Burrito Point

You know when you hear about teenagers driving around town trying to find a private, secluded place to park so they can make out?  Me either. I was an angel, but i've heard rumors that these places known in movies as the "make out point" exist.

I had a make out point experience of my own the other day, except that it didn't involve a boyfriend, or making out, but rather a burrito.  Yes, a glorious, squishy, bean burrito of deliciousness from none other than Taco Bell (minus the onions).

Let me back up a little.

I was running errands alone.  I needed to have blood drawn at the lab and had put it off for about two months.  Before my lab orders expired and I had to spend hundreds of additional dollars for a rheumatologist to re-order labs, I knew I needed to get my hiney in there and get it taken care of.  I ended up with the one and only super chatty lab technician amongst a sea of serious, "I'm just here to steal your blood and don't want to talk to you" techs.  I was not in a talkative mood at all. In fact I  would've rather dry shaved my legs with a porcupine, rather than talk to anyone. However, she was so darn sweet that within minutes she had me chatting and laughing as if we were long lost BFF's. Basically she is one of those magical happy people that I am not.

Anyways, I gave her my blood and headed out to run a few errands.  By the time I started to head home it hit me that I hadn't eaten all day.  I felt woozy, dizzy, and discomboobulated.  We live down the street from a Taco Bell.  Typically when I go to this particular TB, I get my food and then park in the Winco parking lot and eat my food before heading into the grocery store.  However, on this particular day I didn't need to grocery shop, and I sure as heck didn't feel like going inside just to eat a bean burrito.  So I decided to grab my burrito in the drive thru and find a private place to pull over and park on the drive home.

You're probably wondering why I couldn't just bring my burrito home to eat.  You probably don't have five kids. Imagine a lion bringing a single steak to a lion potluck.  It's like that.  There would be screaming, crying, possible bloodshed and "Why didn't you bring me something?" and if I did bring food home it would go something like this, "But I didn't want a soft taco. I wanted a Dorito taco. You don't love me.  WAAAAAHHHHH".   Kids are awesome.

Since it was close to dinner time and I didn't want to drop $30 on a pre-dinner snack for a bunch of whiney kids who were probably at home cleaning out my pantry anyways, I knew what I had to do. I needed to park and eat.   However, I quickly learned it's not that simple.

As I drove up and down the neighborhood trying to find a secluded place to park, I felt like everyone was staring at me.  I was getting the "Is this chick a drug dealer or a creeper" look, or at least that's how I felt.  In reality they were probably thinking, "What is that God awful noise that her piece of crap minivan is making?" I pulled over next to an empty soccer field and started to unwrap my burrito.  Way too many cars were driving by for my liking and I just couldn't do it.  I had burrito eating performance anxiety.  I put the burrito down and drove around the corner.  A man watering his lawn (pretty useless when you live in Portland by the way, but whatever) gave me the raised eyebrow, "Who are you?" look.   Damn! That spot was a bust as well.   I felt totally creepy and stalkerish driving down these quiet, residential streets.  Would I ever get to eat my flipping burrito in peace?

Finally I saw a place to park that wasn't in front of someone's house so I pulled over.   I was going to eat this burrito no matter what, even if people were driving by and gawking or taking crappy iphone pictures of me doing it.  I'm not attractive when I eat burritos.  I'm not attractive when I eat anything, but especially not a messy, ooozy, cheesy burrito.

I unwrapped my burrito.  My hands were shaking as I was deliriously hungry at this point.  I took a bite as beans, cheese and red sauce plopped down my shirt.  My burrito was cold but when you haven't eaten in several hours, you would eat a Goldfish cracker that had fallen down into the ass crack of your seat and was covered in hair, dust balls, and an old Lee Press On Nail.

As I finished my burrito I looked around to see if anyone was watching.  I turned on my ignition and pulled away, feeling a bit naughty as if I had just committed a crime and was leaving the scene.   As I got home I hid the evidence in my recycling bin as I know better than to bring empty food wrappers into my house with five kids.  My recycling bin holds the remains of many of my solo errand-running rendezvous.  If someone were to open the lid and look inside they just might find multiple McChicken sandwich wrappers, empty soda cups, Dutch Bros mocha cups, Starbucks cups, Reeces Peanut Butter Cup wrappers, and a bunch of other scandalous items.   I actually feel much better getting this all out in the open. My secret is out. I am having an affair...with fast food. 

