Mama Gets a New Look

This week was quite the adventure!!!  Stoofy, Elly and I all had a blast in NYC.  As soon as we got there I hit the ground running and went straight to the hair salon for a brand new 'do.  Since getting out of the Navy, I chopped my hair off.  I just couldn't stand it anymore and I was tired of being Elly's makeshift pull toy.  But this new cut really makes me look cute.  I went from a really nice, edgy cut to a super cute bob that fits my face perfectly.  It doesn't hide my face fat, but it does a nice job of camouflaging it. 

Speaking of camouflage... Stoofy did a great job of adjusting to no camo.  But that doesn't mean he didn't make a few jokes about it to the makeover stylist!  He and I spent most of our time separated until the big makeover reveal so that we'd be surprised with what each other was wearing.  So apparently when he was getting his new outfit, he gave the women a handy fashion tip they even used on the show- if you want to hide all your fatty trouble spots, just wear camo!!!  So there's your Stoofy fashion tip!

Now, we didn't get a whole new wardrobe or anything like that, but we did get a nice outfit, plus a free trip to NYC, and a nice lunch out on the town.  So all in all, a damn good two-day trip!

My dress was a sexy little red and fuchsia number.  I NEVER would have picked something like that out for myself.  One, it was super form-fitting, so I tend to keep my fat ass away from that kind of thing.  Not to mention the colors looked like they wouldn't work together.  But after two pairs of spankx and the help of a giant shoe horn, I was able to stuff slip right into that beauty.  And wouldn't you know it, I looked awesome.  Because it was fitted, it gave my fat rolls a beautiful hourglass shape, the colors popped as vibrant as my personality and it was a gift from the Nate Berkus show.  Who wouldn't love that?!?!?! 

We didn't get to spend more than the 10 minute taped segment with Nate.  Which is a bummer, but his whole production staff were great!!!  They're just the nicest people ever and Elly just loved them all.  In fact, they all loved her too.  (I’m pretty sure most of them offered to kidnap her and keep her as the show’s mascot.  I doubt that’s legal.)  And she actually spent more time with Nate than we did!!!  He even gave her a shout out about how cute he thought she was and how the whole staff wanted to keep her during the show!  Now if that isn't cute, I don't know what is! #stealingmamasthunder #jealousstagemom

I think the most amazing (read scary, terrifying and I must be off my meds to do this) thing was that I allowed the stylist and Nate to tell the whole freakin' world that I'm a size 14/16.  That's right, I just did it again.  I told the whole world what my dress size is.  And honestly, it's not as scary as I thought it would be. 

Mainly because we talked about why my size is so hard to shop for and I realized I can't possibly be the only woman in the world who's a 14/16 and can't find clothes.  I'm a true 14/16.  I'm not a plus sized woman, my proportions aren't really plus sized.  Yes I have big boobs, and yes I have a wonderful layer of insulation around my mid-riff, but I'm not a plus.  I'm just an XL.

And as it turns out, major department stores only carry one 14 and one 16 in each style of dress in their stores.  Why that is, no one knows.  It probably goes back to everyone's supposed to be a size -4 to fit into the clothes they make for my hangers.  But that's why it's hard to find dresses and outfits for my size.  And it took the stylist 3 days to find my outfit.  I don't have 3 days to shop for anything.  Elly gets a little impatient and I don't even have the patience for that kind of marathon shopping. 

So there you have it.  I'm a sexy size 14/16 mama who broadcasted to the world that you can have fluff and still look hot!  You just need a team of hair and makeup specialists and a personal shopper to pull it all off.  So, I'm going to need each and every one of you to share with your friends this awesome blog, so that I can figure out a way to make a living just writing about my life and maybe sharing tips on how to cook, sew, craft and make sure you don't accidently step on your kid so I can have my personal dream team.  Someday this will all pay off.....

I'll be on TV!

So I feel like every time I try to sit down and write something I get distracted by something shiny.  This week it's been hearing from the producers of the Nate Berkus show.  Who's Nate Berkus?  (Check the link to the left for full details) He's an interior designer who got hooked up with Oprah and ended up getting his own daytime TV show.  And I'm going to be on his show next week (well, the show tapes next week, I have no clue when the actual show will air) to get a makeover!

How in the hell did I get called for a makeover?  Well I won them over with my charm of course!

It all started with my mom being on semi-permanent vacation and not having enough to do but watch daytime TV.  She liked him on Oprah so she checked out his new show that kicked off in September with all the other new fall shows.  She then promptly texted me to tell me to apply for a makeover.

If you have read this blog, you'll know that I got out of the Navy back in November (about 6 weeks ago actually).  And I've realized since getting out (and leading up to getting out), that I suck at being a girl.  I am so used to wearing my hair pulled back all the time, not worrying about what clothes I need to wear for the day because it's the same thing every day (thank you uniform), or even having earrings to wear when I'm not in uniform.  Needless to say, I REALLY NEED A MAKEOVER!!!

So I did what my mother told me to do, and I applied.  It's a really good thing I listened to her, because last week I got a couple calls and emails from one of the show producers!  They wanted to know more about me!

Well after finding out that I'm not only fashion challenged after being militarily reformed for seven years, but that I'm also pretty darn funny they decided to move forward... to the next interview.

And the next interview was actually with Stoofy!!!!  They asked him a ton of questions about me and then they realized that he's a vet too.  And they started asking us both questions about BOTH OF US.

As it turns out, Stoofy and I are a pretty funny couple (when we're not screaming obscenities at each other.)  So it wasn't too big of a surprise this morning when I got the official call that the show is booking our travel arrangements!

So Stoofy, Elly and I are headed to NYC next week for the very first time ever to get a makeover!  (Even Stoofy is getting a makeover!  No more Carhart pants!)  I don't know whether to pluck my eyebrow (yes, eyebrow as in singular as there is only one, I just disguise it by plucking halfway between my eyes) or remove the chipped nail polish from my gnarly toes or just leave it all for them to deal with.

I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen either!  I know we're both getting makeovers, but I don't know what that entails.  I don't know if I'm getting 1-2 outfits, or if I'm coming home with a suitcase full of new things. 

All I know is I'm boarding a plane in a week with my husband and daughter looking ho-hum, and I'll be returning as a superstar!!!  (and hopefully with some makeup and clothing tips so I can recreate this when I get home!)

Wish me luck, and I'll let you know when to watch.  You never know!  My mom could be right, and this could be the next big step for Betty!!!

The Health Insurance Scam

Today I want to pout like a child.  I got my first pay stub from my new job and Uncle Sam took out quite a huge chunk.  It's partially my own doing since I claimed so few exemptions.  I just don't want to get stuck with a bill again this year after last year's mishap.  But my God! 

So I'm feverishly calculating my taxes and deductions.  I also worked out my life insurance policy and retirement fund contributions.  And after that I got the mind-numbing experience of researching health care packages.

Now for you readers in Canada and Russia (and by the way I'm totally stoked about a reader in Russia!  I'm excited about my Canadian fans too, but Russia is much further away, which increases the cool factor.  So thanks for reading!  And become a follower of the blog or at least like me on Facebook! You might get cookies!)  the health care debate in America might be boring to hear about.  Sorry.

