQueen gloves in the trunk and stuff my hands into them.
10:07 AM - Begin trying all the windows again. One last try before I call Stacey and beg her to drive me to Jack's school. The grip on the McQueen gloves gives me just enough leverage to pop open one of my family room windows.
10:08 AM - Marvel at how easy it is to break into my house.
10:09 AM - Try to squeeze past Christmas tree in my huge down coat.
10:10 AM - Fail. The entire Christmas tree comes crashing down.
10:11 AM - Cry a little.
10:20 AM - Cards have been picked up and I'm off to Jack's school.
Editorial note: Loyal readers will remember that there is a bat shit crazy woman in Jack's preschool class who insisted that all of the food at the school party be made of fruit and air. Just a quick reminder as she proved to be yet another leading factor in Lisa's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Day.
10:46 AM - Arrive in Jack's classroom and witness bat shit crazy mom flipping out at one of the other parents for bringing cupcakes.
10:47 AM - Hear bat shit crazy mom telling another parent about her son's clown phobia. She just wanted to verify that no one was planning on hiring a clown for the end of the school party in JUNE. JUNE!
10:48 AM - Bite my tongue so hard that I taste blood.
10:49 AM - Help the children make Marshmallow Snowmen.
10:50 AM - Stress eat a Twizzler.
10:55 AM - Try to assist the kids in getting their snowmen into little personalized bags to take home. As I'm helping Jack he bites the head off his snowman and laughs at me.
10:56 AM - Practice yoga breathing.
10:57 AM - Stress eat another Twizzler.
11:09 AM - Treats have been distributed and Jack eats them all within seconds and wants more. I quietly tell him that he's had enough and he screams "This is the worst party ever!" and throws his juice box across the room.
11:10 AM - Do the walk of shame across the room to pick up the juice box and practice my yoga breathing.
11:11 AM - Stress eat another Twizzler.
11:12 AM - Teacher asks me if I'll be taking Jack home after the party and I smile brightly and say "Oh no, he has extended day today. Remember?"
11:13 AM - Teacher cries a little.
11:30 AM - Call my husband to inform him that I'll be enrolling his son in military school and he reminds me that it was my decision to keep him out until 9:30 PM the night before.
11:31 AM - Cry a little.
11:32 AM - Stress eat all of the remaining Twizzlers.
11:34 AM - Call the aforementioned hilarious friend to relay the events of the party, specifically the new information about the clown phobia. Hilarious friend claims she's going to start doing carpool dressed as a clown.
11:35 AM - Come dangerously close to peeing my pants.
11:47 AM - Back home. Assess damage to our Christmas tree.
11:48 AM - Cry a little.
11:49 AM - Remind myself that at least I'll get a decent blog post out of this.
Lisa Roecker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Let me preface this by saying there were a lot of events leading up to this day. First off, my friend and I took our sons to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox the night before. In retrospect it probably would have been a good idea to do some research around the plot and to consider going to an earlier showing.
Here's a transcript from my hilarious friend recapping the evening for you. Keep in mind that her husband was already semi-annoyed that she chose to keep Jack's bestie out this late "on a school night."
Dad: How was the movie?Jack's bestie: Good.Dad: What movie was it?Jack's bestie: Don't know.Dad: Well, what was the movie about?Jack's bestie: Don't know. Ask Mom.Dad: You don't remember anything about the movie? What was one thing you remember about the movie?
*dramatic pause*
Jack's bestie: There was this really good part where the farmers got their shooters and started shooting at a tree and the foxes. There were lots of guns and it was really scary and they were really bad men.
*dramatic pause*
Dad: Great.
Fast forward to the next morning.
8:00 AM - Jack drags himself out of bed. Gets very excited to learn that he can wear his pajamas to school for the big Snow Day Party. He refuses to go to the bathroom, but I decide to call it even since I don't have to force him out of his pajamas and into his school clothes.
8:51 AM - Drop kids off at school and find out that several parents sent in their money for the class gift a day late which leaves me about two hours to buy additional gifts for the teachers. Being the room mom really is a bitch.
9:05 AM - Arrive at mall to purchase gifts for teachers only to find out the mall doesn't open until 10 AM.
9:06 AM - Place emergency call to uber talented sister to see if she can whip up some personalized stationary for the teachers.
Stacey: (sounding hoarse and groggy) Hello?Lisa: Hey. How long does it take you to make stationary?Stacey: (sounding suspicious) Why?Lisa: Just wondering...Stacey: I can make it quickly. When do you need it?Lisa: In an hour.Stacey: *coughs*Lisa: Did I wake you up?Stacey: I was just taking a little nap.Lisa: Crap.