Datevitation Review and Giveaway

When I was approached by Datevitation.com with an opportunity to create my own custom love coupons book, I was excited. I figured it would make an awesome Father's Day gift for my husband, who is almost impossible to shop for.   When I was a child, I used to make my own custom coupon books for my family members, but of course we didn't have a computer in the dark ages, so I was stuck using paper, crayons and a stapler.  This is a much easier, faster, and professional method of making a creative, custom, coupon book for someone special.

Basically you just go to their website, pick the dates and customize the text to your liking, and Datevitation will ship it out to you! It only took me a few minutes to make a book for my husband. You could also have the kids make a book for their dad or grandpa for Father's Day.

Their library contains over 350 date ideas ranging from dining out to skydiving. My personal favorites were the steamy adult only activities as this was a book from me to my hubby.

My coupon book arrived in a super cute little envelope that is ready to gift to someone: 

This is the cover I chose: 

The first page of the coupon book: 

One of the dates I chose (it has an empty box which you can fill in the date you redeemed your coupon): 

Books start at $20, but as a special offer to my readers, you can use the code 'PEANUTLAYNE' to receive $10 off your purchase in May or June.  The order cut-off date to ensure delivery by Father's Day is June 6th, so make sure and order your book soon!

One lucky winner will receive a free Datevitation custom love coupon book.  Giveaway ends on June 3rd so make sure and enter today!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
*I was compensated for this review with payment and a free book, but all opinions are my own. 

My take on Triscuits and toilets and whatever else pops into my twisted head

A Triscuit, a tasket, my stomach looks like I swallowed a bread basket.  The other day while cruising down the aisles of Winco, I noticed that the crackers were on sale.  I'm not a cracker person.  Of course that doesn't mean that I don't occasionally eat them.  For those of you who were lucky enough to catch my Facebook status the other day, there was plenty of mortification (I don't think that's a real word but i'm going with it), when I mentioned that for breakfast I ate brown rice crackers, topped with barbecue sauce and blue cheese crumbles.  I'd be lying if I said that I kind of want to go back to the store and buy more blue cheese crumbles so I could eat it again.

Anyways, back to the cracker aisle moment.  I was planning on buying some basic crackers for the kids when I stumbled upon Brown Rice and Sweet Potato Triscuits.  I picked it up, examined the box, then put it back. "We don't need these" I chanted to myself over and over.  I started to leave the cracker aisle, but those suckers lured me back.  I love Triscuits (one of the few crackers I actually like) and I love sweet potato, so this sounded like a match made in cracker Heaven!

When I got home I tore open the box.  It was Peanut's fault. He handed me the box and said, "Pwease momma can I have one?  It will be happy in my tummy."  How can I argue with that?  Holy adorable toddler moment! Anyways, after handing one over to Peanut, I excitedly took one out of the box (hey, I have five kids, this IS an exciting moment, okay?) It was Triscuity and wheaty, but very hard as if it had popped a Viagra and had a 48 hour erection.  It was also kind of weird.  I can't explain it, but I was convinced that I didn't like them and I was mad that I had wasted $1.50 on them.  However, before I knew it, I had consumed half the box.  Apparently they weren't that bad because they are almost gone.  Would I buy them again?  Probably not.  I'll stick with the original.  But hey, I bet you feel a whole lot smarter and wiser after reading this, right?

In other news, my toilet looks like something from The Ring. I'm still waiting for a creepy, black haired girl to pop out and make the O face.

I've also decided that douchebuckets who pull out in front of you as if their balls are on fire and then as soon as they get in front of you decide to drive 10-15 miles under the posted speed limit should be branded with a scarlet letter.  I vote D for douchenozzle.

My husband took my new MacBook Pro to work today.  I've had it for a little over a week now and I didn't realize just how addicted I had become until he mentioned that he needed it and I felt like running to the bathroom to throw up.  Why couldn't he just leave the MacBook and take the kids to work?  I could handle a day without children, but the MacBook? NOOOOOOO!

