Housekeeping

I ran into the stunningly beautiful and immensely talented author, Rachel Keener, at the pool the other day. What? You don't frequent pools where gorgeous published authors hang out? Pity you! Not only has Rachel written two excellent novels (that you should buy right now), but she also happens to be one of the nicest people, as evidenced by what she said to me:

"I thought of you the other day. You should write a story for this."

I ignore most advice, but when someone who does what I would like to do (and does it well) tells me something, I tend to listen. So I'm spending the bulk of my writing time over the next few weeks writing a story about sin. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

This doesn't mean that SFC won't have new content. I wrote a story for a local contest this spring, and will be trotting it out in a series of posts for your reading enjoyment. It's different - no poop or possums or underwear jokes - but I hope you'll like it all the same.

Watch for the first installment this Monday.

Additionally, I'm looking for some guest posters for August. I don't care if you have a blog, don't have a blog, write all the time or have never written more than an email, everyone has a story to tell. I want to hear yours! If you're interested, email me. *UPDATE: Wow! Thank you for the response! I've filled the week with some amazing guest writers. You are all in for a treat! If you'd still like to guest, I'd love to have you some other time. Just drop me an email and we'll work it out.*

I'm having a hard time coming up with a closing for this insanely boring post. 'Thanks for reading!' is super lame, as it 'TTYL!' and 'Later, Gaters!'. Instead, I'll leave you with this video of Marquese "Nonstop" Scott, which you may not have seen if you live under a rock, or someplace like Idaho. (I'm kidding! I love Idaho! Some of my best friends are Idahoan!) My kids (and me, and Sean, and maybe Shutup Roxy) are just entranced by this guy, and we've watched this particular video three or four thousand times. Enjoy!

Remembering Twenty-Five

My youngest brother is getting married this fall to a lovely young woman. Aside from being happy and excited for them, I am happy and excited that the wedding will be in an exotic destination, one that requires that I dig out my expired passport and have it renewed.

I filled out the forms, and opened the passport to take a look at 25 year old me.

My first thought was, 'Wow, my hair looked great', followed by, 'Wow, I was so stupid'.

I had a great job and a great husband and an uncomplicated life and yet, I managed to get almost nothing right. Except the hair.

I did my job well, but not as well as I could have. I loved my husband, but not as well as I could have. I smoked a pack of cigarettes a day and never ate and exercised less than that. I took smooth skin for granted and tanned with abandon.

Youth is wasted on the young. True that.

I didn't know shit, except that I didn't know shit. I was incredibly self conscious and scared and unsure. I pretended to know more than I did and, looking back, I wonder if I fooled anyone but myself.

I know better now. Maybe 'know' isn't the right word; maybe it's that I understand more now. I understand what love is, and what loss is. I understand what a gift my health is. I understand that wrinkles and meat aprons and spider veins aren't fading youth, but the hard earned hallmarks of simply living life. I find contentment in contentment, fulfillment in a job well done, love in butterfly kisses from small children.

I could give me at twenty-five all sorts of wonderful advice - Stop smoking. Start running. Be kind. Love yourself. But those are all lessons that can only be learned by living. By failing and crying about it and picking yourself up and moving on. By losing. By looking in the mirror one day and seeing gray hair and saggy skin and saying 'oh, well' instead of 'oh, no'.

I wouldn't trade forty for twenty-five, not for the world.

Except for the hair. I'd definitely take the hair.

This Post Brought to You By...

"Why don't companies ever ask me to do a product review of their stupid product?" I asked my friend, K-.

"Maybe because you refer to them as stupid?"

Maybe.

You can't read too many blogs before running into one who's shilling something, in return for free shit. I can dig that. I mean, do I really think that you believe Cool Whip is bringing your family together, or that Special K helped you repair the damaged relationship with your Daddy? No, but I can appreciate a blogger willing to credit Jiffy Lube with saving the life of their child in order to get free oil changes for life.

Because, let's face it - we all love free shit.

Crappy continental breakfast, with weak coffee and stale danish? I'll eat it, IT'S FREE! Those gross little mints in the dish at the restaurant register, that every little kid in the joint has had their hands in (no doubt after picking their nose, or butt, or both)? Yummy and FREE! Hotel soaps, lotions, shower caps? Are you kidding? Load me up with those bitches! I could create an entire Pinterest board of crafts I could have made with all the shower caps I've taken from hotels.

But SFC isn't that kind of blog. If it were, I can think of a few companies who might be interested in making me a deal -

Splenda & Coffeemate: My love of these two is well documented. Coffee (which I drink a lot of, by the way) is just not complete without the mouth coating, chemical awesomeness of this duo. My endorsement - "Splenda and Coffeemate: Two awesome fucking chemicals, awesome together."

Always Maxi Pads with wings: I just had dinner with a friend who commented, "What grown woman wears these?". That would be some perimenopausal woman whose pants look like a goddamn murder scene every time she goes to the bathroom. My endorsement - "Always with Wings: Ginormous pads for those times when your drawers are an episode of CSI: My Panties."

Monistat Anti-Chafing Gel: WHOA WHOA WHOA, you may be saying. First, period talk and now freaking Monistat? When did this become The Vagina Monologues? Settle down, folks. I use this stuff on MY FACE. It's actually not crotch cream at all, despite the name. And the silicone base makes it the perfect, inexpensive make-up primer. It's a not so secret secret, and once you get over the idea of smearing something from Monistat on your face, it is great stuff. My endorsement - "Monistat Anti-Chafing Gel: Not your mama's vag cream!"

I expect these companies, and many others, will be contacting me shortly, begging me to review their products. Sorry, folks, it's not that kind of blog.

But you can still send the free stuff.

The Little Bed

I can not remember the last night that a child did not end up sleeping in our room. It can best be measured in years, that I know.

And on most all of the nights, with the exception of the ones where I become a mommy sandwich in between two wiggly, insanely hot little ones - I love it.

By the time Henry came into the picture, Katie was in her room all the time, but three year old Julia would still worm her way into our bed. With a room sharing newborn and frequent night nursing, we couldn't have her up in the bed.

That's when we got The Little Bed. A twin air mattress, it just fits under our bed when inflated, with a minor amount of tugging and shoving.

It is a reward.
If you are a good listener, you can sleep in The Little Bed.
It is a consolation.
Your sister's on a sleepover, you can sleep in The Little Bed.
It is a comfort.
She's not feeling well, let her sleep on The Little Bed.

It is used by both girls as they need it, as we like it. It's too small and they are too big to share it now, and thunderstorms find us all together - Katie in the recliner, Sean, Henry and me in the big bed,and Julia and Shutup Roxy in The Little Bed.

I lay there awake, listening to the night noises of people and animal, soft shifts and sighs. These children of mine, who radiate heat like little woodstoves as they sleep, causing me to kick a leg out from under the covers and will myself out of bed to turn on the fan. I lay there, thinking about the fan and listening.

I think everyone is exactly where they're supposed to be.