The Rolling Stones lied, Time is not on my side

When I turned thirty I wasn't worried.  I didn't have a panic attack like my husband did.  And since everyone I know (except you Ginger) is older then me I've had no problem still feeling very young. King of like a spring chicken.  I look young too which helps. I still get carded often which to me is the holy grail of feeling young.

I mean sure my tits sag down to my knees because I've nursed two babies but I don't even mind because I have an excellent bra.  Sometimes I even toy with people for fun.  I was at the bank the other lady and the teller who was nearing my grandmas age was reading my license and I made some comment about how, "I was soooo old."  Of course she quickly reminded me that I was sooooo much younger then her and I had no idea what old was.  This was fun.  I like doing this.  I like it when people tell me I'm young.

Yes. I already know I'm a jerk

It is fun to be the youngest mom on the playground.  I'm a good four years younger then all of them and sometimes when they make it obvious I have less money and less 23 carot diamonds on my rings, and that I'm not a glamorous stay at home mom who wears $200.00 track suits to the gym and that I actually work for a living I like to take a minute and puff my chest out and stand up a little taller while ruffling up my feathers and behave exactly like a young spring chicken and remind them that AT LEAST I'M NOT FORTY BITCHES!!!!!!  Those fancy moms always feel a little knocked down when they realize how young and awesome I am.



Things have been changing since I turned thirty and I don't like it.  For example it's Saturday and normally at 6am I am sleeping in. But today I was so bothered I had to run right down stairs and stare at the blurry computer screen to tell you what just happened.  

Y'all I woke up covered in drool.  Not just a little drool, but a big long string of drool dangling out of my mouth that was so much drool I had to get THREE tissues to wipe myself all up and flip over the pillow.  


I drooled a little while I was pregnant. But then it went away.  For the last few nights though this has been a habit.  Is this a sign of my aging?  Am I becoming an old hen?

I know what is a sign of my aging.  The fact that I can't sleep an entire night straight without getting up to pee.  And there have been a few times now when I have to pee TWICE in one night.  

I'm kind of worried here.  Is thirty where it all falls apart?  I mean I can't even contain my drooling.  What does this say about the rest of my bodily fluids for the future. My chin hairs already grow faster.  I swear I only get a day and a half before needing to pluck again, and my leg hair is already growing back before I get out of the shower.  

I will look like this in no time if the chin hair doesn't slow down (and if anyone ever notices my mustache) (STOP LOOKING FOR IT, I CAN SEE YOU ALL LOOKING AT ME STOP IT)

I'm just thankful i wasn't cuddled up on my husband when the thirteen gallons of drool rolled out of my mouth.

The Rolling Stones lied, time isn't on my side, IT'S COMING AFTER ME FAST.  I mean what's next?  A giant mole on a my chin with it's very own three inch chin hair dangling crookedly out of it like my grandmother?  I swear, that mole will send me to the loony bin.  Now all day long I expect to find this on my face:

What about all of you, are there any signs that tell you, you are aging.  Since most of you are MUCH MUCH older then me (wink) I imagine you will have some fun advice on what I have to look forward to.  Be gentle, how much worse does it get from here?

While searching for a photo of a hair mold I came up with this….I guess this is my future.

He's still cute right?  So there is hope for me yet.

P.S. For those of you who know that Rolling Stones song I dare you to sing that verse and not have it stuck in your head all day like me.

I can't even think of a title when all that's in my head is old school Puff Daddy and Mase songs

What's been going on with Shannon lately?  Let's do a bulleted edition shall we? The last bullet is for sure worth reading the others for.  I promise.

*Just right now the office cat jumped on my desk.  He's covered in fleas.  Why is he covered in fleas?  Because he won't stop killing wild bunny rabbits.  We treated him for fleas but he still has them. I CANNOT STOP ITCHING.

* I have no Nutella right now.  The future seems dim when there is no Nutella involved.

* This morning I lost my eye glasses for three hours.  I found them in the bag that stores the breast pump.  Someone please tell me how in the hell my glasses got in the boobie bag?

* As far as injuries go I went ahead and burned my arm on the office fire place the other day. But just for fun while showering I went ahead and loofahed the burn mark and twenty minutes later looked down and saw that I had blood streaming down my arm and all over the place.  Five days later and my arm is still all nasty and bloody.  I'm still waiting on the bubblewrapped room.

* We won't even discuss what Coffee Slut mailed me. I will tell you she said it would last till Easter and right now it's not looking good.

* When my dog died I had a bottle of delicious bottle of Sweet Riesling in my house.  I drank the whole bottle while wandering up and down my street looking for my cats and lamenting on and on about my dead dog.  I never remember the name of this wine though, which is why I often tell people I'm going home to have a glass of, "dead dog wine."  I am convinced there are about 20 people in Reno who think there is a real wine out there with the label DEAD DOG WINE. 