There are some major perks to having free health care while in the military.  The main one being it's F-R-E-E!!!  Duh!  But that old adage, "You get what you pay for," is 100% true when it comes to military medical treatment.  Yes, you get assigned a Primary Care Manager, but you rarely see that doctor more than once in all the times you go to medical.  Often you see someone that works for that guy.  Or that guy transfers after your last visit with him.  And you have to hope and dream that every time you go in for a reoccurring issue that the last guy put in detailed notes.  But most likely you have to start all over.

Getting a referral is a bit of a joke some times.  And even when you get the referral, you basically have a better shot of winning the grand prize at the local BINGO hall on Friday night than you do being seen in that month.  When I was pregnant, they weren't going to get me in to see a doctor for my FIRST visit until I was almost 20 weeks!  They just couldn't fit me in.  (Sorry I got knocked up during a high baby-making time frame, but I'd love to be seen by a doctor!)  And I at the paperwork orientation I was one of 2 active duty servicemembers there.  The rest were spouses who had the opportunity to go out into the local area to get treatment if they wanted.  I was stuck.  I had to be seen by the military doctors... when they got around to it. 

So yes, there are some major drawbacks.  Like every problem you have can be treated by staying hydrated and taking Motrin.  (You think I'm joking?)  Or like calling for a mental health appointment because you're about 2 days from a break down and they can fit you in next month. (That's not a joke either.)

But today I found out just how spoiled I was.  Reading through all the health insurance options with my job is overwhelming.  Trying to pick the best plan for the best price is crazy.   There are a million different options.  And trying to find one that is going to cover well baby checkups for Elly, the random sickness appointments for Stoofy, not to mention the near fatal accidents I create for myself at least once a year need to be factored in.  Plus glasses for the family, dental checkups, and prescriptions.  I'll probably need a prescription for anxiety by the time I'm done with all this paperwork!

And trying to figure out PPOs, HMOs, FFSs, FSAs and all the rest of the medical alphabet soup sucks. I wish there was a help calculator where you put in some of your pertinent personal information and then it spits out 2-3 of the best options for you.  Then you review those and voila! You've got the best, most comprehensive medical coverage $193.83 a pay period can buy!

Now all I have to figure out is my tax bracket and how best to not let those jokers on Capitol Hill screw me.  That's probably a lost cause...

A Few of My Favorite Things

In the spirit of end of year review mania that seems to hit our country about this time every year, I figured I'd jump on board.  And as a side note: until I started working in news I never knew why every single tv, radio, paper, magazine, etc. puts out a best of at the end of the year... until I wanted some down time around the holidays too.  So what's the easiest way to create that for yourself around the holidays?  Just rehash all the shit you've already done and call it "new"s. 

Anyway, even though I've only been a part of the blogosphere since July (and I took that trip to Jupiter, aka fell off the blogging planet) I still feel like I've got some gems in my archives.

So here are a few of my favorite things (in no particular order):

1) Breastfed Thighs
I'll do my best to keep the positive about my thighs come the end of January.  That's inevitably when swimsuit shopping season begins and I'd much rather slice my left hand off with a circular saw than expose my thighs to the world (or expose the world to my thighs depending on how you look at it). 

2) What Did I Step In?
I feel like I step in a pile of shit every week.  Some weeks are shittier than others.  But this one just tops them all.  I mean, seriously.  What the hell is wrong with people?  Clearly advertising geniuses know how to plug their products with cute babies.  Because people will literally look past whatever shit you've got when there's a cute baby to look at instead. 

3) Got Milk?

This is actually a blog from my early days.  I hadn't really introduced everyone to Abby yet.  But I realized since I talked about her so much as a friend, that she just needed to be named and be a full-blown character in my daily crazy.  The main part of the blog really was word for word an email I sent her after being fascinated and disgusted by my cow-like ability.  And although I've stopped breastfeeding, I'm grateful for having endured that crazy shit for as long as I did for Elly.  She'd better be a grateful little kid when she grows up or else! 

 

4) Losing My Hair.. and Marbles

I still chuckle a little every time I read this.  And then the chuckles are drowned out by my tears of sadness over my awful hair.  I have had it cut into a nice, hot-mom cut.  So at least my hair is a lot more manageable than when it was longer.  And by the way, I STILL haven't found that freakin' calendar yet! 

 

5) Tinkling

I actually have to go use the little girl's room right now.  So I'd better stop what I'm doing and take a break or else I may have a code yellow alert!

 

6) In Search Of...

It still truly amazes me how your body completely changes when you're pregnant.  And then morphs into something completely different after the baby.  I'll never understand people (specifically insensitive asshole men) who say, oh you're just lazy that's why you don't have the exact same body after having the baby.  Uh newsflash dumbass, it doesn't work like that.  Not only am I searching for my ass, I also grew bigger feet.  No amount of zumba is going to fix that shit! 

7) Being an Adult Rocks!

I crack up every time I eat a deli sandwich now because I only think of windshield meat.  If you ever end up tossing turkey on someone's car and they eat it, please let me know!!!! And if you do witness that, I hope you scream at them "BEING AN ADULT ROCKS!!!"

8)BOOBS!

This is still one of my all-time favorites.  Because I am so impressed at how many different ways I could work the word boobs into the blog.  And because of that, I actually had a few people stumble upon my blog because of their key word searches.  Here's what can land you in Betty's world if you google it: "Big Milk Boobs," "Boobs," and my personal favorite "Boobs Rock the World."  Yes, yes they do! (PS, I'd love to know who googled "I'm not doing that" and found me!!!  LOL! What the hell aren't they willing to do I wonder!)

9) Vanilla Tuna

There are some people in this world you meet and never remember again.  And then there are some people that leave a lasting impression on you for the rest of your life.  The stinky girl in my Navy school is one of those people I'll never forget.... and I'm so grossed out by it!

10) Caught Red Handed

Elly just kills me some days.  Every day she's learning, exploring, and absorbing new information.  She amazes me... right up until she's caught red handed doing something shouldn't have done but has no idea that it was a no-no.  I clearly have a long road ahead of me teaching her important life-lessons.  And I feel like a lot of them are going to be really messy!

11) Pumpkin Pie and Jail Time

What's terrible about this pregnancy memory is that even though pumpkin pie is my absolute FAVORITE dessert and it's what I love more than anything for my birthday cake, I still haven't had a slice in 2011!  Sad :-( I better get on that before the year is over and I better make sure I don't go to jail getting pumpkin pie!

12)   That's Not Fair

The phrase "That's Not Fair" could quite possibly be one of the most famous sayings heard in my house growing up.  Either (or in my opinion, mostly) my sister or me would utter that phrase whenever we had felt slighted.  Our mother was very careful to make sure that things were as fair as you can make them for two completely different-minded children constantly at each other's throats.  So I feel like because of that, I have an obsession to try and make things as far as possible in the world when I can.  However, there are things that just can't be helped.  Like the fact that Snookie makes millions more than I do.

Well there you have it!  Betty's favorites of 2011.  I can't even imagine how exciting 2012 will be!  In just a few short months Elly will be a year old, Stoofy and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary, I'll go on at least 12 tirades threatening to kick someone in their shins, and on top of that, I've got the regular comings and goings of life to chronicle. 

Please be sure to follow me on Facebook, become a fan of this blog, and most importantly TELL YOUR FRIENDS!  I am a narcissist and I need constant positive approval.  So the more people who like me, the better I feel.  JOKING, but not really.  Force your friends to like me if you have to.  It's fine, I completely approve of it!

