Pantygate

I posted a picture over the weekend on Flickr of me in a brand, spankin' new pair of Victoria's Secret panties and it has started a pretty interesting discussion amongst a couple of us regarding the potential effects of scantily clad mothers on Flickr on their children.

First of all, while I recognize that a photograph of a woman in lacy panties is going to be deemed "sexy", a sexy pic was not my sole intent with that photograph. I thought it was a well composed shot with all the lines on the underwear, curtain, and door and I loved the lighting on both hips. When I saw the photo was immediately a crotch shot and nothing more to those who viewed it, I decided to not make it my 365 day photo and instead went with the family-oriented shot of the Gavinator, Goose, and I vacuuming. The whole point of doing 365 is to daily try and capture my life- from the mundane to the monumental- and a crotch shot does not fall into that category. I see the photograph differently. It was more than that.... to me, anyway. Anyhoo, I can't control the way other people interpret my photos and I wouldn't want to.

I am a woman. I didn't stop being a woman when I got pregnant or gave birth or breastfed. If anything, all of those things make me MORE of a woman. I see nothing wrong with tastefully done photographs of the female form and (shock, gasp) my chidlren see me in my underwear all the time so what difference does it make if there is a tastefully done picture of it? My kids know that mommy is a girl, breasts are for breastfeeding, and if you're potty-trained, you wear underwear. End of story. As I said over on Flickr, unless photos of me that others may or may not find "sexay" halts the production of Cheerios, I don't think my kids will care... not now... not ever... and I certainly don't believe they will be harmed in some way.

What do you think?

No Mistaking

1977




2007

E-mail from old friend = Day Made

I was cleaning through some old things yesterday while packing to move. I had to laugh at a couple of school pictures you gave to me. On the back on the 9th grade picture you wrote "to my funny, stupid....best friend", in 10th grade you wrote "to my funniest, stupidest...best friend". In a year's time I moved to the top spot. Quite an achievement.

Anyway, it just brought back a lot of fun memories.

Love,

Your funniest & stupidest BFF, Cathy

This is the only shorn Britney shot I'll be recreating

Three Bugs in a Rug

So we're okay
We're fine
Baby I'm here to stop your crying
Chase all the ghosts from your head
I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed
Smarter than the tricks played on your heart
We'll look at them together then we'll take them apart
Adding up the total of a love that's true
Multiply life by the power of two




Happy Love Thursday

Like Mother Like Daughter

I'm afraid the Goose has some serious explaining to do.



As her mother, I would like to think she sang her ABC's to get all those beads.

I knew I should have never let her hang with the makers of "Toddlers Gone Wild".


Or maybe I only have myself to blame.

On Broadway!!!!!

I think this may be my new favorite pic!

The man I didn't even know I could hope for

Like a lot of other teenage girls in high school, I had a lot of romantic hopes and dreams- all of which centered around my high school beau. We dated throughout high school only to break up weeks after I left for college. I was devastated as I thought he as "the one". No, no, strike that- in all my 17 year old glory, I KNEW he was "the one".



I never gave up the hope of the perfect man who would love me unconditionally as I would him. What I didn't know was that when my hopes were realized, that man would be 1/10th my age and that our good morning kisses would look a little something like this:



I hoped for a lot..... but I never even knew I could hope for something like this.

Happy Valentine's Day

What a difference a year makes.

Harnessing my inner coked-out hooker

Who has just been slapped.

Some random thoughts from OAM

1. I saw a bumper sticker this morning that I LOVE: Draft SUV Drivers First

I think this is now my second favorite bumper sticker. Only after, of course, the sticker that is a play on GWB's campain sticker with the big "W"- but if you look closely, after the "W" is orst president ever.

2. I watched the Grammy's last night and I now have major girl crushes on Mary J. Blige and Shakira and one boy crush on Ludacris. I love MJB for her body AND her talent (I teared up every time she accepted a Grammy.... I LOVE me some MJB), I love Shakira only for her body, and I love Ludacris for his beautiful milk chocolate skin... and the fact his hit "Money Maker" makes me shake what my mama gave me.... although it has never made me any money.... shocker, right?

Although the Grammys lost all cred when they gave a Grammy not only to John Mayer but also to Carrie Underwood. Boo hiss.

3. What the hell are the ad execs at Hardee's thinking? Can you imagine the MENSA meeting that must have been going on at their corporate office when some dillhole blurted out "You know what the American people want to hear? Do you? Do you? They want to hear people chewing. They want to hear people chewing big, fat burgers LOUDLY. And you know what else they want to hear? Slurping. Oh yeah, Americans love to hear loud chewing and slurping. You know what else I bet they want to hear? The sound of french fries being scraped against paper in an attempt to claim the last remaining molecule of cheese and burger grease. Oh yeah. Nothing turns people on and really perks up an appetite like the sound of a person chewing, slurping, and scraping. In stereo. Yeah, baby."

God I hate Hardees.

I have failed as a mother AND a dietitian

This morning, the kiddos and I were sitting at a red light at an intersection across from where I work when Gavin started yelling "McDonald's! McDonald's!! I see McDonald's!!!" I looked all around and was all "where do you see a McDonald's" because while there is a McD's close to where I work (face it, there is a McD's close to EVERYTHING), it is nowhere near the intersection we were sitting at. Gavin pointed and told me "over there!!" So I looked in the direction he was pointing and there, waaaaay in the distance on the other side of a forest of trees, I could barely see pieces of the bright red, trademark McDonald's roof through the tree limbs. Seriously, the boy was able to assertain that it was in fact a McDonald's by seeing 1/1000th of the roof from practically a half mile away AND with a million trees blocking the view.

Nice. One point McDonald's. Zero points me.

Later in the morning I called the husband to see how thing were going and I could hear Grace in the background screaming "Donald's! Donald's!" I asked the husband if that was what I thought it was and he confirmed that yes, the Goose was begging to go to McDonald's.

Sweet. Two points McDonald's. Zero points me.

No excuse

I had two kids close together, I like caffeinated beverages, I enjoy shopping at bargain department stores, I prefer to wear comfortable clothes and the weekend, and yes, I've even been divorced... so believe me when I say beyond a shadow of a doubt that none of things are ever- EVAH- an excuse for walking around like a filthy crack whore with a skullet on your head and puke on your sleeve.

That is all.

Now back to regularly scheduled blog.

You decide

Ultra adorable piggy tails for the Goose....





Or two brand new torture devices for the Gavinator....




I'll give you a hint, the answer starts with a "b" and ends in a "th" and has an "o" in between.

Three

The three reasons the Gavinator got sent to time out three times in three hours:

1. He peed on his sister
2. He wiped his boogers in my hair
3. He spit on me and then his sister


Boys are gross.

Three degrees of funny-a$$ sheet

From salad dressing war to man with eight nipples in three easy steps:

You start with this.

Then you get this.

And then somehow, you end up with this.

The pigs!

Things are on the mend now but I CANNOT believe what has been going down over at The Lactivist's Blog.

The Pork Board can definitely go pork themselves where the sun don't shine.