Today after dropping off the older kids at school, I told the boys we were taking a trip to Dutch Bros. I needed something to make me feel better about my missing laptop.  On the way to DB, Peanut asked, "Momma, are you going to the doctor?" He's a smart kid because a mocha at Dutch Bros is pretty much a trip to the doctor and getting handed the best prescription drug out there. Anyways, i'm going to go enjoy my white chocolate caramel mocha from Dutch Bros.  It's happy in my tummy.

Help, i'm married to soccer dad

It all started last year.  Our daughters decided to play soccer for the first time.  My husband is a die hard sports fan (mostly football).  Our entire fall schedule revolves around NFL and college football games. I wish I was joking. His teams are the Redskins and Seahawks in case you are also a die hard football fan and were curious.

This was us at a Seahawks/Redskins game in Seattle (in the rain and the cold)

The things we do for love....

Soccer was always the forbidden sport in our home.  My hubby would make a face when I would buy the kids anything with a soccer ball on it. He would roll his eyes and make derogatory comments about soccer and how football (NFL) was superior.  I always thought his dislike for soccer was lame and stupid but whatever, i'm also not a die hard sports fan so what do I know (or care)?

Anyways, the more our girls got into soccer, the more my husband's attitude started to change.  Then one day he was asked to shoot a Portland Timbers match (he's a professional videographer/photographer). He came home from the match and kept talking about how amazing it was.  I was surprised he enjoyed it so much, especially since he never cared for soccer before, but he talked about it for a few days and then I didn't hear much about it.

Spring soccer season started in March. Our older daughter decided she didn't play to again. No biggie. It wasn't her thing.  However, our 8 year old, is hooked. She lives and breathes soccer these days.  I don't know what changed in my husband from fall soccer season to the spring, but holy crap, he has turned into soccer dad on steroids!

He got to shoot another soccer match a couple of weeks ago, although this time it was the Portland Thorns (women's professional team).  He ended up being able to get free tickets for the girls and since he was going to be down on the field shooting, this meant I needed to come along to chaperone. Goody. I was not thrilled as i'm not much of a sports person and I know jack squat about soccer except for the fact that I know you're trying to kick the ball into the net. That's about it. I was a gymnast and a tennis player growing up. I never played soccer.

We went to the match and i'll admit, I had a much better time than I was expecting. I wouldn't say i'm a soccer fan, but I don't hate it either and I guess that's a pretty big deal since i'm not a sports chick.  However, my husband has become completely, totally, utterly obsessed.  I'm talking Fatal Attraction obsessed with soccer.  He got us more tickets for last Thursday night's Thorns match and this time he didn't have to shoot the match so he would be watching with us.  My reaction was, "We're going on a weeknight? At night? In the cold and the rain?"   His reaction, "Hell yeah. It's gonna be awesome."  Okay then.

But it didn't stop at the ticket purchase.  Oh no!  The following day I got non stop texts about how he wants to purchase season tickets for the Thorns.  Season freaking tickets.  Holy shitballs!  Not only that but he was practically foaming at the mouth to text me all day about various Timbers matches that we could buy tickets for, and the price difference between the Timbers and the Thorns and which sections of seats we would want and holy poop i'm getting tired just typing this.  My response, was "Babe, I think you need to splash some cold water on your face and get some coffee.  Deep breaths. Pace yourself."

Thursday night arrived and the hubby was bursting with excitement.  We got there an hour early. I'm not kidding. A freaking hour early.  We wore our Timbers shirts because we don't have Thorns shirts yet.  Yes, I caved and bought a Timbers shirt since I figure i'll probably be going to multiple matches whether I want to or not.

While we were walking about Jeld Wen field and trying to kill oh say an extra hour of spare time, my husband started talking about all the things I need to order online.  A Timbers scarf, a Thorns scarf, various jerseys and t-shirts.   I already bought a Timbers shirt, is that not enough? Apparently not. We have to be completely decked out head to toe.

The game (or match or whatever) started and that's when the screaming and yelling began. I looked at him and shushed him. It didn't phase him.

There's the Timbers Army....

and then there's my husband.  There's not much of a difference.

