I agree with her. 

I am absolutely a fan of books being made into movies, which may sound traitorous coming from a book nerd like myself.  But I’ve always had this wild imagination & love seeing the scenes I play over in my head come to life, breathing words into the screen.

Sometimes?  It is done beautifully.  Like Gone With the Wind & Vivienne Leigh, who epitomizes Scarlet O’Hara down to her pinky toes.  Or a few of the Harry Potter movies, where you almost stand up & yell “Expelliamus!” with him.  But then, there’s the Twilight movies.

Oh, dear God, the Twilight movies.  I refuse to be ashamed for my love of Edward Cullen & how I want to have R. Patz’s vampire babies, or that time I might have asked Doug to pretend to be a vampire while we were having maritals.  But they are done just…horribly.  Kristen Stewart kinda sucks at being awkward, which is weird because she is so innately awkward.  It’s like this awkward girl trying to awkwardly pretend to be awkward & it just fails all over the place.  & then there are the telepathic wherewolves, which are already a stretch when you’re devouring the books like any normal twelve-year-old girl, but to see them on screen?

Let’s just say I burst out laughing.  All out, gut-busting hooted until Laura & I were burrying our faces in our handbags.

So let’s just hope that The Hunger Games appeases my wild imagination.

 & once you’ve read the Hunger Games trilogy in record time, pick up Veronica Roth’s Divergent.  TRUST ME ON THIS.

’tis the season, my friends.  THE SEASON OF TACKY SWEATER PARTIES.

Starting in 2008 with my girlfriends from the-message-board-that-shall-not-be-named (Lord Boardamort? ::snort::), I host a Tacky Sweater/Cookie Exchange party at my house one night in December.  We call dibs on appetizers, I supply the Two Buck Chuck, & the house is lit with twinkle lights & laughter.  My sweater is pink with a fur collar, but that probably does not suprise you at this point.

The first year, it was so unseasonably warm that we threw open the windows & turned on the air conditioning.  Girls from Charlotte & Wilmington came & we uncorked numerous bottles of wine & laughed at how Pami mixed up baking powder with baking soda.  (note? the two are NOT the same)  Girls wore feather boas & for an entire year, I cleaned up green & red tinsel from Lacey & Amanda’s “belts.”

The next year brought typical December weather, so we turned on the fireplace & enjoyed feeling baby kicks inside big bellies as we dove into a homemade cake.

For year three, Harrison was our two-month-old guest of honor & he donned the ugliest velvet baby Santa suit I could dig up.  It was cooler that year, but both the fireplace & my postpartum hormones roared, so Harry & I were stripped to a tank top & onesie by 7pm.

Last year?  I am so sorry, my friends, for skipping last year.  It hurt me to do it but after such a loaded year & with my old office making so many demands at Christmas, I was in over my head.  Throughout the year, we mourned the absense of the sweater party & the 5,000 calories we all ingest that night, although it did make New Year’s resolutions a little easier to start on.

This year?  I vowed we would have a party.  Then life took over & a house went on the market & Sunday, December 4th appeared with no date set, no invitations delivered.  Until my friend texted me that we should have a wine & cookie night, just for the girls.  BOOM.  Sweater party was in action again!  This one?  It’s going to be much more low-key.  We’ll be starting a little earlier & there will probably be less craziness because we are all a wee bit older, but I cannot wait for a Girls Night Christmas celebration.

(they didnt ask me to provide a recipe, but these are so yummy & what I always make that I could not help myself!)

 Cake Chews, compliments of The Momma

Crust
1 box yellow Duncan Hines cake mix
1 stick butter (softened)
1 egg
*mix all three ingredients with wooden spoon & press into bottom of 9×13 pan (ungreased)

Topping
1 lb confectioner’s (aka powdered) sugar
8 0z cream cheese
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
*beat ingredients until creamy & pour over crust

Bake at 325 F for one hour.  They take 4-5 hours to cool completely.  Serve room temperature in small squares.

Remember to check out Duncan Hines’ website www.duncanhines.com to find some great recipes for your holiday get-together! I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective.