And I'll have plenty more to add before the year is over... but until then, thanks for enjoying 2011 with me!

I'm One Lucky B!

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I recently got out of the Navy.  And if you've been reading my blog since I started, you also know that I've been crazy (that might not be a strong enough description actually) about looking for a job so, you know, I'm not homeless and the baby has food.  (You know, nothing major or anything.) 

Well, I've been very fortunate in landing a great job in the civilian sector, and it's truly been a major blessing how it's all worked out. 

I'm a firm believe that I'm very lucky.  Not like lucky in that I win the lottery or anything (I wish!), but mostly lucky in timing.  I miss near accidents.  I miss major disasters.  I miss events that I wish I could have been at, only to get an opportunity to have an even better experience (sometimes even behind the scenes) for that missed event!  And just when I think I've hit a bad spot and my luck has run out, I realize (sometimes I have to be reminded and forced to see the positive) that really, it's not that bad and I'm actually very lucky how things work out for me.  (My mom says it’s because when I was very young, like the age Elly is right now, she and my dad took me to Mexico and all these Mexican ladies swarmed me and blessed me.  It freaked my mom out since she didn’t speak Spanish and they kept grabbing at me.  Uh, yeah, I would have flipped out too mom.)

Take for example this whole Navy thing.  I've felt very slighted by the Navy.  I feel like I've been cheated on and just finished divorce proceedings. But now I've just gotten to the next step in the grieving process; I'm not as bitter any more.  (Well, I'm a little bit bitter still.  Just being honest with my friends!) But it's nothing like what it used to be.

Instead, I've taken all my knowledge and experience I gained in the Navy and put it toward getting a new job.  And then as luck would have it (and awesome timing) a series of crazy events lead me to my job today!

First, I was going to move to Washington State.  But I started getting notices that my resume was moving along with jobs in the DC area.  So Stoofy and I decided to try staying put.  I told my supervisor that I was staying in the area and for her to keep her ears open for jobs for me. (And that's called networking folks!  Or nagging depending on your view.) Well, one of my co-workers decided to take it upon himself to cancel an assignment he had no business cancelling without our supervisor's permission.  My supervisor got a call from the canceled event coordinator. 

Well those ladies got to chatting (after a whole lot of yelling at the nimrod who shirked his duty!), and it just so happened that the woman coordinating the event was looking for a journalist for a job position!  Hot damn!  So my supervisor said I've got the perfect girl for you!  And low and behold.... I got my foot in the door.

Now, this isn't exactly success yet.  But it's a start.  You see, there are major budget cuts happening across the board in the federal government.  (And unless you've had your head up your ass for the last few years, you would already know that fact!)  So there was absolutely no guarantee the job they needed to hire someone (like me) into would even exist after a round of budget cuts.  But as it just so happens, my soon-to-be supervisor worked her magic and got approval.  The only hang up was she couldn't hire anyone until the guy still filling the job before me officially left his position, late in November.

Well, that's no problem, since I couldn't take a job until after my final day in the military....LATE IN NOVEMBER!!!  Oh snap!  Another win for the good luck girl! 

We began processing all my hiring paperwork that goes into federal employment after I got a soft job offer.  Processing paperwork to be a government employee is a lot like your paperwork in-process for the military.  The only difference is you don't get a shot in the ass when you become a government employee.  (That should be a selling point when advertising jobs.)

And wouldn't you know it, my paperwork was having issues and it didn't look like I was going to make it by the deadline to start my job on time.  I had until 2:00 pm on a Friday to get everything in so I could start on Monday morning or I’d have to wait two weeks before I could officially start.  I held my breath and sucked it in and just barely got it all in on time!  And thank God I did! 

I started my job just a couple weeks ago and have begun to hit the ground running.  I'm very grateful for my job and the opportunity to get my career going.  And even more so grateful after I found out just last week that had my paperwork been delayed, I wouldn't have a job to start today.  Because they just laid down a hiring freeze.  My job offer would have been frozen and I would have been sitting at home with Elly wondering what the hell am I going to do now!?!?!?!?

So when I say I'm one lucky B, I mean it.  I get things in just the nick of time.  Life seems to work itself out in just the right moments.  And for that, I'm forever grateful!


****Betty's note: My mom set the record straight.  I was actually much closer to Elly's age right now when I was blessed by Mexicans.  She wanted to make sure I got the facts straight.  Side note from Betty's mom: It was Labor Day weekend 1983 in Metamora, Mexico, just across the border from Brownsville, TX.  I guess I need to plan a trip there with Elly ASAP. (Maybe once I actually earn some vacation time!)****

Quit Your Bitching

No seriously.  Just quit your bitching right now.  Whatever you're whining and complaining about right now isn't that bad.  Unless you're complaining about someone's life in mortal danger, you don't have it nearly as bad as someone else this holiday season. 

Overall, this has been an incredibly hard year for me and Stoofy.  Probably the hardest year of our lives.  And if it weren't for Elly, we both agree this year could make it to the top of the list of worst years ever.  No joke.  Yet, we've got our health.  We haven't gone completely bankrupt.  We've managed to get through our hard times and things seem to finally be picking up and tides have turned.

Abby's been having a rough go of things this week as well.  There's nothing like waking up one morning and not being sure if the sky is really blue, if up is actually up and if there's anything in this world you can actually trust and believe in.

I've got another friend whose father was nearly blind, had surgery for his eye and ended up coming through great.  That is, until he got in a very serious car crash this last week.  He's got some very serious injuries and on top of that, his eye surgery from earlier this year could be seriously affected. 

But this weekend has been one of the hardest for one of Stoofy's friends.  God bless my husband.  He did something heroic that not everyone can say they've done.  He actually saved a friend's life.  His friend has been having a rough go of it for YEARS. 

He's an Army vet with very severe PTSD.  He's had some seriously bad breaks.  His ex-wife left him with 4 kids (not all of which are his) as she went on a multi-state crime spree and ended up in federal prison.  His mom, who he cares for,  has had cancer.  And he's having an incredibly hard time keeping a job.  So of course that means he's not making ends meet. 

His story will make you cry.  It makes me cry every time I think about it.  And Friday night he finally had enough.  He began saying his goodbyes to the world.  And that included my husband.  But Stoofy recognized the signs and immediately went to his house.  Thank God he did.  Because without Stoofy, his friend would have ended his life.  His reasoning is that his kids would at least get more from social security than what he could provide for them.  He couldn't even afford to send them to a Christmas party for $3 each this year. 

He finally had enough and was ready to check out.  Without Stoofy, he would have.  But my husband got there with enough time to take the gun away from him.  And he and I have been working feverishly the last couple of days to get him help. 

Because there is nothing worse in this world than to know one of our true American heroes, who has sacrificed his life for our country, can't provide for his young children.  That we as Americans have let him slip through the cracks.  Our government, and the system Congress keeps fucking up daily, has failed him greatly.

So for God's sake, before you start complaining that you don't have enough time to finish that last batch of cookies or that you ran out of bows for your kid's presents, just shut the hell up.  Because you have nothing to complain about. 

