OK, so if you know me in real life, you know I CAN’T STAND LADY GAGA! And yes, that requires all caps and an exclamation point. I think she is basically an unoriginal hack who just does crazy things to be crazy. And it annoys me because she’s actually quite a good vocalist and I really don’t understand why she has all these gimmicks. Annoying!
Anywho….
I am willing to make an exception for “Born This Way.” Even though it does sound a lot like “Express Yourself” by Madonna. Because singing this song at the top of my lungs with Lucy is one of my new favorite pastimes. Luckily, there is a great Glee version so I don’t have to feel like I’m giving in to the Gaga Machine.
If I had a t-shirt in high school with something on it that I was insecure about, it would be “Space Camp Geek.” I was teased mercilessly about my love of all things NASA (and nerd-related in general), but now? Now I not only embrace my dorkiness, but love it! It’s one of my favorite things about myself. I was born this way, and this way is totally badass!
[Sidenote: Have you all been watching Glee lately? They are KILLING it! This last episode featured music from Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album and holy crap…so good.]
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Buy and send mother’s day cards to all the great grandparents; wrap mother’s day gifts for all the moms; prepare for marketing meeting; put together documents for large government proposal; grocery store for milk; figure out what to make for dinner; buy new pump parts for the ones the cleaning people threw in the trash on accident at the office; order photos to send to family who refuse to use email or Facebook; figure out insurance questions for Trent; purchase birthday present for boy in Lucy’s class (Spiderman action figure?); buy gift for Lucy’s teacher’s wedding shower; bake cupcakes for Teacher Appreciation Week; return emails; set up lunch reservations for important client meeting; edit video of Tate eating cereal for the first time; work out; BREATHE; clean out back playroom; do laundry; watch backlog of programs on the DVR; figure out how to explain Osama bin Laden to Lucy; eat; buy flowers for back deck; update company website; put together document explaining “what I do” for company vice president; drink 6 glasses of water; call Big Brothers Big Sisters to figure out fundraising plans; find “caramel” colored dance tights for Lucy’s costume; locate sanity; drink bucket of wine.
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Have I mentioned how lucky I am lately? Because, seriously kids, I am. And I don’t say it/think it/feel it enough.
Have I told you how a few weeks back five of the most spectacular friends a girl could ask for threw me and Tate a baby shower. Did I deserve it? Probably not, but lordy, these ladies made me feel so wonderful and special and I haven’t thanked them enough.
Have I said how my in-laws are taking us to Disney World for Lucy’s birthday? (Shhhh, it’s a surprise!) And how they are letting me act like I’m the one planning all of it and spending a gazillion dollars on tickets and princess dinners and makeovers and everything else that comes with one of these ridiculous trips even though I have not planned a single minute of it? Well, I should have, because I couldn’t be luckier in the in-law department. For reals.
{Dramatic reenactment of how much Lu will freak when we tell her}
Have I divulged how my office lets me to go Tate’s daycare once a day and feed him? I cannot express how much this means to me, to see my little pirate everyday and not have to go through the hassle of pumping at the office. I am so fortunate to work where I do with the people I do.
Lately I’ve been feeling like a dirty penny. Not shiny or lucky. But I just need to look a bit closer, because when I focus on it, I realize that no one on earth has more opportunities for happiness than me. Lucky, lucky girl.
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I know, I know…Britney Spears isn’t exactly ground breaking music. But I don’t care. Sometimes dancing is the cure for what ails, so today I’m choosing to dance. Poorly. My officemates are understandably excited about this development.
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About two years ago I decided I wanted a little sister. Not in the same way that Lu wants a little sister (which she is never getting, sorry kid), but through the ever awesome organization Big Brothers Big Sisters of Kansas City. I couldn’t quite tell you why or how or what I was thinking with the kid and the job and the crazy busy life I lead, but I set my mind, and no one was going to change it. The process is somewhat lengthy, from applying for the program, to being evaluated, to finding a match. I decided I wanted to mentor someone that was a part of the Kauffman Scholars program, which you can read about here. Basically, these kids join the program in elementary school and if they keep up their grades, participate in extracurriculars and Kauffman Foundation events, when they graduate from high school the Foundation will pay for them to go to college anywhere they choose. The students are all low-income from Kansas City, Kansas or Kansas City, Missouri, and all are first generation college students. And they are awesome. So, so awesome.
The most awesome of them all (in my opinion of course, which is all that matters here anyway) is my little sis. She is the best, such a sweet, fun girl who teases me about my old age and my tendency to get lost whenever we go anywhere. My role in her life is to provide her with a resource that can answer any questions about college, SATs, tuition, life, et cetera. I’m basically supposed to provide her with another adult in her life who can support her ambitions and help her to achieve. Trust me, it’s an easy job, since she is extremely driven and very, very smart.
One thing my girl and I don’t have in common, however, is our musical taste. Save some Britney Spears here and there, I’m mostly listening to alt rock or NPR in my car, so whenever I pick her up, I immediately change the station to find something more to her liking. And as she is a 16 year old girl, she loves the Biebs.
Now, I can’t lie, the Biebs is super-catchy. And I’m willing to overlook the fact that he looks like a lady because we try not to discriminate here at Crazybananas. (And also because I remember my dad and I were talking about music once when I was a teen, and I mentioned the omg-ishness of Justin Timberlake and he said, “That kid sounds like a girl” and I promptly knew my dad was a total lame-o.) So when my girl said the one thing she wanted me to do with her was take her to Justin Bieber’s movie, I told her I’d suffer through it for her.
Fast-forward to the day of the movie, a somewhat normal spring-like day in Kansas City. It was around 55 degrees and sunny all day, so when Trent got home to stay with the kids while I went to get my girl, I didn’t think much of his warning that the roads were a little slick. It had just started rain/sleeting, but it didn’t seem like any big deal.
I got on the highway and within 5 minutes I was in a total whiteout. There was snow coming from every direction and the winds were threatening to push my car right off the road. At first I wasn’t too worried, but I quickly realized this was a pretty serious storm, as car after car slid in to ditches and embankments. I was driving a good 40 mph under the speed limit…sometimes even slower, just hoping I would make it to my girl’s house alive.
After a 2 hour drive (the trip usually takes about 20 minutes), I arrived at her house, thanking god I wasn’t killed. Because, seriously, killed because I was going to a movie about Justin Bieber? What would my tombstone say? My effigy would read, “Idiot. Lover of the Biebs.” The whole time I wanted to tweet that if I died due to Justin Bieber, I would never live it down. But I didn’t, mostly because I seriously thought I was going to get into an accident and tweeting that would just be super bad karma. Also, I didn’t want my followers to know I was actually going to the Biebs’ movie. Because, dudes, that’s totally embarrassing.
In case you were wondering, we did end up going to the movie, trudging through the snow to the theater, where we were the only two in attendance. In 3D glasses. Awesome.
And that, my friends, is how Justin Bieber almost killed me.
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