I really wish I were better at stick people. That way, I could draw you all a picture of what happens when a small framed woman ventures into Home Depot alone on a Saturday morning.

(updated: I give you a crap version of what I wish I could give you as an illustration. Just take it.)

(Also added: Mike wanted me to put boobs (and a vagina) on my picture. I said no. This is called "creative license")

I find exactly what I want, a paint trimmer, and decide to browse the aisles for a few minutes since I'm in a rare state known as Free Of Offspring.

I find myself still in the paint section, contemplating whether it'd be safe to go ahead and purchase the supplies for refinishing my bedroom dresser, deciding that it's best not to start that project until the walls are finished. While I'm standing there, a nice employee asks "Can I help you with anything?" and I politely turn down his offer.

I move over an aisle, still checking out the paint, when another friendly worker asks the same question and I, again, turn down the help. "I'm just browsing, thanks." I say.

Ok. Done with paint. (I am super excited about refinishing this dresser though!)

Time to go home? Ehhh, not yet. I walk over to the rugs giving that our large living room rug is currently rolled up and sitting in our foyer. A victim of last week's stomach bug and also of Charlie's revenge for the new puppy, said rug is now covered in a comforting mix of dog urine, vomit and spilled milk (Chase's fault).

It's nasty.

I have plans for a Redneck Rug Cleaning: one rug, my driveway, a sunny weekend day and the water hose.

Anyways. I browse the rugs during which time another employee asks if I'd like any assistance. "Nope, I'm good" I insist.

Moving on to bathroom fixtures, we are unhappy with the ones that came "with" this home; they were just something we didn't think about when picking out 'upgrades' and they don't match. During my 3 minute rendezvous with the bathroom fixtures, another employee offers his "services".

Let me wrap this up by saying my next, and final browsing, was down the aisle with lots of stuff I didn't need. At the end of this aisle were two workers stocking shelves.

Guy In Orange #1: Can I help you with something?

Me: No thanks.

Guy In Orange #1: You sure?

Me: Yes. I got what I need. Thanks.

Guy In Orange #2: You look like you need some help.

Me: Really? No. I'm ok. I'm just browsing.

Guy In Orange #2: Ok. But if you are lost, I can help.

OMG REALLY? I'm not LOST and by "I got what I need, thanks" what I mean is "LEAVE ME ALONE". What is so hard about this? Just because I'm female and 'browsing' in a hardware store I'm automatically "lost and confused". There are shelves and shelves of tools and things that require torque and Man Juice, and because I'm in their proximity and With Vagina I'm SURELY in need of a pair of balls and someone in an orange vest to hold my hand.

O bother.

In my opinion, this isn't such a bad idea at all. I can't remember the last time I anxiously awaited something OF ACTUAL IMPORTANCE to come via snail mail. Does the census count? I'm a dork for federally mandated surveys.

Many Saturdays I think we forget the mail is even outside (this is me telling you to fork off, identity theft...ers). I'm totally a proponent of the United States Postal Service saving some much needed cash to, oh.. I don't know, possibly PAY THEIR WORKERS, not cut another 40,000 jobs and skip around posting another 3.8 billion dollar loss next year.

Just a thought.

I'm also game for businesses cutting out Mondays or Fridays (pick one), resulting in a 3-day weekend and less operating costs. Half those Monday or Friday workers are tweeting through the morning, and farming after lunch. I mean, heck, my dentist works from Monday-Wednesday, my endocrinologist only does half days Monday-Thursday and we all know we can't get out hair done on Monday, and this guy doesn't wear pants on Friday, so he should probably be at home (follow the hashtag #pantsoptionalfriday on twitter).

Or maybe we should just all work from home. Or the beach.

Those professional placemat decorators, craft lords and glitter warriors will always have a place for their "art".

I. Don't. Do. Hand Turkeys.

Or glitter.

Really, I've never been skilled in the art of table decorations, bulletin board design, or bubble letters. But those people have a special role in preschool (and most of school) and they will showcase their "talents" every chance they get. You bring a roll of red streamers to tape in sections above the door. They bring white tin buckets hand-painted with pink, purple and red spots brimming with pink "easter grass" with a small field of 8-inch suckers stuck inside for the "centerpieces".

I KNOW, I know... like I honestly need MORE to pick up, or watch, or care for... BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH MESSES GOING ON ALREADY... but still.

We acquired a bulldog.

A baby bulldog.

And her name is Bella... or Isabella which is shortened to any number of things (like "bells" or "SERIOUSLY, NOT ON THE GROUT!")

We had no plans for a new dog, NONE. As a matter of fact, my puppy years were behind me and I was looking forward to selling off all the onesies, bottles and the bouncer.

Wait.

Nonetheless, Bella stumbled into our family and needs a home. So, a home is what she'll get. She does make me smile, which is a good thing since me smiling is hard to come by these days (except the ones produce by Conner and Chase, those rock).

Fortunately for MY BRAIN, she's crate trained, extremely gentle, sleeps through the night, and honestly hasn't made a big mess (yet).

It's only been 48 hours, but I'm still wondering one thing - WHY DO WE HAVE A PUPPY?

...and....

I GOT A "BLOGHERSHIP" (volunteer position) AS A "MIC WRANGLER", SO MY TICKET IS NOW TAKEN.CARE.OF.

I know, right?