* No other wine tastes as good as my dead dog wine and when you're having a really bad day and want a glass of wine Chardonnay just doesn't do the same thing as a Sweet Riesling.

* My son has been off track for three weeks now.  That means he's been at work with me for three weeks. I'm going totally insane.  INSANE.  

* The puppy is going to kill me dead.  He is the biggest menace ever.  Seriously someone please reassure me that this will get better, that he will stop digging in 4 feet of mud and then spinning circles on my favorite chair, the coffee table and the computer.  Tell me he will stop biting people and jumping on people and peeing and for the love of God please tell me he will stop eating every piece of tissue out of every trash in my house.

*I'm still freaked out and itching over the fleas.

* Codi ate 9 whole macaroni noodles last night.  For the first time EVER in four years.  He ate them without gagging or proclaiming that the macaroni will kill him on the spot and that it's burning his mouth alive from cheesy goodness.  He flat out refused to try the spaghetti noodle though.  Because OMGITHASSAUCEANDSAUCEISTHEDEVIL.

* I've been going rounds with all things electrical at work lately.  I'm at the point where if one more electronic breaks I'm going to go all Office Space on it, turn on "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta," and kill it with a baseball bat.

* Last week my son had a little friend come over.  They were playing outside.  I should have known better then to let three boys play outside. But I didn't.  So imagine my surprise when I walked outside, next to my kids playhouse and saw a GIANT HUMAN SHIT.  Yes, this little boy had shit in my yard.  A big shit.  Like eight inches long.  HE SHIT IN MY YARD.  I didn't even know what to do.  He tried to blame it on my puppy.  The puppy that was locked inside the house with me.  So if you want an indication of my week, there it is, someone elses son shit on the patio of my kids playhouse. That right there will tell you everything you need to know about my week!



While you may enjoy running around outside in the rain and digging in the mud, it might be wise of you to rethink your decision to cover your entire body in mud.  You see Charlie, when you do that you leave little foot prints everywhere.  That means I can see what you've done.  For example, when you go digging in the mud I can now tell that you:

*Ran into the house and back outside about 346 times.  I can tell that 3 of those times you had to make a full loop into the house, through the living room, into the entry, in the kitchen, around the kitchen island and back out the door.

*Jumped on my favorite lounge chair at least 7 times.

*Jumped on the back of my lounge chair.

*The arm rest of my lounge chair.

*Dropped your stuffed elephant behind my lounge chair, jumped behind there to get it, spun in circles, and came out from under my side table.

*Got onto my side table.

*Stepped in the tissue box.

* Stepped back on the side table.

*Jumped on the couch and spun in approximatly 4 circles.  

*Ran up and down the stairs enough to make sure there was at least 4 muddy paw prints on every single stair.

*Pulled the protective blanket off my lounge chair to be sure that all paw prints were on the expensive fabric and NOT on the protective blanket.

*Tried to see what was on the kitchen island (yes, paw prints stick to that)

*Tried to see what was on the dining room table IN THREE SPOTS.

*Ran down the stairs into the laundry room.

*Spun in more circles.

*Jumped up to look out the window.

*Ran in and out about 467 more times.

*Jumped on the coffee table & spun cirlces.

*Stepped on BOTH laptops & the iPad.

* Went up & down the stairs a few more times

*Jumped on the couch two more times just for fun.



All in one hour.  You've been one very busy puppy in one hour.  You should really think about this next time you choose to dig in the mud.  Had you stayed clean I wouldn't have known what you've been up to.  But now, now I'm onto you little puppy.  Next time it rains you will probably spend the entire day crated!


Your very angry mommy who now has to wash every item in her living room.

This one goes out to all my office working blogging friends

I want to be nosey for a while.  So please comment below and tell me:

1. When you leave work at the end of the day is your desk clean?  

2. Do you actually finish all of your work at the end of the day?

3. Do you make lists often?

4. If you make lists how do you make them? On paper, an ap, the computer?

5.  How do you schedule stuff? Do you do it on the computer, a desktop calendar or an appointment book?

6. If you leave the office and your desk is clean, is it clean because you stack what is left over into neat little piles or folders or is it clean because you actually finished your work?

7. If you have a job answering phones I'm just dying to know…Do you have a phone voice?


And as an added side note want to know how to make Shannon go into a total panic attack in 3 seconds flat?  Heres how:

Do the companies W-2's, 1099's and quarterly taxes.  

Mail them.

Open the mail box and see a GIANT package from the IRS

Completely panic.  

Total freak out that you messed up the companies taxes, or W-2's or SOME BIG GIANT CLUSTERFUCK OF A MESS.  Panic about telling your boss.  

Get heart palpitations.

Open the envelope.

Discover a very very LARGE stack of papers with instructions.