Vanilla Tuna

I'm a part of various groups, whether in person or in the interwebs.  One of my virtual groups of friends is having a Secret Santa party in reality.  It should be a lot of fun because so many of us have met a couple people personally in the group, but not everyone has met everyone personally.  Yet, we're all friends. 

We know certain funny stories about each other, we have a good idea of what our kids like, who our celebrity crushes are, etc.  But if I had to pick one of them out of a line-up, there's about a 50/50 chance I wouldn't even come close! 

And because of this, it makes the Secret Santa aspect of the party that much more fun.  Because you could pick someone that you DON'T EVEN KNOW! So everything about them is pretty much foreign to you.  Talk about the ultimate secret!

I mean I know that A doesn't like the sight of breast feeding.  It totally grosses her out.  B loves to have sex with the windows open so the neighbors get jealous.  C pretty much wants to murder her husband once a week and is looking for volunteers to help bury the body.  And D, well, she's just a trip and is having lots of great sex with her husband. 

The fact of the matter is, I know that J makes great food, K just had a baby and L can put us all to shame with crazy kids stories.  I know who's puking or shitting at any moment in time.  I know who's just had sex, who's constipated, who's two minutes from strangling their kids, and who just put a hex on their neighbor.  (Why we all feel the need to share these intimate details of our lives, no clue.  Maybe it has to do with the fact that we don't all know each other personally.  Maybe after we meet we'll hear less about E's runs.)

What I don't know is whether E would rather have a gift card to Starbucks or a homemade scarf.  I'm not sure if P likes to shop at Walmart or a locally owned store. 

So to help with this, we've all begun to ask random questions about our preferences as a way to know more substantial things about each other.  Today's topic: what's our favorite smell?

My only response is: ANYTHING BUT VANILLA!!!!!  That smell is quite possibly the most popular smell in America and it grosses me out.  And here's why. 

Way back in the day when I first joined the military, I used to really like the smell of vanilla.  The lotions were a nice touch and as a bonus made my skin smooth.  But when I got to my first training location after boot camp, I got my first taste of what the "real Navy" was like.  And after the smell of boot camp funk wore off (there really is a distinctive smell you acquire while in basic training.  It's not really your fault, it just happens and you can't do anything about it.  Same thing happens on deployment.  You basically need to scrap everything afterward and start with fresh clothing after you're completely done.) it was back to wanting to smell pretty... pretty vanilla.

Well, the problem is, in the military you get a cross-cut of the American public.  (The good, the bad, and the fugly.) I just so happened to end up in school with a young woman who didn't really fully understand the concept of personal hygiene.  She didn't understand that you need to take a shower every day, especially after PT.  That you must wash your clothes regularly and that includes towels, sheets, and blankets.  Washing your hands after using the bathroom was even a stretch for her. 

And because of these habits, she ended up being pretty smelly.  I felt bad for her because she got put in a room by herself since no one could stand to live with her because of the stench.  She actually got held up before transferring to her first official assignment until they could teach her the basics of cleanliness.  And when I mean teach her the basics, I mean she was escorted to the shower every day and was watched to make sure she used soap and at least got a PTA (pits, tits, and ass) shower.  She was shown how to pour soap into and how to operate the washer. 

All of this training obviously sank in a bit, because she realized she was smelly.  So what did she do to mask the smell of tuna emanating from her being?  She reached for the most trusted scent in America and doused herself in it daily. 

At this point, the tuna smell was too far settled into everything she owned (they actually had to repaint the walls in her room when she left, and replaced the furniture because it had seeped into the pores).  So the vanilla did absolutely nothing at all for her other than give it a sweet musk additive.

So when I say I want NOTHING to do with the smell of vanilla it's because I think of a big, stinky albacore wafting up from the candle, lotion or body mist.  And I just puke a little in mouth because of it. 

World of Wild Crafters

You know World of Warcraft? (Yeah, I don’t either. I've heard about it, but I really have no idea what it is...) Well, if you don't know about WoW, I'm almost sure you probably don't know about the WoWC!

WoWC is the World of Wild Crafters.  I know, you're thinking, how crazy could crafters be?  Other than the occasional hot glue gun accident or needle incident, there can't be too much to it, right?  WRONG!!!  The crafting world is filled with enough characters to write a spinoff of Harry Potter or Melrose Place (the original one). 

You've got your scrappbookers (they're a bunch of cutters), your cake and candy makers (they're usually my favorite because I never turn down food), floral arrangement ladies (I'm pretty sure they're all born in the spring and named April), wood workers (their slogan is "We do it against the grain"), painters and photographers (that's like a Hatfield and McCoy feud.  And the framers are stuck in the middle). 

There's the jewelry makers (who are easily distracted by all their shiny things) and the needle point girls (don't piss them off  unless you want a needle to the eye).  And don't forget the quilters out there.  (They are usually found in gangs they like to call guilds and they're like the Masons of Crafting.  Once you've made a rambling rose quilt with appliqué you reach the 33rd Degree and get a special ring.)

And then you have the knitters and crotcheter.  They're a tough crowd.  And you're usually one or the other.  No bi-craftials allowed!  (I don't consider myself bi-craftial.  Instead, I consider myself an ambassador between the two sides since I do both.) I know, I know.  You're thinking "Betty, I think you've finally cracked."  But honestly, this is serious business! 

You see, being a military spouse means you move around a lot just like your servicemember.  It's usually really hard to keep bouncing from job to job.  Not to mention the cost of day care is pretty much absurd.  So many wives find ways to keep themselves busy, and market their hobby as a means of extra income.  Shit, I'd do the same damn thing if I could.  I totally want to make money off of what I love to do, and was going to do anyway! (Isn't there a saying about if you're doing what you love then it's not really called work?)

Well, in the WoWC on a military base, you end up having many people that do very similar things.  It's inevitable.  It's not like there's one knitter or only one baker in the world.  I mean, we do live in America.  In case you didn't get the news flash, we support capitalism here (unless you're busy occupying Wall Street).

Turns out, when there's a little competition, some just can't handle it.  It's gotten so serious lately, people are starting to de-friend others!  I mean wow!  This is EXTREME!!!!  Whoever said crafters are a bunch of boring old ladies has no idea what they're talking about.  This shit is the makings of the next hit reality show!

And apparently the wives are involving the husbands as well.  When I told Stoofy about this, he scoffed. 

S: "You women find the most ridiculous things to bitch about.  You wanna know what those guys are saying? 'Dude, did your wife bitch at you when you got home? Yeah.  Me too.  Over crocheting? Yeah! FUCKING IDIOTS!'" 

When I explained this is serious business and there's now competition, he replied:

S: "Everybody's got somebody else!  McDonald's has Burger King.  PF Changs has Panda Express.  Everyone has competition.  Get over it!" (This is where I realized we’re both fat kids because we’re using food chains as an analogy.)

Me? Well everyone's got a blog in this world.  I just have to figure out what my gimmick is to keep hooking readers.  (Hahaha!  I said hooking! I'm now a pimp! You’re all my bitches!) Maybe if I can't hack it as a blogger I'll keep working on the script for my new pilot show Crochet Drama: Secrets of the WoWC.  Maybe Snooki would be available for the lead role?

Nightmares of the Working Mom

I feel like I'm living a nightmare right now.  It's weird, because so many things are positively falling into place as I get out of the Navy and transition into the real world.  Everything except one: daycare for Elly.  Now that we're all moved out of base housing and temporarily settled with Abby, the next hurdle in my life is finding full time daycare.