9:30 AM: Arrive back home to place PayPal order for the stationary to make sure Stacey actually accepts payment. She's notoriously bad at cashing my checks.
9:39 AM: Check Jack's class list to see who paid for the gifts and who didn't. Realize that I gave Stacey an incorrect spelling for one of the teacher's names. Swear profusely and call Stacey immediately.
Lisa: Have you already printed Mrs. D's cards?Stacey: Yeah....Lisa: $%^&Stacey: What?Lisa: I spelled her $%&^*(& name wrong.Stacey: %$#&Lisa: I know. Just forget it.Stacey: No way, I'll print new ones.Lisa: I love you.
9:55 AM - Leave my house, double check the door is locked and head to my car. Reach into my pocket for my keys only to find they're not there. %$#&. Check under the door mat for spare key, not there. %$#@.
9:56 AM - Cry a little.
9:57 AM - Grab the Little Tykes slide from the garage and drag it around the perimeter of my house trying to break in through one of our windows only to find they're all locked.
10:05 AM - Notice that I can't feel my hands anymore.
10:06 AM - Find Jack's Lightning McQueen gloves in the trunk and stuff my hands into them.
10:07 AM - Begin trying all the windows again. One last try before I call Stacey and beg her to drive me to Jack's school. The grip on the McQueen gloves gives me just enough leverage to pop open one of my family room windows.
10:08 AM - Marvel at how easy it is to break into my house.
10:09 AM - Try to squeeze past Christmas tree in my huge down coat.
10:10 AM - Fail. The entire Christmas tree comes crashing down.
10:11 AM - Cry a little.
10:20 AM - Cards have been picked up and I'm off to Jack's school.
Editorial note: Loyal readers will remember that there is a bat shit crazy woman in Jack's preschool class who insisted that all of the food at the school party be made of fruit and air. Just a quick reminder as she proved to be yet another leading factor in Lisa's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, Day.
10:46 AM - Arrive in Jack's classroom and witness bat shit crazy mom flipping out at one of the other parents for bringing cupcakes.
10:47 AM - Hear bat shit crazy mom telling another parent about her son's clown phobia. She just wanted to verify that no one was planning on hiring a clown for the end of the school party in JUNE. JUNE!
10:48 AM - Bite my tongue so hard that I taste blood.
10:49 AM - Help the children make Marshmallow Snowmen.
10:50 AM - Stress eat a Twizzler.
10:55 AM - Try to assist the kids in getting their snowmen into little personalized bags to take home. As I'm helping Jack he bites the head off his snowman and laughs at me.
10:56 AM - Practice yoga breathing.
10:57 AM - Stress eat another Twizzler.
11:09 AM - Treats have been distributed and Jack eats them all within seconds and wants more. I quietly tell him that he's had enough and he screams "This is the worst party ever!" and throws his juice box across the room.
11:10 AM - Do the walk of shame across the room to pick up the juice box and practice my yoga breathing.
11:11 AM - Stress eat another Twizzler.
11:12 AM - Teacher asks me if I'll be taking Jack home after the party and I smile brightly and say "Oh no, he has extended day today. Remember?"
11:13 AM - Teacher cries a little.
11:30 AM - Call my husband to inform him that I'll be enrolling his son in military school and he reminds me that it was my decision to keep him out until 9:30 PM the night before.
11:31 AM - Cry a little.
11:32 AM - Stress eat all of the remaining Twizzlers.
11:34 AM - Call the aforementioned hilarious friend to relay the events of the party, specifically the new information about the clown phobia. Hilarious friend claims she's going to start doing carpool dressed as a clown.
11:35 AM - Come dangerously close to peeing my pants.
11:47 AM - Back home. Assess damage to our Christmas tree.
11:48 AM - Cry a little.
11:49 AM - Remind myself that at least I'll get a decent blog post out of this.
December 22, 2010
WTF Wednesday: In Which The Roeckers Drop the Ball
We totally dropped the ball yesterday. Here's how it went down:
Lisa calls Laura:
Lisa: Hey, Laura. What are you doing?Laura: At the gym. Lisa: Really? You don't sound out of breath.Laura: Oh, I'm just on the bike. Pedaling slowly and reading.Lisa: Right. I'm going to Mom's.Laura: Ooh, really?Lisa: Yup.Laura: Nice. I'm in.
Laura calls Lisa:Laura: I'm at mom's. Where are you? Lisa: Totally on my way.Laura: Nice. I'll pour the wine.