Not because the thoughts aren’t there.  They are there, spilling over madly because this blog is the capture of life & oh, life is being lived right now.

The up & down & GO GO GO! of life where I am sitting in conference rooms at 8:30am & shoving a sandwich in at my desk, prepping for the afternoon’s conference call.  A new assignment that has me flattered & overwhelmed, determined to show the boss that yes! I can do this!  The texting of insurance cards & jotting down ideas & making sure we have all the ingredients for dinner & no, Harrison, you cannot have a cookie for dinner.

The epic meltdown occurs & I’m standing there at the end of the day, shoes kicked off & button-down blouse still on & stirring boiling pasta.  I look at him & close my eyes, taking deep breaths & trying out that 1-2-3 magic but on myself.  He is maddeningly two & woke up this morning on a mission to test all the limits.  A piece of me wants to throw up my hands in frustration, but I look back down at him & all I can do is wrap him up in my arms.

He’s here tonight.  My friend Beth is not so lucky as her little boy Keegan went to Heaven today.  Keegan, not three weeks older than my own little boy.

I am undone.  Completely raw for the day in my stocking feet & a little boy who does not understand why his momma is hugging him instead of using the usual exasperated tones at dinnertime.

I put him in bed & pull the red & aqua cover to his chin & I think that I cannot handle Chicka Chicka Boom Boom one more time, but then I remember the momma’s who never got to read it, or who won’t get to read it.  I wonder if it would be silly to ask God to maybe read Keegan Chicka Chicka Boom Boom one night, just to let him know we’re thinking of his momma’s heart?  & so I pick up that board book, starting to show signs of wear after only a few months because it is loved so.

& my heart, showing signs of wear because it has loved so.

So yes, life is spilling over & I am left breathless & awkward in it’s path.

Thank you for your sweet congratulations yesterday!  You sure know how to make a girl blush & I’m just so sorry I haven’t been able to respond personally to everyone.

Thank you for following me over there, reading my words, & still hanging out with me here.  I told the folks on Babble that my readers e-friends were the best & funniest & most loyal that you could ever find, & HOT DAMN, did y’all prove me right.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for sticking up for me & basically delivering the most epic troll beat-down I have seen in years.  You basically rolled in the STFU Truck while I was supporting a buddy of mine’s shop opening, & I appreciate you stepping in my absence.

(Also?  Thank you for keeping it classy & letting her look like the fool.)

As you may have seen on the Twitters, I discovered that the hurtful words were coming from a woman I previously thought as a friend.  I suppose I could spin it into a TRUST NOBODY! conspiracy theory about meeting friends on the interwebs, but the truth of it all is that no matter what parenting choices you make, someone will disagree.  Breast versus bottle, BabyWise vs Attachment Parenting, working mom versus stay at home mom.  We’ve all seen the battles but we never suspect our friends having cruel thoughts about us, always hidden behind a smile or sweet Facebook note. 

So my thoughts on the whole situation boil down to friendship, not parenting – as someone’s friend, you have the responsibility of protecting their heart.  Plain & simple.  If you think there is an outrageous wrong happening, then by all means speak up!  But do it TO THEIR FACE, with honesty out on the table.  If you must hide your thoughts behind anonymity & gossip, then it is probably not worth speaking.  & if you feel that negatively towards a “friend?”   You disagree so strongly with them?  It probably means the friendship ain’t worth it, so you cut your losses & find someone that you love unconditionally.

The good news is that in these days, most “friendships” can be desolved by defriending on Facebook. ::snort::

By the way, did I say THANK YOU enough for all the awesomeness yesterday?

Real friends dress up in cocktail dresses & fascinators, then go buy hot dogs on the streets of New York City.

The silence is deafening & I begin to resent the silence, to grow weary of it & imagine that He must grow weary of my pleas.  My heart puts conditional love on an unconditional promise & I wonder, have I been wrong all along?

oh, ye of little faith.