First of all, watching a marathon of Law and Order: SVU is really not helping my daily panic attacks when it comes to for Elly’s childcare.  (Kids getting murdered and neglected all the time.  Who the hell let me have the remote?)

And it obviously can't be just any daycare.  I have a laundry list of requirements, but when tasked with typing them all out in an ad on Sittercity. I drew a complete blank.  I think I'm actually paralyzed with fear just thinking about leaving her with a stranger.

I'm a psycho new mom.  Like I take crazy to a new level when it comes to Elly.  So I constantly picture wherever I drop her off, the lady will smile and wave, and then as soon as I'm down the street, Elly's left to crawl through glass and cigarette butts, eat the dog food, play with everything dangerous, left in her own filth and the lady that said she spoke English can't actually read any of the instructions I left.  I show up and my daughter is completely traumatized and I collapse in a heap of working-mom guilt.

Just typing this is making me cry. 

Because there isn't going to be anyone in this world that can do what I do.  Not even my own mom, but she's the next best thing! She at least keeps my daughter on a schedule.  I on the other hand have let it all go to shit.  Ok, so maybe there is at least one person in this world that can do what I do... probably because she's already raised my daughter once when she raised me.

But still....

I keep envisioning child neglect and abuse and just plain old craziness in every daycare.  And yet, I'm stuck.  We're a two income family.  It's what works for us.  (Especially in the most expensive place to live in America according to the latest census information.  I also live in the #1 wealthiest county in America.  The median income is around $89,000.  I won't be making that.)  So I have no choice but to find daycare.

I'm also a coupon clipper and deal shopper.  But this isn't exactly one of those things you become a full-on penny pincher.  Because who skimps on their child care?  If there's anything in this world that the saying "you get what you paid for" more closely describes, I'd be shocked.  Honestly.  If you're going to be paying pennies to some secret evil witch, you can't be surprised when you show up at the end of the day to pick up your kid and she's in the oven.  But on the other hand, we can't exactly afford an au pair!  Geez! We're not one of the Real Housewives of DC couples!   

Now, I know I'm making this so much worse in my head than it actually is.  I get that. 

I know I will eventually find the perfect place for Elly and it will become a second home for her.  And maybe that's what scares me just as much (if not more).  What if I find a place that's just so perfect, that she likes the babysitter more than me?  What happens if she loves her more than me because she spends all day with her and not with me?  And now I've come full circle in the working-mom guilt. 

This is why I'm living a nightmare right now.

Can I Have Your Attention Please?!

Since I began writing this blog I have been shamelessly trying to get people to read it.  I'm actually a little impressed by my desperation to have people read it.  You'd think I'd be embarrassed by my craziness, but no.  I'm not.  Not even a little bit. 

You see, I lost all my dignity during child birth.  I don't have a shred left.  So to think I'd have a little when it comes to virtually spilling out my life on the internet for literally the whole world to see, I don't mind one bit!  (Unless you're one of my grandparents.  Then it's not really shame, but honestly Grandma, you're not old enough to read this shit.  Thank God you still don't get the concept of IMing yet, let alone a blog!)

Finding ways to get people to read my blog is actually less awful than child birth.  Ya, ya... child birth is such a wonderfully, beautiful thing.  You're bringing another human being into the world.  And yes, it is a miracle and yes I LOVE MY DAUGHTER.  However, giving birth at a teaching, military hospital is no joy.  Every doctor in that building comes in to stick his head up your gown to check your coo-ka.  And after that, every nurse in the hospital is in your room because they heard it's comedy hour.  (Stoofy and I did tell jokes and I really did half laugh Elly out... just ask Abby!)  It's like a parade of the vagina.  My vagina.  How the hell are you supposed to have dignity after that fiasco?

Whereas blogging is less intrusive...physically.  Not all of you know me personally.  And the more and more of you that tell your friends about me the more and more distant I become to you.  So why shouldn't I go all out in my quest for virtual popularity?  This is like my virtual quest for Homecoming Queen DOMINATION!

I had a friend create a special image just for me as my logo.  (And a big shoutout to Team Solo for the awesome image!)

I have become a fan of various websites, blogs and facebook pages, all in hopes they will return the favor. 

I have had a contest to get more followers and the person to refer the most friends won a batch of cookies.  (By the way, I went from 26 followers to nearly 90 between followers and fb fans!).

I have made business cards and left them at Starbucks.

I have advertised on Craigslist.  (Which by the way was fruitful because I gained another reader and got a fun email from him!) 

I have added fun key words to my blog like BOOBS.  And thank God I did! Otherwise the 14 year old boy who just googled "Boobs rock the world" wouldn't have stumbled across Betty!  (No shit, someone actually googled "Boobs rock the world" and got my blog.  I really hope I rocked his world with my words! And I really hope he was a he and was 14 and not some creepy 45 year old perve.) 

I have entered contests with freefringes.com.  Freefringes is all about helping get the love to the little guy like me in the blogging world.  And I've just entered another contest!  So when I post the link, I really hope you all vote for me.  Because I will be shamelessly begging for your love and attention and more importantly, your votes! 

Because honestly, all I want is a little attention please!

Mommy Moisturizer

As a new mom about to get out of the military and join the world of it-matters-what-you-look-like, I've begun to care more about my beauty regiment. I'm also very fortunate to have a daughter who cares just as much about my looks as I do now.

She cares so much that she's willing to help moisturize my face daily.... With her mouth.

It's my own fault, honestly. I taught her 'KISSES!' so she now loves to give them.

She gives me, Stoofy, the dog, the carpet, blanket, mirror, Bumbo tray, table, toys and any other objects she can yank toward her mouth KISSES!

But she's a sloppy kisser. Not only does she kiss with her entire mouth open (including when she kisses the dog) she drools like a hound.

She's also an incredibly aggressive kisser. When she wants to land one on me, she grasps my hair in both of her little jaws-of-life claws and yanks my face into her mouth.

She actually tries to consume my chin. It's not like I've got a Leno chin or anything,

but that doesn't stop her from kissing/eating/drooling on it.

She also tries to kiss/eat my cheeks and in doing so gets her slobber all over my face. She's kind enough to wipe it off, but ends up just smearing it further around my face.

And this becomes my mommy moisturizer. She's locking in moisture with her drool. Talk about disgusting!!!

You remember the scene in 'Turner & Hootch' where Tom Hanks finds drool trails all over his house and car and you cringe at the thought of it? Yeah, I live that every day.

Unlike the commercials you see about some magical serum that will turn back the hands of time to beautiful, youthful skin, this slobber actually turns back the clock TOO FAR! It makes me break out like a 13 year old hitting puberty. (I actually have a pizza face.) I can't remember when I had zits this bad on my cheeks!

But alas, they're there. And it doesn't look like there's an end to it soon. Because even though I'd rather not have a pizza face, I still wouldn't traded it for the mommy moisturizing kisses I get on a daily basis.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Recuperation from the Military

Since joining the military in 2004, I've lived by certain standards because it's my job.  The things I've had to change or alter are things you (the non-military you) probably take for granted. 

My hair is a certain length because the best hair style to fit my face is an "in between" style that is too long to wear down in the military, but too short to pull up in accordance with military regulation.  So I can't have it.  I instead have a bushy rat's nest. 