The entire day was spent wrangling kids, eating chocolate and drinking wine. Little did we know that epic things were happening on Twitter. Epic things like Scott Tracey's birthday AND cover reveal for WITCH EYES. The Regulator was absolutely horrified that we didn't tweet about it all day so we're issuing a formal apology.
Scott Tracey, we suck. Thankfully The Regulator stalks you on twitter and yelled at her lazy daughters for not sitting on their computers all day while hanging out at her house.
Please help us congratulate Scott on his awesome cover and wish him a belated birthday so he'll forgive us.
Lisa calls Laura:
Lisa: Hey, Laura. What are you doing?Laura: At the gym. Lisa: Really? You don't sound out of breath.Laura: Oh, I'm just on the bike. Pedaling slowly and reading.Lisa: Right. I'm going to Mom's.Laura: Ooh, really?Lisa: Yup.Laura: Nice. I'm in.
Laura calls Lisa:Laura: I'm at mom's. Where are you? Lisa: Totally on my way.Laura: Nice. I'll pour the wine.
The entire day was spent wrangling kids, eating chocolate and drinking wine. Little did we know that epic things were happening on Twitter. Epic things like Scott Tracey's birthday AND cover reveal for WITCH EYES. The Regulator was absolutely horrified that we didn't tweet about it all day so we're issuing a formal apology.
Scott Tracey, we suck. Thankfully The Regulator stalks you on twitter and yelled at her lazy daughters for not sitting on their computers all day while hanging out at her house.
Please help us congratulate Scott on his awesome cover and wish him a belated birthday so he'll forgive us.
December 21, 2010
Tell the Truth Tuesday
1. I have yet to wrap a single Christmas present.
2. I just realized that I forgot to change the blog back to LISA and Laura Write. It crossed my mind to leave it as Laura and Lisa Writes, actually, who am I kidding? It's Tell the Truth Tuesday. That thought NEVER crossed my mind.
3. We're sending our publicist an engraved beer stein because we're pretty sure dealing with us on a regular basis has driven him to drink.
4. Book bloggers are my rockstars.
5. I'm completely riveted by Camille Grammar on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I'm 99% sure she's the antichrist and the scenes with her and Kelsey are a hot, awkward mess. LOVE.
6. I keep an ARC in my purse and I've been known to whip it out at extremely inappropriate times. Apparently, my husband's administrative assistant doesn't really care that my book actually looks like a book. In case you're wondering, this officially classifies me as socially inept.
7. I spend 75 minutes getting everyone out the door to go to the gym and (if I'm lucky) get 35 minutes to actually work out. Too bad screaming at your kids to get their coats on or else you're going to leave without them and this time you mean it doesn't count as cardio.
8. I am no longer capable of making small talk. I literally find myself dozing off if the conversation gets too boring. This does not bode well for the holidays.
9. There's someone I desperately want to unfollow on Twitter, but I can't unfollow them for fear that they'll get a Qwitter update and see that I've unfollowed them and know the depths of my hatred.
10. Ben is crying upstairs, but I really want a #10. Hmm...ooh, I know! Sometimes I ignore my crying child in order to blog.
OK, time for your truths. Spill your guts in the comments. I'm waiting....
2. I just realized that I forgot to change the blog back to LISA and Laura Write. It crossed my mind to leave it as Laura and Lisa Writes, actually, who am I kidding? It's Tell the Truth Tuesday. That thought NEVER crossed my mind.
3. We're sending our publicist an engraved beer stein because we're pretty sure dealing with us on a regular basis has driven him to drink.
4. Book bloggers are my rockstars.
5. I'm completely riveted by Camille Grammar on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I'm 99% sure she's the antichrist and the scenes with her and Kelsey are a hot, awkward mess. LOVE.
6. I keep an ARC in my purse and I've been known to whip it out at extremely inappropriate times. Apparently, my husband's administrative assistant doesn't really care that my book actually looks like a book. In case you're wondering, this officially classifies me as socially inept.
7. I spend 75 minutes getting everyone out the door to go to the gym and (if I'm lucky) get 35 minutes to actually work out. Too bad screaming at your kids to get their coats on or else you're going to leave without them and this time you mean it doesn't count as cardio.
8. I am no longer capable of making small talk. I literally find myself dozing off if the conversation gets too boring. This does not bode well for the holidays.
9. There's someone I desperately want to unfollow on Twitter, but I can't unfollow them for fear that they'll get a Qwitter update and see that I've unfollowed them and know the depths of my hatred.
10. Ben is crying upstairs, but I really want a #10. Hmm...ooh, I know! Sometimes I ignore my crying child in order to blog.
OK, time for your truths. Spill your guts in the comments. I'm waiting....