Our daughter had her final soccer game of the season on Saturday. It was our first and only loss. I think my hubby took it harder than she did. During the game he yelled, he cheered, he pouted when they lost. He even did the tunnel at the end of the game. Oh jeezus the tunnel! He's already counting down the days until summer soccer camp starts and then before we know it, fall season will start.  He even made a comment about how he would love to coach the girls next year, but he doesn't know all the rules since he didn't play soccer himself. 

For some reason this image suddenly popped into my head: 

We spent our weekend watching the Timbers and then he also decided to watch other MLS matches because, well, that's how he is. Once he gets into something, he is all about it. 

I'm really happy that now not only do our weekends revolve around football and UFC, but we can throw soccer into the mix. In my next life i'm marrying a sensitive ponytail man (yes, i'm making a Singles movie reference), who thinks sports are dumb and Steel Magnolias is the best movie ever made. 

You know you have a lot of kids when...

I love having a larger than average family.  However, some days I have that, "Oh my geez, we have a lot of kids" feeling. I grew up with just one younger brother. One sib! We each got our own row in the minivan. My kids are practically seated on top of each other. Who needs car seats when you have older siblings to help hold you down? I'm totally kidding, so please save your hate mail if you're one of those car seat nazis.

If you think you might have a lot of kids, but you aren't sure, this is an easy check list. If you find yourself answering yes to most or all of them, then yes, you're right there with me sister. I must note that as a mom to lots of kids, it's okay for me to make fun of myself, but we moms of many don't particularly care for others who poke fun at us. So here I go...

You know you have a lot of kids when:

*You go through a loaf of bread in one day. We buy a loaf of bread for each day of the week. You can say we go through more bread than underwear. No Atkins dieters in this house. Sandwiches are a staple. My kids will probably grow up and loathe peanut butter and jelly.

*Your grocery bill costs more than your monthly mortgage payment. Forget about Cheers where everybody knows your name at the local bar. You get the same reaction when you walk through the front entrance of Winco. Despite making a weekly list and checking it twice, you always run out of something (toothpaste, toilet paper, Advil, etc). Winco becomes your home away from home. You could grocery shop and sleep walk. Not a bad idea actually.

*You have no inside voice. Yelling is the new whisper. Okay, so maybe Mrs. Duggar has that super sweet, "Come on kids. Let's go outside and enjoy the daisies" kind of a voice, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she's raised her voice at least once and said, "Come on kids. Get your arses out the door NOW or this bus is leaving without you."

*Your kids couldn't tell you what a leftover is. Food gets eaten, even if it's something the kids don't particularly like all that much. That's not to say we don't have enough food to eat, because we do, but leftovers just don't exist.  Let's just say we have no need for a dog. My 16 year old son does a good enough job of cleaning everyone's plates.

*You don't have an extra seat in your minivan which means you are unable to transport other people's children around. Rats, rats, rats.

*It's cheaper to just buy a yearly membership to the zoo, aquarium, museum, or pretty much any place that offers family memberships. In one visit you've pretty much paid the damn thing off.  And forget about eating in the overpriced cafes that are on site. Your kids know you aren't buying $10 pre-frozen hamburgers and $5 sodas for everyone. We save that kind of financial rapage for Disneyland.

*This brings me to fast food restaurants. A trip to McD's for our clan, can easily cost a small fortune. Add in Redbox rentals for everyone and you probably could've sent your youngest to college.

*You keep all of your baby stuff stored in the garage. You aren't planning on having anymore kids, but you know darn well the second you drop that stuff off at Goodwill, two parallel lines will soon follow. You will keep that damn Rainforest swing in your garage until the day you die, or at least until your mid 80's when you're pretty confident that your ovaries have dried up like raisins and have fallen out in your Depends.

*You will never ever own a family photo where everyone is looking at the camera and smiling. Never.

*If you have a large family and want to add to my list, send it to me and i'll add you to the list along with a link to your blog (or Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, whatever).

A weekend wrap up only I would post

Phew, what a whirlwind it's been lately! I don't want to be one of those douchenozzely bloggers who apologizes for not posting much but i'm gonna be.  As Peanut says, "I sorry."

