I had a Tupperware party last night. I know, weird, right? It all just sort of happened, perhaps I was drugged or something, I’m not sure but I know I bought a bunch of stuff and am giddy about it still. It was really fun and there were vodka gimlets and cheesy poofs and salsa. I think it may have been the gimlets, but I am not ruling out the cheesy poofs, but I somehow think I managed to accidentally seriously malign my mother’s reputation.

See, the girl who drugged me talked me into the party is my sister-in-law…ish. She and my brother are married, getting divorced, have a child together. My brother is a big weirdo but that’s another story. Those of you who know him know the story, those of you who don’t, count yourself lucky. Just don’t lend him money, okay?

Anyway, somehow I happened to mention that my mother was on her 3rd marriage and that Jay and I have different dads, and that both dads are freaks in their own special ways and we don’t see much of either one of them. While that certainly speaks ill of the fathers, it also makes my mom seem like some sort of trashy, irresponsible Jerry-Springer-type person, which, if you know her, is the exact opposite of who she really is. She is, if anything, a bit of a goody two shoes, except with wine. She and my dad were high school sweethearts and married the summer she graduated high school. They had me several years later (no shotgun wedding, that) and divorced a few years later. When I was 8, my mother married Brian, had Jay a year later, and divorced a few years after that. All through this, my mother put herself through nursing school and worked 12 hour shifts to keep us in health insurance and birthday presents. Her current husband she dated for 10 years until she finally was sure this one would really work. I think she counts divorce as the one big regret and tragedy of her life. So, to sum up: My mother is a hard working, caring, non-trashy person who is in no way like Elizabeth Taylor or Brittney Spears. Thank you.

Oh man I love yoga jokes! This is a great new site by Mrs. Kennedy. Best line so far: “Inhale up! And your shoulder broke. Well, that’s a bummer.”

…back a long time ago when I was certain that my unborn child was trying to kill me? Well, she’s up to her old tricks again. I haven’t slept past 5:30am for going on a month now. Five thirty is too early. Five thirty hurts at a cellular level. They shouldn’t even have a five thirty. But up she pops and she hits the ground running. It’s all I can do to change her diaper before collapsing on the couch in front of Blue’s Clues.

EXCEPT! for yesterday, when I got to sleep til 10am (!) and then, at naptime, I escaped her grasp completely and got a nice little wax at the local salon, then a leisurely browse of the local TJ Maxx, where I purchase all of my name brand items. No seriously, I can’t possibly pay for the things that I want, so I get them 3 seasons later at TJs and I am just as happy. Yesterday I got a Ralph Lauren button up shirt, a Sak bag and a pair of Jones New York capris. OH! and the world’s cutest easter dress for the (venemous) Muffin. I can’t find a picture of it online, but it’s pink gingham and eye-meltingly adorable. (yes, yes, I know I keep saying I will stop buying her pink. Her closet looks like a bubble gum factory exploded. If I find a similar dress in purple or blue, I swear to you I will buy it.)

oh ho, that’s funny!

From the “I never realized I was that Catholic” files:

1. At my great aunt’s funeral, my mother, brother, and 3 cousins scootched ourselves into the pew of my aunt’s Congregational Church and simultaneously, automatically, reached for the kneelers. Which weren’t there, duh, because Congregationalists just sit on their asses all through the sermon instead of that Catholic aerobics shit I had to do. In fairness, I only really had to do it on Easter and Christmas and whatever random Sunday my mom was feeling blasphemous. We weren’t what you’d call devout, but damn that shit goes deep. I can tell because…

2. … Apocalypse talk freaks me right out, even though I know it’s bullshit. And even if it isn’t, I’ll just be psyched to get all those self righteous jerks the hell out of here.