Basically, under the "qualifications" section of the application to run a microphone around a room full of freaking awesome women, I put "I'm tiny and I'm fast, do I need more qualifications?". AND THE BEST PART IS THAT THE WONDERFUL WOMEN AT BLOGHER LOL'D INSTEAD OF "..."ing AND ACCEPTED THAT. Good call, BlogHer, good call.

(BTW - does anyone else type faster in CAPS? It's almost like I know you are reading it as me being excited, therefore, I type in "excited mode". I'm going to stop now and get back to how awesome going to BlogHer is for me.)

DUDES!

Here's the part where I tell you that I'm both ultra excited YET totally overwhelmed. It's an honor, really, to help represent the BlogHer community (in such a small way, I know, but still). Not to mention how much I have to do to get ready for this! I'm a conference newbie, and this is kinda the Mother Of All Conferences. Meaning I have even MORE to do, and MORE to plan, and MORE to research.

Let's start there, mk?

First off, I need business cards. On these cards, I'll put my pertinent information, and hopefully, A SPONSOR. I've read that between 150-300 cards is a safe bet (more if you attend lots of parties or are a social butterfly) (I'm not quite a butterfly, but not a catepillar either, so.... I'm going to call myself a social moth and just order about 250)

For the entire back of the card (front of the card if I hand them out upside down) (lol), will be the logo of The Most Awesome Company Or Organization To Ever Exist And I Will Stop At Nothing To Make Sure The Person That Receives Said Card Truly Understands How Awesome You Are Except That I Won't Do This In A Manner That Might Make Me Seem Annoying Because That Would Be Counterproductive.

Yup.

Contact me at (my NEW email address!) Amanda@TheMomJob.net

In the spirit of you wanting to sponsor me, I'm also offering my boobs. Well, and my back. But come on, the boobs are clearly prime real estate.

I'm talking t-shirts. Or *a* t-shirt, for me (and not a frumpy t-shirt, but a nicely (read: tastefully) fitted tee with a logo (in full color) on one side. This will be worn in front of thousands of participants. I have more info for those interested. (Again - Amanda@TheMomJob.net)

For both sponsor opportunities, I'll also offer ad space on this site. During the conference, I intend to live blog and/or live tweet (many of you know "how I roll" with live tweeting - a mix between "IT'S LIKE I'M THERE!" and "I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING") (I manage to gain followers each time I live tweet an event) (one of my FAVORITE things to do) (yay parathesis!). This way, the thousands on people following the #BlogHer hashtag on twitter will find this blog and your brand will gain lots of exposure.

You can't lose here!

Anyone else going?

Layla is likely in her last hours, and this precious face will no longer grace us, but will join her Heavenly Father in His Kingdom - finally free of pain.

Image from Layla Grace.org taken by Christie Lacy.

t's Saturday and I'm making chicken noodle soup (via my crock pot - it's so simple, hearty and soul-meltingly delicious). Everyone has a full bowl of noodles, chicken, carrots and celery, well... everyone except Conner. He is eating processed cheese with his fingers. Again.

I've had a lot of guilt about Conner's 10 Items or Less menu for the longest time. For years, I cooked full dinners at least 5 days a week (and always things remotely "kid friendly" to encourage him to partake) - chicken, mashed potatoes, an array of veggies, lasagna, etc. - all in hopes that at some point, Conner would accidentally smell the cheesy potatoes or saucy lasagna and oh, I don't know, TRY IT.

Chase: pop! pop! (frozen pop)
Mike: ok. geez. (he'd already had 2)
Chase: no cheese!
Mike: NO. Not cheese. I said "geez"
Chase: NO CHEESE!
Mike: I said "geez!" No talking, Chase.
Chase: NO TALKING, DADDA!

Last week, I went to Target to... oh, heck. I don't remember my "reason", but it may or may not have been an excuse to browse the entire store for two hours. Mommy needs a break sometimes, kids.

Anyways, I started in the Junior's section, seeing that I'm tiny, but also because I'm 25 and in The No Woman's Land Of In Between Sections. As to not discriminate against any style, I quickly grabbed up about 15 items (mostly dresses) in varying colors and prints. The first thing that caught my eye was this:

It's just that even since, I've seen rompers in other places, and on Victoria's Secrets models, they don't look that bad. Dare I might say, they kinda look cute especially with a gladiator sandle or for casual beachwear. 

This is a trend I will likely (ok, I'm on the order screen) participate in. THEY ARE JUST HOT WITH HEELS, ok? Stop the judging.

**Updated to Add***

So, Donya, a friend of mine who runs the Pitter Pat House just linked me to this "romper" from French Connection:

...
Only... It's not a "romper" or even a "onesie", but this site refers to them as PLAYSUITS.

SRSLY WTF? WE ARE NOT TODDLERS IN A PARK OR PRESCHOOLERS MASTERING THE TEETER-TOTTER, BUT RATHER, ADULTS  - MORE SO, ADULTS THAT DON'T WEAR THINGS CALLED "PLAYSUITS".

/end rant

Never having problems finding friends before, I assumed that the not-so-often discussed world of Finding Friends After Having Birthed Small People was an inviting land of play dates and casseroles. A comfortable abode in which I traded appetizer recipes and gabbed over a glass of wine on the weekends. I thought we'd all have something in common, surviving motherhood, and with a little luck and a killer quiche, I could totally nab a good friend or two to fill the position.

But the exact opposite has happened.