My nails are a certain length because that's how long I can have them.  They aren't painted because what's the point if they can only be clear or flesh tone? (I actually remember the year they began to allow french tips in the Navy! THRILLING!!!) Might as well leave them be.  (Unless you're in the USMC and wearing your dress uniform.  Then you get the privilege of wearing red or shades of coral!  SNAZZY!)

I stopped wearing earrings because it was too hard to find the specific ones I could wear in uniform in my jewelry box.  And finding regulation earrings isn't exactly an easy task.  (Yes, there's even a regulation for the size and type of earrings you can wear!  There's a regulation for EVERYTHING!!!!)

I've never been too adventurous in the eye shadow department, but even if I had, there's no point to it... plain jane is what I can wear.

Men's boots and shoes are my every day accessory to my khaki top and black slacks.  I couldn't tell you if big belts or skinny jeans are 'in' this season.  But I can tell you the exact measurement from the shoulder to the bottom of your service ribbons and name tag.  And if you don't have your warfare pins correctly measured, I'll call you out on it. 

Last night with Abby and my new Canadian friend, I had a revelation!  I seriously need a full recuperation from my service.  And I'm not just talking about Veteran Affairs compensation for various disability ailments.  I mean, I deserve a military funded make-over to prepare myself to be in the world of NO REGULATION!

I mean, other than no white after Labor Day, no ICP (Insane Clown Posse, aka Freaks) clothes other than on Halloween, and spandex is a bad idea for EVERYONE, there doesn't seem to be many rules when it comes to fashion.  Or maybe I'm just naive.  Maybe there are rules and I don't know them.

I'm pretty sure one of the rules is don't show up to an interview with gnarly man-feet.  That's probably going to be a problem since I have man-feet...they're crusty, dry, and cracked.  The nails are hap-hazardly polished.  I have calluses that ordinarily you wouldn't see in boots, but now that I'm about to enter the working world and I have to wear pretty shoes, I'm going to need to get filed off.  Pedicures will be required.  It might take an industrial team... or hungry fish.  (If you haven't seen the pedicures by fish, check them out.  Nothing says 'I want to feel pretty' like getting eaten by fish!)

I'm going to need an entire head treatment too.  We're talking deep conditioner, full cut and style, and whatever face potions can help erase the decade worth of worry lines I got in half that time.  Not to mention I'm going to need some de-brainwash treatments to get all the damn rules and regulations out of my brain and make room for whether argyle socks, leggings or tights go best with my outfit for the day. 

I HATE RUNNING

I don't think the title of this blog does my feelings justice.  I truly fucking hate running.  I would do just about anything else.  Actually there is only one thing I'd rather do less than run, and that would be go to work at my current military job. 

So if you're keeping tabs, here's how it goes from LEASET to GREATEST things I'd rather do with my time:
10) Report for military duty
9) Run
8) Get my legs cut off by a dull butter knife
7) Lose an eye to a red-hot pitchfork
6) Have each and every fingernail pulled out one-by-one by a Viet Cong prison camp dictator
5) Drink my husband's weight in melted butter
4) Drink my weight in milk
3) Eat salads five days a week
2) Eat oreos for every meal
And ultimately, 1) I'd much rather just wake up and magically be skinny.

But needless to say, if I'm ever going to get my perky ass back without having a baby in the next few months, running is my best option.

Why am I running?  I actually would really like to join a roller derby team.  But to do that, I actually need to be in some kind of shape other than round.  And I'm not nearly ready for wheels yet.  So I'm trying to set some attainable goals to get to the derby queen goal.  First up... run even just a little, then run a 5k in December (granted, it's a Hot Chocolate 5K.  So after I complete it I get a hunk of chocolate.  Good enough motivation for me!)  Prove to Stoofy (and myself, honestly) that I can set these goals and achieve them, buy a pair of skates and find a Fresh Meat club and get skating!!!

So, I've put on my big girl pants (literally) and my running shoes and got my ass moving.  Here's what I've learned in the last few nights of running:
1) It's fucking dark running at night.  You'd think that running on base would provide some better lighting, but you'd be wrong.
2) Frogs or toads or whatever the fuck is hoping alongside me on the sidewalk are gross and scary and need to stop following me.
3) I run as fast as my 79 year old grandmother mall-walks.
4) I am a little bitch when it comes to running.  And I run with a constant monologue of bitching, that and the sweet motivational tunes of Ke$ha.
5) Running past the wounded warrior transition barracks makes me feel guilty about being a little bitch, so I suck it up and run faster.
6) Constantly going through the list of things I'd rather do than run helps take my mind off of the running.
7) I hate the assholes I see with 26.2 stickers on their cars.
8) I'd really like to slash their tires.
9) But if I did that, then I'd have to stop running and then I'd never keep going.
10) Lucky for those assholes!

 So if you see a crazy ass woman "running" down the road in the dark with her glow-in-the-dark safety belt, talking to herself, yell something motivational.  But if you've got a "I <3 runners" sticker on your car, I'll probably flip you the bird because I fucking hate running.


Want to win ad space on The Bloggess? Link up your best post at lovelinks on free fringes like I did!

That's not fair!

We live in a world of haves and have nots. I have a lot compared to a lot of people in the world. (Actually, I have too much stuff now that it's time to pack up and move again. So I've been having a garage sale trying to get rid of my crap and allow others to have more crap in their life... all for the low low price of $2 a bag!)

I have a lot more than a lot of people. But I also have a lot less than other people in this world.

So is life.

I've accepted this as the way it goes. Well, for the most part.

Some days I get really pissed off that I'm not as smart as the Mark or Randi Zuckerbergs of the world. If I was, then I'd be a billionaire. On the other end of the spectrum, I'm also too smart to be Snooki or JWoww,  hooching it up for the entire world to see. If I was that easy or trashy, then I could be a millionaire and be a guest on Regis and Kelli.

 

Instead, I'm just average. Nothing too special. I am married, I have a kid and a dog. I've got a job (for now). I'm the all-American dream.

I have more than a lot of others. Yet, people who have more than me still approach me and tell me thank you. Why?  Because I'm in the military. I chose many years ago to raise my hand and pledge an oath to serve our country. And every day I'm grateful I did.

My service has given me a lot to be thankful for. I met my husband because of the military, I've traveled the world, and I've made the best friends a Betty could ever ask for. 

I've gotten a few free meals and free drinks.  I've attended concerts and sporting games on someone else's dime.  I've received discounted clothes, shoes and vacations.  I've even gotten tax free computers, furniture and a breast pump.  I think the best thing I ever got super cheap from being in the military was my hospital stay when I was in labor with Elly.  FREE!!!  BOOO-YAAAAAH Bitches!!!! (The stretch marks and puking were just an extra bonus thrown in by Mother Nature.)

I'm very grateful that in this day and age, the American public feels strongly about supporting the troops.  There are endless programs out there supporting us- everything from job initiatitaves (let's hope that helps me out soon), home programs, to helping out around the holidays.  And Sears is one of the companies helping out the military. 

They have a program called Heroes on the Homefront and every year service members can register to win a gift card for the holidays.  A friend of mine got $100 last year.  Not bad considering he'd gotten back from Afghanistan and just had a baby.  Thanks Sears!!! 