& then news comes, the kind of wonderful news that moves mountains & shakes the soul & I hear God whisper, “See?”  & after all these years, I know.  I know that my prayers did not fall upon deaf ears, that I did not plead in vain, & that miracles do happen.  I let the tears & thankfulness fall free.

Back when I first started planning Harrison’s second birthday party (you know, the day after his first birthday party), there was nothing greater in his heart than Curious George.  Of course, Lightning McQueen & Simba came later, but the little curious monkey was our go-to for entertainment in both books & film for many months.  So it only made sense for Curious George to be the inspiration for his birthday party.  Red & yellow with splashes of aqua, mostly digging on monkeys & bananas rather than actually splashing George’s face everywhere.

Last year, I spent hours in the kitchen hand-making dips & pies when the Pillsbury sugar cookies were the first to disappear off the table.  This year, I decided to cater to the toddlers by ordering $5.00 pizzas from Little Caesar’s & filling a bowl with goldfish.  Harrison’s smallest guests sipped on watered-down apple juice while the parents enjoyed water.  & of course, I did the ever-popular pigs n’ blankets – best part of the story was when I asked a grocery store worker where he kept his “little weiners.”  That was awkward.

Cupcake toppers from the Etsy seller, ClassyAndSimple.  As Harrison’s best gal has a serious peanut allergy, the cupcakes needed to be made from home.  I mixed up a box yellow cake, then The Momma helped decorate them with cream cheese icing & sugar sprinkles.  There is something wonderfully old school about homemade baked goods at a party, you know?

I’ve got a thing for paper lanterns.  They just give a little “pop” to the decor, so we hung them from tree branches.

A lot of the details were handmade, either by me or people with far more talent.  Like Erika from Bird E. Studios, who made the gorgeous pennant that will now go in Harry’s room.  I made the rag wreath at night while we watched Mad Men & Vampire Diaries (I have a rather eclectic taste in entertainment), & sewed the poms to a red tablecloth on Thursday evening, along with whipping up the red checked backdrop for our “photo booth.”

This is a typical family photo with a two-year-old.

I purchased six yards of cotton gingham cloth, on sale for $1.97 per yard, then cut it in half & stitched the two halves together.  I didn’t worry about hemming on the edges, but did fold over the top with a quick stitch to fit a rod or ribbon through that would hold it to the fence.

Harrison had a WONDERFUL time & was a fantastic host.   Did I mention that he did not want to wear a shirt?  Within thirty minutes of the party starting, Harry was shirtless & his friend Holden was dancing on the table.  So basically, the party was amazing.

p.s. be sure to take a favor before you leave!

This year, I met my friends in the brisk fall air with excitement & happiness.  We laughed & sipped coffee while we waited for the walk to begin, while very sweet husbands pumped stroller tires for those of us that oops! had flats.  (okay, I was the only one)

Amy & I set out with our matching Bumbleride strollers, chatting about selling homes & the exhaustion of motherhood.   I’ve known Amy for almost ten years now, back when boys & booze were our topics.  Funny how things change.

Harry & Charlotte were antsy after the walk, so we unleashed them on the playground.

(side note:  a girl looked over & said, “Are you Beth Anne?” & then she said my maiden name & I almost fell over, but she was a girl I knew in middle school.  That’s over 15 years ago & there we were, standing on a playground with our kids.  It’s nuts living in your hometown, even if your hometown is one of the biggest cities in the state.)

& then…Harrison was done.

When the kid is done, he is done.

So I took him home, tucked him in bed for a nap & began editing pictures.  It had been a fantastic morning of friendship & motherhood & happiness.  I looked to my right at the bottom desk drawer & the notebooks it held.  Notebooks from last year, journals from the beginnings & the lows & the hospital.  Without a hesitation of doubt, I gathered them up & walked them to the trash cans outside.  I do not want those words anymore, or those feelings.  Those notebooks, full of angry words & sketches made when I was hurting — I feel no urge to keep them.

I want to be like Harrison & be done.

& simply be thankful for the journey they gave me.

No, we don’t have naked pillow fights & I’ve never kissed a girl.  I”m hetero all the way.  But my girls?  They are essential to my existance & sanity.   I’ve always had a solid group of girlfriends surrounding me, from preschool into motherhood. 