So, I survived my endometrial biopsy on Friday but holy poop it hurt! I do not recommend this procedure and I have five kids so i'm pretty tough when it comes to exams on my hoohaw. I was not prepared for this biopsy at all.  When I got there and saw all the medical supplies lying on the counter I started to sweat. The nurse said, "Oh don't worry. It wont hurt that bad. Just a little cramping." I began to relax until my GYN walked in and said, "This is going to hurt. You will be saying, Doc I never want to have this test done again."  Gee, that's reassuring as you're lying sunny side up and butt naked under a crappy, thin sheet!  The biopsy didn't last long but I was seriously wanting to scream out a string of obscenities, or at the very least kick the doc square in his eyeball.

After it was over I couldn't even move.  The doc had to help me up and he said, "How much ibuprofen did you take before you came in? I don't think you took enough."  I looked at him like, "HUH?" as I was not told to take anything.  He then asked, "You mean the nurse didn't tell you over the phone to take ibuprofen an hour before you came in?" I shook my head no and then gave the nurse the stink eye.  Anyways, the intense labor like contractions went away after about 15-30 minutes, but but I developed a very unpleasant side effect.  My momma would roll over in her grave if she knew I was going to talk about it on my blog but here goes….I have the worst gas i've ever had in my entire life!  I'm talking about knock a donkey over dead in his tracks! Plus the bloating is crazy! I look like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory after she turns into a giant blueberry, minus the blue hue.  I believe it's from the air being trapped in my abdomen from the procedure, but either way it's super awkward and embarrassing, especially when you have dinner plans with your husband's best friend and his girlfriend at their place.

My husband's friend and his girlfriend do not have kids.  They are one of those gorgeous (you want to hate them but you can't because they are too damn nice) couples.  Feeling bloated and disgusting, I got ready for our dinner date by throwing on some jeans, a spandexy tank top to try to slim out the bloat, and a shirt to go over the secret spandex.  Before we left for their house I tried desperately to get out some of the trapped gas but it wasn't working at all.  My hubby suggested taking two Gas X pills.  I'm convinced that Gas X's secret ingredient is actually gas because it made my gas so much worse!

Anyways, we headed over to their house and I was feeling nervous and sweaty.  My hubby asked me what was wrong and all I could muster out was, "I just hope I don't fart at their house."  His response, "Babe PLEASE don't." Great, added pressure.

We got to their house and greeted the gorgeous, movie star looking couple.  S is a professional costume designer for the film industry.  You can see her work on Grimm as she works full time on the set.  She's adorable, talented, beautiful and yeah, all of that.  I made it through dinner without passing gas by squeezing my hiney cheeks together so tightly, it was as if I was trying to crack some walnuts.  I drank two Diet Pepsi's in the process.  We all sat down on the couch and proceeded to watch a movie.  Considering both A and S work in the film industry, it's a given that you are going to watch a movie when you go over to their house.  You literally cannot leave their house without watching a movie.  It's like that Adventures In Babysitting movie when the kids wander into that nightclub and the man says, "Nobody leaves this stage without singing the blues."  The guys picked Django which didn't make me very happy considering I had just gotten over the nightmares from watching Robocop with the hubby a few weeks prior (hey in my defense it was my first time watching it as my mom wouldn't let me watch it when I was kid because it was so gory. Now I know why. Robocop is super creepy).  I knew I was in for it when I heard that it was a Quentin Tarantino film.  What I didn't know was that mother f'ing movie was THREE hours long!   I was afraid to use their bathroom because I knew I would fart and the bathroom was located right next to the living room, so I held my bulging bladder the entire time. By this time my Pepsi's had kicked in and I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pee. I just wanted to freaking fart! But I couldn't so I didn't.

I wish I could say the gas problem has passed, but it hasn't. I'm convinced that some trapped air made it's way into my abdomen during the procedure and decided to just set up shop in my intestines.  If the skies of Portland suddenly start to resemble those of Los Angeles, don't worry, it's not pollution, it's just my gas finally making it's way out.

When the decision gets made for you...

Today was rough and this probably isn't the hilarious post you were looking for, although there were definitely some humorous moments thrown into the mix. I had to see my gynecologist today. Why does that word still make me giggle?  Without getting too graphic, i've lost a ridiculous amount of blood in the last three months and it's not stopping. At all. I have an ultrasound tomorrow afternoon and there is a good chance I may be getting a hysterectomy at age 34.