Realize you are fucked.

Look a little harder and realize they are the FREE 2012 1099's you ordered for this year so you wouldn't have to buy them at the store.

Feel like an asshole.

Slam the mailbox shut.

Get your shit together.


My kids are never going to grow up

A few months ago Rob came to me and told me he thought that at six years old Brandon was old enough to take a shower on his own.  I was appalled.  There was no way my sweet wittle baby was going to shower alone.  Who would wash his ears?  Who would make sure he washed behind his ears?  Who would be sure the dirty boy grubbiness was scrubbed out from under his chin.  I did the only logical thing possible and asked my friends on Facebook.  Every single person agreed with my husband. (I'm soooo giving you all dirty looks right now).  They even agreed that my sweet little four year old Codi was old enough to shower on his own.  UNACCEPTABLE PEOPLE!  That's my tiny little baby. Of course Codi loves it.  To add insult to injury he's started telling me he wants to put his own lotion and jammies on after the bath.  



I draw the line at taking away my lotion time!

There are so many other things I wonder about though.  For instance, every morning when I drop off Codi at daycare there is a girl there who leaves her 7 year old in the car while running her younger child into the daycare.  I don't get it.  What if he put the car in gear and ran someone over?  What if he was stolen? What if? A MILLION THINGS CAN HAPPEN (in my head it's more like a billion).  I don't understand this.  What age is appropriate to leave your kids alone in the car?  I can't actually imagine an age that is ever okay.  Thirteen? NO! Fifteen? Um, people still kidnap fifteen year olds.  Twenty?  Possibly if they have developed implanted GPS chips by then.  

Is there some day going to be a switch in my head that tells me it's okay to leave my kids in the car while I run into the bank? I see kids sitting alone in the car while their parents run into the store or Starbucks and I have heart palpitations for a whole day over it. Not to mention Lainey has officially put the fear of God in me about leaving kids in the car.

The same thing happens while dropping of Brandon at school.  Every day I park my car, get out and walk to line with Brandon.  I wait until his teacher comes out and walk to the door with him.  This seems normal.  Many moms do it.  BUT many moms do the opposite.  I see so many moms drive up to the curb (some stop in the middle of the street), push a button on their mini van so the door opens, let their kid out and drive away before their van door even closes.  It blows m mind.  How do they know their kid made it to class.  How do they know someone didn't grab their kid when they walk behind a bus and take them.  HOW DO THEY KNOW?  Which makes me wonder, what age is acceptable to let your kid walk to their class alone?  I can't actually imagine letting my kids walk to school alone at any point during elementary school.  Middle school?  Isn't that when gangs come around?  Isn't that when kids start getting beat up for their shoes?  And in high school…high school isn't that where all the little girls are going to jump on my little boy and try break his heart?  I honestly cannot wrap my mind around just letting them go all by themselves.  

What did Monica in Friends say to her son? "I'm going to love you so much no girl is ever going to be enough for you."  That's how I feel.  Only I don't think any situation is going to be okay.  I dread the day my son asks to go to the park alone with his friends. The park? Doesn't ever episode of Criminal Minds start out at the park?  

Brandon was slowly growing out of his car seat.  So I purchased him one of those convertible carseats that starts out as a five point harness booster seat that still buckles into the car.  I kept him in the five point harness until a week ago.  Everyone else has their kids in a normal booster that just uses a seat belt, or no booster at all.  Finally last week Brandon looked at me with those big huge eyes and asked if he could please have a booster seat like his friends I gave in.  I realize I can't have a 16 year old in a five point harness….I wish I could though.  I have a panic attack every time we drive now.  What if tomorrow we get in an accident and he dies because I took him out of the harness?  I take solace in the fact that I can probably at least convince him to stay in the booster seat for another 5 years.  With a lot of bribes.  Am I crazy though?  Is it normal to let an almost seven year old sit in the car without a booster?  Am I just neurotic and overly worried?

I am terrified of my children growing up.  I'm sick at the thought of them turning sixteen and driving off on their own.  Or having a sleep over.  I am horrified imagining the first time one of my boys ask to go to a concert alone.  Or to the mall with their friends.  

There are so many things that can go wrong. So many predators.  So many bad people and boogie men and enemies out there.  How is a mother ever supposed to feel okay letting her little boys go?  I imagine it's similar to how dad's feel about their daughters.  

I've devised a plan.  Basically when they turn about ten I'm going to find a reason to just go ahead and ground them for life.   That way there will be no sleep overs, trips away from me, unsupervised insanity.  

Am I alone?  Am I a minority?  Did I just offend hundreds of mini van driving moms who drop their kids off?  How do you feel?  At what age am I supposed to start letting go?  When am I supposed to let them grow up?  Perhaps around thirty five?  

This is all so hard!