Do I know you? Do you want to look at my room service pictures anyway?

Blogland slowed down for a second, because, to be honest, I got a little freaked out.

When I started a little blog in 2008, all my friends had one. It was how I communicated with friends and family prior to Instagram.

My readership has increased since then, especially since I’ve been trying to promote it to find writing opportunities. I can’t believe it! Frankly, I’m stunned that anyone stops by here, but it’s awesome!

It’s just…who are you?

Are you someone who cares to know that my post 9:00 PM time management is terrible, and I complain about never getting laundry done as I pick my face for an hour?

Are you someone who finds it interesting that my husband legitimately accused me of forgetting a burrito in our bedroom a few weeks ago? (It DID smell like Mexican food in our room for a couple days, and it IS a valid hypothesis, but I did not. I haven’t eaten a burrito in our room…for years. It left me offended and hungry.)

Are you the type I can confide in that I feel completely overwhelmed, and recently bit off more than I can chew? Are you the kind friend that will put an arm around me and tell me that’s just life? And to stop wasting time picking my face?

Are you a person that doesn’t mind if I post no-makeup, not professional pictures occasionally?

As a reader, I enjoy elements of raw emotion in writing. That will inevitably bleed onto Fluent in Blonde (unless I see a therapist for my emotions, or something), and I spent a week debating my level of not-child-related caution in what I share. By no means am I controversial, but I have a personality, you know? What if I offend someone? What if I unknowingly make myself way too vulnerable?

…buuuuut coming from a girl who can pound an entire pack of Springtime Oreos, I probably weigh too much to walk on eggshells.

I’ve also concluded that sharing my thoughts with you is less detrimental to me than it is to you. My overexposed emotions is probably more like…a flasher. A streaker. Okay, maybe something more mild, like mooning. As a verbal (or more traditional) mooner,I can’t feel vulnerable if I’m intentionally expoooosing myself to you.

Obviously, my sweet ninos are a different story, but writing with emotion? I think I’m okay with you reading it, you. Whoever you are. (I’m glad you’re here.)

Here’s what I’ve been doing while ignoring you:

It was brought to my attention by an online Zappos customer service rep that April 20th is National Cheese Fry Day. There was no questioning eating animal fries, animal fries know no shame. That’s why I unapologetically ate them in a swimsuit. It was also the first time everrrr that my little angel babies were being little angel babies in the kids’ pool. I sat on the side eating 3000 calories, and they just played! Gloooooooooooo-ria.

I enjoyed a one night vacation with my friend, Taylor. I never enjoy leaving any of my boys, but laying on a beach all day? Sleeping in until 10? Room service? Not currently physically attached to a baby? Well, okay. I’ll go for one day.


No vegan, gluten, dairy,or sugar preferences here.


Alwaaaays happy to be back home and wake up to my little loves snuggling in my bed.

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Nursery Rhyme Meanings That Keep You Guessing

 I’ve heard convincing arguments that Mother Goose is the key to Ivy Leagues. I’m all for brain stimulation and early developmental progress, but I don’t remember many nursery rhymes. I’ve had to go off of memory, and it has proven to be a little fuzzy.

By “a little fuzzy,” I mean that I can’t remember even half the words. “Ring around the Rosies” is the only thing that’s clear in my mind. Sadly, that’s only due to years of elementary school repetition, because of the fascinating rumors of its morbid meaning that were shared in the shadows of the tether ball poles.

I looked up a couple nursery rhymes to keep in my back pocket.

Have you read them recently? There are some real creepers in there. How many young children go to sleep smiling serenely after hearing about some egg-dude Humpty that fatally fell off a wall, anyway?

Why do none of these have conclusions? Are there sequels?

What do these even mean, anyway?!

Here are a handful of my loose interpretations.

“Little Miss Muffet
Sat on her tuffet
Eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider and sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.”
Translation: Little Miss Muffet sat on her stool, or possibly Kim K booty (haven’t checked “tuffet” on Urban Dictionary), and ate 2% cottage cheese. She regretted not keeping the pest control guy’s magnet on the fridge.

“Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot, nine days old.”
Translation: Someone spilled frozen peas in the steel cut oatmeal. Before finally throwing it out, Mom kept it for nine days, because there are starving children in Africa.

“It’s raining, it’s pouring;
The old man is snoring.
Bumped his head
And he went to bed
And he couldn’t get up in the morning.”’
Translation: He got the Advil mixed up with Ambien. Or else…

“The bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, to see what he could see. To see what he could see, to see what he could see. The bear went over the mountain to see what he could see.”
Translation: This was a “she” bear, probably a mom, just trying to get out of the house. Sometimes I do that. I go to Target, to buy what I can buy, to buy what I can buy.