But the registration this year was a bit of a cluster fuck.  It was yesterday, but the system had a technical glitch.  So they scrapped those and did it again today.  Although, not everyone knew about the update.  Needless to say, a lot of people ended up not getting registered before the deadline today. 

And once that happened, so did all the bitching!!!  THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!  I DIDN'T GET REGISTERED!! BUT... BLAH BLAH BLAH! 

Are you serious people?  This is a gift for God's sake.  You are not fucking entitled to it.  It's not yours just because your husband is deployed.  It's not yours just because you've been stationed a few sucky places with a few sucky chains of commands.  It's not yours just because you have to stand duty this holiday weekend. IT IS A GIFT!!! 

If you were lucky enough to get registered.  Good for you.  You still might not get a gift card.  And if you bitch about that, then maybe you should stay away from me.  Because I might just punch you square in the face you ungrateful snot. 

Like I said before, the world is full of haves and have nots.  Accept it! Because honestly, not everything is fair in life and if you can't deal with that, be prepared for me to shoot a word-rocket at your face. It won't be pretty.  Until I have more than the orange-toned whorebags I love to watch on the TV, life is never going to be fair! 

Let's do the Time Warp

It feels like forever since the last time I posted a blog... maybe because it has been FOREVER!  A lot has happened in the last week.  I survived my first earthquake, babysitting the neighbor kids (talk about a crack up!), my daughter's first real sickness and trip to the ER, a hurricane, my husband returning and you know, the usual... life.

And it feels like every time I get ready to type something up, I get easily distracted... by something, you know, shiney.  And then I blink and it's 10 days later.

It seems as though the entire time I was pregnant and my life before having a baby was fast pace.  But now that I've had a baby, it feels like life is flying by at warp speed!  Already 6 months has flown by and my baby girl rolls over, sits up on her own, eats food, and waves 'hi.'  I'm sure next week she'll be wearing high heels, asking to borrow my car and drive to the mall to hang out with her friends.  Shoot me now.

Plus, I have less than 90 days left of my military career.  It feels like 7 years has FLOWN by.  It feels like yesterday I was headed off to bootcamp and doing a buttload of push-ups.  And even though I haven't gotten to do everything I wanted during my time in the Navy, I've still gotten to do a ton of awesome things and go to a ton of amazing places! 

I just wish there was a way to put life back on the play button rather than on fastforward.  I most certainly don't want a rewind button, but maybe a slow motion option.  Ultimately, I just don't want to be going through a time warp, I want time to smell the roses.  Not that I like smelling roses, or have any for that matter, but if I had time to, that would be cool. 

So if anyone has a way to slow things down, please let me know!

Role Reversal

As my bio description states, I'm hooking for jobs and pimping myself out in resume form. On top of that I'm saying prayers daily that I some how don't end up homeless and unemployed.  I'm in the process of getting out of the military.  It wasn't my choice, and if I had it my way, I would have served 20+ years.  But my fate is sealed and I'm on my way out due to budget cuts and the changing tide of the Defense Department. 

It happens.  In fact it's happening so much the military as a whole is in a major downsizing.  Worse, is the number of unemployed veterans from the current wars.  The latest unemployment numbers for vets right now are sitting at nearly 12%.  That's about 3 percentage points more than the overall unemployment rate. 

So to keep myself from those statistics I'm a job hunting, networking fool.  Any chance I get, I work into the conversation that I'm getting out of the military and looking for a job, plus I rock.  Why wouldn't someone want to hire me? 

And not every day has been a good one.  There are some days where I think to myself, "Betty, what the hell are you doing applying for that job? You aren't nearly qualified for it, and there's no way you're going to get it.  You're just a crazy kid!" But then I realize, I have nearly 10 years of experience in my field.  I've been doing this for a long time.  And I'm pretty good at it.  Plus I rock!

If you've never applied for a federal job before, let me tell you what it's like.  It's tourture.  Getting waterboarded would be more fun. You need to tailor your resume to each individual job.  Then you have to answer a laundry list of questions.  Half the questions are the same, just reworded differently.  It's not fun.  And then you submit everything and wait weeks to even hear back if you're resume made the cut.

The worst part is when you get a notification that you're qualified, but not best qualified.  What the hell does that even mean? You're good, but you still suck for us.  Nothing like an upper for your Thursday morning. 

Well, all the hard work of applying has finally started to pay off.  I've gotten a couple calls and recieved notice my resume has made it through the first round of cuts.  Now it's time to start getting ready for interviews.

I've been interviewing people on various subjects for 7 years.  I'm pretty darn good at asking questions and getting the exact soundbite I want for my story.  But being the person peppered with questions is something totally foreign to me. 

I'm so scared that they're going to ask me what my biggest weakness is and I'm going to launch into some crazy ass story that ends in my crying over spilled breast milk.  Or worse, I make a completely inappropriate joke about somebody's inept organizational skills and it turns out it's my prospective employer's desk I'm making fun of.  Or WAY worse, I ask the woman escorting me to the interview room how far along she is, and she replies she's just fat.  UGH! 

Needless to say, I'm super nervous about interviewing for a job.  It's an employer's market, not a job seeker's market.  And I just need to prove that I'm the shit (but don't smell like shit)! So the rest of my day today will be spent buying 10 pairs of nylons (because I'll rip a whole in 9 of them just trying to get into them), researching the job and employer, and pattening my P&P method.  (That would be the pray and puke method.)

In the end, I know this is just my way of getting "hyped up" for the game.  And that I'll actually be just fine and will find a great place to work that pays well, has good benefits, gives me all the federal holidays off, and enjoys my witty sense of humor.  Now, if only they'd just reveal themselves to me so I can stop P&Ping. 

Tinkling

On my ride to work this morning they talked about embarrassing childhood moments involving tinkling.

There can't be much worse in the way of embarrassing moments than peeing your pants.

The female host talked about the time she couldn't hold it in 3rd grade and it reminded me if the kid in first grade who couldn't hold it. And how mortifying that must have been for him. I still remember him, his name, and that he peed his pants.  That sucks to go to school with someone with a great memory like me. Poor guy!

What's even more cringe worthy was the girl in bootcamp that was too meek, shy, and afraid of the drill instructors to ask to go to "the head." She peed herself in the parking lot after dinner in front of 60 other individuals. I was the closest, but thankfully wasn't directly hit.

It was my job, however, to help her back to the barracks and get her through the embarrassment. Thankfully, our drill instructors felt too bad to make her feel worse. This girl already had enough self-esteem issues. No need to make it worse.

But the radio show host asked callers to regale the listeners with other cringe worthy stories.

I'm fortunate enough where I don't have stories like those from my childhood. However, adulthood and pregnancy are a whole other story!

No one tells you that you're going to pee your pants every time you sneeze while pregnant. And certainly no one tells you that even after you have the baby, and no matter how many kegel exercises you did, you're still going to pee your pants at every sneeze and laugh.

And no one warned me that I shouldn't discover Damn You Auto Correct when I'm one kegel away from being incontinent.  Needless to say, when I discovered the best of for each month, I laughed so hard I actually peed a little.  What sucks more is that those things are so fucking funny, that I just couldn't stop reading.  They're worse than Lays potato chips.  You can't stop at just one. 

I actually had to restrict myself for a few months until I could make sure I regained control of my urinary tract.   