I’ve even been known to fly across the country to spend time with my bosom buddies.

photo by dan fields for hostess with the mostess. san diego, 2011.

Sometimes that means a lunch date over chicken salad & cupcakes with my sweet Suzanne.  Sometimes it’s calling Brandy on Saturday morning when we’re both losing our minds & figuring it’s best to lose it completely together, so we saddle up to the park.  & sometimes it means crowding into Lala’s house while a hurricane blows outside, making homemade salsa & pouring glasses of sangria.

 I’ve been accused of spending too much time with my friends.  Of being too attached.  BUMP THAT, I say.  Because time with my girlfriends is what makes my heart feel feminine again in a household of testosterone.  In our comisseration of the day’s stresses, we remind each other to count blessings.   My girlfriends show me that I am loved for my heart, not just my ability to wipe runny noses or make a mean meatloaf.  They inspire me to be funny, to laugh, to care outside of my own little family, where I can get so wrapped up in the selfishness of our days.

photo by emilee beth. march of dimes, 2011.

What say you, blog readers?  Are you a lesbian from the waist up?

________________________________________

Girlfriend Sangria
1 (750ml) bottle dry white wine, like Chardonnay
1 6oz can frozen lemonade concentrate
1/2 cup light rum (we do a full cup!)
1/2 triple sec
1 15.25 oz can of pineapple tidbits packed in juices
1 large Granny Smith apple, cut into chunks
Orange or lime slices, or anything you’d like to use as a garnish (cherries, strawberries, etc)
2 cups of lemon lime soda

Last year, I went into BlogHer all, “I AM GOING TO BE THE NEXT DOOCE!  BRING ME VENDORS!  INTRODUCE ME TO FAMOUS PEOPLE FROM THE INTERNETS!”  It’s kind of embarassing to admit that, but it’s also totally true for 90% of BlogHer goers, so we might as well get it all out there like a filet of beef.

mmm, beef.  They do not serve enough of that in California.

This year, I went for me.  & in the words of some smart lady in some session I sat on the floor in the back for, she said “I’m not going to change my story for you.  I AM GOOD WITH ME.”   I almost stood up & started the Freddie Prinze, Jr.  slow clap.

But there’s a point right there that diverts from ME ME ME & goes straight to the heart of the matter – my writing & the cool folks that read it.  So thank you, for letting me figure out my shit on the internet.  Thank you for letting me say “shit” & then talk about Jesus & then describe toddler diarrhea.  Thank you for giving me the confidence to share my story, no matter what that story may be.  It might be triumph, it might be me falling flat on my face (quite literally at times).  Thanks for letting that story grow & change & shift gears….& kudos for shifting gears along with me.

I’m happy to be me & I’m comfortable where I am.

It’s kind of weird that a blogging conference brought that sucker home rather than weekly confession or my therapist, but I’ll take it either way.

Highlights from BlogHer ’11

• “So there’s that.”  – basically the catch-phrase of the week
• Dancing with Maegan & Morgan.  While wearing a Mexican wrestling mask.
• That moment where Jill from Scary Mommy & I didn’t recognize each other & everyone around us thought it was a joke.  They were laughing, we were still trying to figure out just how we knew each other, because golly, I just can’t place you.
• Sitting on our room balcony, listening to city sounds & writing, writing, writing.
• The ah-mazing weather.  I kept having to hang out with new people every hour just so I could keep talking about the weather without getting kicked in the shins.
• My hair in the ah-mazing weather.
• Snuggling with Rici on the Temperpedic sample bed while the lady reminded us 50 times that others were waiting & there was a contest to register for.  Okay, but we’re snuggling.  Please leave us alone.
• The discovery of cake pops, which are the new cuppycakes.
• Smurf dance-off with Jill from Baby Rabies.

Not a highlight from Blogher 2011?  Catching a red-eye & sitting in my office not 30 minutes after my plane landed.  I may like me, but I still make dumb ass decisions.

It’s like we gave birth to a bottle of pinot.