I have so many mixed feelings and I feel like i'm on the verge of crying and just not stopping.  Here's the thing...I don't want anymore kids. I don't. But I don't like the idea of anything permanent being done to my fertility and that's dumb considering I have an antibody problem that would make me carrying a baby to term impossible. My last pregnancy was so high risk that it's ridiculous.  We are so lucky that Peanut survived the pregnancy and is healthy.

How silly is it for a mom of five to be crying about losing her fertility?  Especially when she has multiple medical problems including a serious autoimmune disorder/vasculitis and a million other issues?  But I am.  I'm crying because i'm officially closing that door forever.  I'm crying because I will never be pregnant again, I will never get to feel the excitement of finding out the baby's sex for the first time, or seeing the baby on the ultrasound screen, or the thrill of heading to the hospital to give birth.  And here's another thing I haven't shared, but I can't hold it back. I was recently pregnant and let's just say that things didn't end well and leave it at that.  And I keep thinking about how I could've been getting ready to deliver another baby in July, but instead i'll most likely be getting my reproductive organs yanked out and that hurts my heart in ways that I could never begin to describe.

I have many online friends (since it seems almost all of my friends these days live inside of my computer) who are pregnant or just had babies.  Heck, my sister in law who also happens to be one of my bestest friends (i'm lucky I have an awesome sister in law and not a sucky one), just gave birth a week ago to my newest adorable little nephew and i'm honestly thrilled for her! I have no ill feelings towards pregnant women or moms of newborns.  But i'll admit, walking out of the OB/GYN's office (the same OB/GYN that has been with me through two horrific pregnancies and deliveries and two recent pregnancy losses that have both occurred within the last two years), I suddenly felt very, very sad.  The waiting room was full of women with large blossoming bellies and there I was holding a stupid hysterectomy pamphlet in my hand.

I know that I can't have anymore kids. I know that I shouldn't have anymore kids. I know that I don't want anymore kids.  So what the hell is my problem?  Why can't I just be one of those women who has one or two (or even three) kids and is perfectly content being done.  Why do I have to feel this way?  My husband and I have big plans ahead and having another baby does not fall into those plans.  My dad always reminds me that I can't keep having babies forever and eventually I need to let them grow up so I can enjoy my remaining years and he's right.  I know he's right.  I just wish I could be happy but i'm sad and I know this is a bunch of crazy, rambling, mumbo jumbo and I apologize, but I just really needed to get this out so why not spill my inner most thoughts with thousands of strangers, right?  Geez.

So to lighten up the mood a little, my appointment was a 3 ring circus.  I had to bring my three and five year old sons with me.  I could probably just stop right there and you could use your imagination, but yeah, talk about a disaster!  The doctor has a bin full of germ infested toys in each exam room.  The boys immediately started fighting over a small Nerf ball as I tried to shout out my concerns over the chaos to the medical assistant.  She finally ended up taking the ball away as the boys were practically having a fist fight on the dirty, disgusting floor, and me yelling at them to "Knock it off" was falling on deaf ears.   So, I tell the boys the doctor will be coming in soon.  My son asks, "Have I met this doctor, momma?"  I explained to him that this was the doctor who delivered him and he looked at me with his big brown eyes and said, "You mean he dropped a package off at your doorstep?"  Um, sure, we'll just go with that!

By the time the doctor came in both boys were bouncing off the walls and it was time for me to get undressed so the doctor suggested the boys wait out in the hall.  Before they went out into the hall my five year old tells him, "I play about 50 hours of video games a day", which is not true at all. He hardly plays any video games at all.  Then of course after the doctor tells him, "That's not good. Video games will rot your brain. You should be playing outside" (which he does all day long by the way), he has to chime in again with, "And my brother sits and watches Barney all day" which is also not true as it's a miracle if you can even get Peanut to sit through one 20 minute show. The doctor gave me that look (you know the raised eyebrow look) and I grinned and said, "Boy these guys sure are making me look like mother of the year aren't they?" and the doctor cracked up as we have always joked around with each other. In my opinion you kind of have to joke around with a doctor after he's seen you in some compromising positions.

Tomorrow I have an emergency ultrasound.  This will determine which type of procedure I need done, but basically I will be having some type of permanent uterine procedure done in the next few weeks which will permanently end my fertility and endings are always the hardest for me.