And that's what's so important for new moms to know.  Is that no matter how many kegels you do, it's still going to be a little while before you can laugh your ass off without pissing yourself.  And even then, you need to make sure you hit the bathroom before a big laughfest, or else you could find yourself feeling like the poor kid in 1st grade who peed his pants in front of everyone.  But worse, because adults remember that kind of crap way better than children do! 

Divorce is a bitch!

I'm the product of divorced parents.  I have been since I was about 4.  I'm also the daughter of a deadbeat dad.  Not a real big issue now, because I've accepted this and I use it as a powerful life lesson and it truly has made me a stronger woman.  I also owe that to my mom.  She's an only girl with four brothers.  She's only known how to be a woman in a man's world.  Not to mention, how to do all the guy things around the house because there wasn't a man around. 

With that as my life example, I'm a pretty well rounded woman.  I love sports and usually follow the world of athletics much more closely than my husband, Stoofy.  I'm also fully capable at assembling my own furniture from Ikea, cleaning gutters and mowing the yard.  And when I'm feeling extra tough, I even open my own jars because I'm that kind of Betty.  I'm a tough lady and I also live and work in a man's world and I do pretty well at it, if I say so myself!

I can live in the world without a man, but it's not what I choose.  I love my husband very much.  He's truly amazing and at this very moment he's across the country, working his ass off and getting things settled for our daughter and I to move out there at the end of my military service. 

The end of my military service. 

I feel like when I say that, I'm talking about a death in the family.  Or worse, the death of my marriage to the military. 

That's right.  I'm getting a divorce.  Not from my husband, but from my first husband, the military.  And divorce SUCKS! 

The initial shock of finding out my military essentially cheated on me has worn off... slightly.  And I finally got word from the admin folks, aka divorce lawyers, that my divorce settlement that I've been on pins and needles for about 6 months has come through and it's looking pretty good for me.  Now it's just a matter of some formalities (aka flaming hoops to jump through) and soon the divorce paperwork will be finalized and I can sign it and be done with it already.  The problem is, I'm still left reeling as a middle-aged divorcee. 

The military will keep trucking along and has already found a younger, hotter woman.  I on the other hand am left to pimp myself out, trying to find any ol' job that'll take me.  And I'm hurt to the core because of it.   

I know that in the end, the military will realize it's made a mistake and will come crawling back.  But until then, I'm just left hurt, bruised and battered in the wake of Change.  I hate this kind of change.  It makes my whole body hurt. 

I've decided this is the last time I get divorced.  I made sure my husband knows, and he's agreed.  Because in the end, divorce is a real bitch!

Until later
~Betty

Get This SHIT!

I have a lot of "get this shit" moments in my life.  And now that I have a child, I feel like I have a lot more of them!  It seems to be the only thing I care about any more.  When was the last time she pooped, what color was it, how much was there, what does it look like, etc... All questions I NEED TO KNOW!  And what's really crazy is that it's actually really important.  It's not like my 4 month old can tell me her tummy hurts.  I just have to inspect what's going in and what's coming out to know. 

If only all the other "GTS" moments in my life were this simple.  If only I could just inspect what's going into the situation, then I could easily decipher what's coming out of the situation. 

In Mommy world, Elly poops on me, but at least she gives me a warning.  (She gives a little grunt and leg lift to let me know it's coming.)  It's like her little present to me.  For Mother's Day, she pooped on me.  Happy first Mother's Day, Ma!  (She also puked on me on Father's Day, but who's counting.)  Those are things to be expected.  

But in the real world, there is no warning.  Yes, I understand that everyone gets a little shit on from time to time and people just have to deal with it.  But is "just dealing with it" the best system? 

My "GTS" system (Not to be confused with Pauly D's GTL system) goes a little something like this: I see a train wreck coming.  I try to ward it off with precision planning and execution.  I try to account for all variables and it looks like I've successfully corrected course to prevent said train wreck.  And then BAM!!!!  I'm totally hit by the train coming from another direction.  SHIT IS EVERYWHERE!!!

The sad part is, after I get hit by the shit-train I'm not even all that surprised.  And that's when I say "Get this shit!" 

I usually swap GTS moments with my BFF/Almost-Sister, Abby.  She and I share in these moments because it’s comforting to know someone’s in the thick of it with you.  But unlike Pauly D who can mix up his GTL regiment with Ronnie and the Sitch and T before they G or L, there's no mixing up our GTS moments.  We just have to sit here and take it.  So says the military.

And then it dawns on me, I'm so programmed by the military to take shitty moments and just accept them as normal.  Shit is what's normal to me.  Big, heaping piles of stinky, oozy crap is normal to me.  Great.  I'm used to the smell.  Does that mean I can't smell it if I've stepped in it?  And if so, does that mean I'm the smelly kid in the back of the class?  Yup, probably.  GGGREEEAAATTT!!!!!

Just the shit I was hoping for! 

I'm hoping that this kind of training proves to be helpful in the civilian world.  And I really hope I have a lot less GTS moments when I no longer put on a uniform in the morning.  And even if I have a lot more GTS moments after my military service, I hope I no longer just suck it up and deal with it.  I hope I learn that shit stinks and I don't have to put up with it if I don't want to. 

Until then, I've got another fully-loaded stink bomb diaper to change.  Elly just lifted her leg to let me know the shit-train is about to pull into the station.

Until later
~Betty

Networking

So I'm knee-deep in transitioning out of the military and it's a messy process.  I really could use some shit-kicking boots, because that's what I feel like I'm walking through every day.  But that's for another post.  This post is about my ability to meet new people and make sure those people know I'm looking for a job and that I'm flat out AMAZING! 

The only problem is I'm moving to a state I've only visited a handful of times.  (Hubby is from there and since he's followed me around for my military career, it's time to give him back the pants of the family and let him win this battle.)  Moral of the story is I don't know anyone there other than my family.  Cool about the family, not so cool about the I need a job and need to meet people that work in my field so I can get said job. 

So, the stress level is high, just thinking about how to meet people in Washington, when I'm in the other Washington (Read: thousands of miles apart).  But I do what I'm supposed to: I join linkedin. I tell all my friends. I go to career fairs and job fairs and county fairs.  Hell, I even tried to go to a networking breakfast this morning (event was cancelled.  Don't worry, I still had an awesome breakfast).  And with all of this, I still feel like I'm lost in the wind, I have no idea what I'm doing.  Not to mention, how the hell am I supposed to get a job like an adult when I don't know anyone???  AAAHHHH!!!

But then my very wise, almost-sister friend Abby pointed out that I'm a natural born networking girl (not to be confused with a working girl.  Although they are pretty damn good networkers!).  And then it dawned on me.  I've been networking for as long as I could say Mama.  She was my first network!  And what a great network contact she was!!!  She provided food, shelter, comfort, and Barbie dolls.  You can't ask for more from a contact, other than for a job of course. 

All my life I've been a social butterfly.  All I've ever done is talk.  In fact, my first network contact, aka Mom, hated going to my parent-teacher conferences because all she heard was "Betty's a great student, but she talks too much."  Maybe that's why I ended up in the communications field... I WAS BORN FOR IT! 

So this Betty is getting her network on, making new friends and new connections and is on the prowl.  And once I land the job of my dreams, I'll still be networking.  Because that's who I am, the networking girl.

Until later
~Betty