“Old Mother Hubbard, went to her cupboard, to fetch her poor dog a bone. When she was there, the cupboard was bare, and so the poor dog had none.”
Translation: This is an ASPCA commercial. Cue Sarah McLachlan.

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.
She gave them some broth,
Without any bread,
Whipped them all soundly, and sent them to bed.”
Translation: This lady came home from Saks with new Louboutins, and her husband said, “You better be living in those shoes, because that was as much as a mortgage payment!” She was like, “Fine, I will.” The new leather smell made her go crazy, and I really don’t know what happened after that. I’m sure the husband has full custody, and a pending restraining order.

I don’t think I’ll read that one to my little guy.

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Finishing My New Year’s Goals Before Next New Year

I went to college in Hawaii for a second, and I’ve been running on island time ever since.

That’s a cute way of putting a lei around the phrase, “I’m usually a little late. Mahalo!”

After college, punctuality became much more important to me, but my two little sweeties put the brakes on that really quickly. It’s a law of motherhood that just as we are walking out the door, someone will need a new diaper, or a Kleenex, or throws up, or is missing a shoe, or remembers he misplaced a red Popsicle somewhere in the house…

Anyway, for the next year, I’ll get there when I get there, and things will get done when they get done, or I’ll lose my mind.

So, here we are in August, and I’m still working on my New Year’s Goals

Peter Pan is first on my list of original Disney stories to read. Indulge me while I nerd out, okay?

There are two separate books (both by the same author, J M Barrie) that count as the “original” story—one contains the first ever mentioning of the character within an unrelated storyline, and the other is the classic Peter Pan story that elaborates on the characters created in the first book.

I want you to read the first one, “Little White Bird.” I love the humor. It’s dry and a little twisted, but still charming and whimsical. Doesn’t that sound perfectly British, dahhling?

I’m slipping into an accent just writing about it, dahhling.

Goodnight Mooning, minus a few pages that are stuck together with apple juice.
Goodnight Mooning, minus a few pages that are stuck together with apple juice.
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I’ve Just Been Thinking. I Love Thinking, Like Olivia. On The Bachelor, You Know?

Sorry for my absence. I’ve been contemplating my New Year’s Resolutions this whole entire time. Now, February 10, I think I’m committed to at least two of them.

There would have been more, but 1.) apparently, I have to request permission from my HOA to house exotic animals, and 2.) apparently, I have, like, 45 sheets worth of personal flaws I need work on.

It became entirely overwhelming to edit my resolution rough draft, so I scrapped the whole thing. Save some for 2033, everybody.

My two are:

Read a new book a month, a Disney story. The original Peter Pan, or the Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid. I’ve heard the originals are all a little morbid, dark, or disturbing. Isn’t most literature? I’m intrigued.

Slave my way through a weekly activity from my friend Doris’s book. Doris is one of my favorite people, and wrote a “daily devotional” style book with deep, thought provoking ideas for each day of the year. An example? Invite your friends to lunch at Costco to eat hot dogs.

Then, if I have time, I’ll do the normal people things, like, “Be a better person, save more money, be nice, don’t be fat, blah blah blah.” I’m just telling you now: I’m not going to make extra time for mediocre goals like that.

And here is a best  friend from a future post. Talk about a cliff hanger.
And here is a best friend from a future post. Talk about a cliff hanger.

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Mother Goose is Freaking Us Out More Than Mother Monster

I’ve heard convincing arguments that Mother Goose is the key to Ivy Leagues. I’m all for brain stimulation and early developmental progress, but Gus doesn’t last long reading without wanting to eat books. I have been trying to share rhymes with him, but I’ve had to go off of memory. It’s proven to be a little fuzzy.

This is all our books see...but I'm squealing right now.
This is all our books see…but I’m squealing right now.

I’ve been starting to sing little ditties, and I can’t remember even half the words. Ring around the Rosies is the only one that’s clear. Sadly, that’s only due to years of elementary school repetition, because of the fascinating rumors of its morbid meaning that were shared in the shadows of the tether ball poles.

I looked a couple nursery rhymes up to keep in my back pocket. Have you read them recently? Some are CREEEEPY. What do these even mean, anyway?!

“Little Miss Muffet
Sat on her tuffet
Eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider and sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.”
Translation: Little Miss Muffet sat on her (what is a tuffet?! I’m going to submit it to Urban Dictionary as a) Kim K booty, and ate 2% cottage cheese. She regretted not keeping the pest control guy’s magnet on the fridge.

“Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot, nine days old.”
Translation: Someone spilled frozen peas in the steel cut oatmeal. Before finally throwing it out, Mom kept it for nine days, because “there are starving children in Africa.”

“It’s raining, it’s pouring;
The old man is snoring.
Bumped his head
And he went to bed
And he couldn’t get up in the morning.”
Translation: He got the Advil mixed up with Ambien. Or else…

“The bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, to see what he could see. To see what he could see, to see what he could see. The bear went over the mountain to see what he could see.”
Translation: This was a “she” bear, probably a mom, just trying to get out of the house. Sometimes I do that. I go to Target, to buy what I can buy, to buy what I can buy.

“Old Mother Hubbard, went to her cupboard, to fetch her poor dog a bone. When she was there, the cupboard was bare, and so the poor dog had none.”
Translation: This is an ASPCA commercial. Cue Sarah McLachlan.

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.
She gave them some broth,
Without any bread,
Whipped them all soundly, and sent them to bed.”
Translation: This lady came home from Saks with new Louboutins, and her husband said, “You better be living in those shoes, because that was as much as a mortgage payment!” She was like, “Fine, I will.” The new leather smell made her go crazy, and I really don’t know what happened after that. I’m sure the husband has full custody, and a pending restraining order.

I don’t think I’ll read that one to Gus.

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Is Your Name Karen? Do You Know a Karen?

You know those times in life that you reflect and think, “Am I on the right path?” Then you realize that you are not. In fact, you’re no longer on the path. You are off in the bushes somewhere, picking razzleberries. Those aren’t even real, so you must be waaay off that path in a desert oasis, hallucinating.

Sometimes that’s where I am.

I was recently looking for a bike trailer, and a friend suggested Craigslist. I hadn’t been on in years, but maaaan, have I been missing out. Go to Craigslist, look under “personals,” then “missed connections.” They’re not all PG, so I have done the dirty work for you. Read them. It will make you feel so much better about your life. I may be off the path sometimes, but at least I’m still on the same planet.

Here is a nice compilation from around the Craigslist globe that I have collected while shirking my laundry duties.

...or male stripper? The highest of any Vegas compliments.
…or male stripper? The highest of any Vegas compliments.

All Karens, hit him up.
All Karens, hit him up.
Craigslist solves drinking problems.
Craigslist solves drinking problems.
He was a Han Solo in a sea of Chewbacas.
He was a Han Solo in a sea of Chewbacas.

Let’s take a look at the Phoenix area.
photo-52

He saved you from the fall you were unaware of.
He saved you from the fall you were unaware of.
Or is it the hot dogs you can't get off your mind?
Or is it the hot dogs you can’t get off your mind?

Uh oh, Steve Barr.
Uh oh, Steve Barr.

Let’s head to New Mexico. I had high expectations after 15 years of life in that state, and Albuquerque’s “missed connections” didn’t disappoint.

Has that pickup line had much success?
Has that pickup line had much success?
As a former NM resident, let me tell you that this person didn't knock out much of the state's population.
As a former NM resident, let me tell you that this person didn’t knock out much of the state’s population.
I hope your arm has healed from a few years ago.
I hope your arm has healed from a few years ago.

The missed connection was with the mental wellness.
The missed connection was with the mental wellness.

D.C. was a little more professional.
Let's talk like adults.
Like adults, on Craigslist.

Horns?
Horns?

That last sentence is my new chant every time I Google something.
That last sentence is my new chant every time I Google something.

Some people confuse Craigslist with their diary.photo-68
Poetic.
Poetic.

Miami. I love you, Miami.
This girl is cute. I would like to use my blog as a means to further her search.
I guess. I would like to use my blog as a means to further her search.
Question: Are we being honest about your age and body type combo?
Question: Are we being honest about your age and body type combo?
That age plus the glitter...I like it. Bet she was a Vegas transplant.
That age plus the glitter…I like it. Bet she was a Vegas transplant.

Huh...Huhhh. And, my accountant has lots and lots of my numbers. My phone number is one of them.
I mean, my accountant has my number, amongst many other things.

Ohhh Provo.
What does that "ask for my number" face look like? Similar to "post for me on Craigslist" face?
What does that “ask for my number” face look like? Similar to “post for me on Craigslist” face?

International! Canada:
This is a half-glass full guy.
This is a half-glass full guy.

Being a hair stylist, I'm worried she might be bald before you find her.
Being a hair stylist, I’m worried she might be bald before you find her.

Shout out to my Alma Mater:
Judging by the subject line, I have a guess as to where you're from...
Judging by the subject line, I have a guess as to where you’re from…

It’s the little things in life.

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