What Am I Doing Now?

If you read my Pour Your Heart Out yesterday, you know that I used to be afraid to take chances. The fear of failure drove me crazy.


But, I got over it. Because I realized that I might as well try something, that I'm not losing anything.


And at the end of that post, I told you that I actually got a job this week that I would be telling you about soon. I started yesterday, but since I wasn't sure when or how it would go, I waited to announce anything.


Though, if you follow me on facebook or twitter, you already saw!


I'm now writing for Babble.com's Celebrity Parenting blog: Famecrawler. While I will obviously still continue with this blog(my first and true bloggy love), I will also be blogging over there.


Everything will stay the same here, no worries. What I will blog about over there is very different from what I blog about here. But, it's all still ME. My voice.


I hope that you will check out some of my posts over there. Mine are listed by my twitter name, Shellthings. Don't feel obligated to comment, but I'd love some visitors. I will occasionally be tweeting or fb'ing these posts out, but I promise not to get all spammy on you.


Here are some of the posts that I did yesterday, in case you are curious:

VS Fashion Show: What if "Regular" Moms Were the Models?
Victoria Secret Fashion Show: How Did Mom Adriana Lima Lose the Baby Weight?
Happy 5th Birthday to Violet Affleck
How Do You Spell Hanukkah Anyway?
Top Chef All Stars Premiere
America's Next Top Model Winner: Deserved?

Thanks to everyone who saw some of these on twitter or fb yesterday and was so supportive! And don't forget: I'm well aware that spectacular failure is still an option. But, why not try?

I'm Guilty

Here are my crimes:

*Reading all the super-nice comments from yesterday about what I wonderful teacher I was when really, I was so strict that a lot of my students probably didn't like me very much. I might have made a difference in some of my students' lives, but I was far from perfect.


*Letting my roots get scary and then mocking the girl at the salon who asked "What do you want done to them?" when I called for an appointment to have my roots done.


*Recording two shows at once on the dvr that Hubs had no interest in watching, so that he had to go into the bedroom to watch tv instead of being able to watch on the "big tv." And then laughing at him when he threw the remote in disgust.


*Watching too much tv. Fall shows are back!


*Falling asleep at an hour that allows me to wake up feeling rested, but makes me feel like a preschooler when I tell someone just how early that is.


*Skipping the gym this week. Even though I just started going last week.


*Not paying the crazy amount for express shipping for my brother's wedding present, even though that means that it might not get there until they are on their honeymoon, instead of before the wedding.


*Getting annoyed with my oldest's kindergarten teacher. Especially because I tend to get up on my former-teacher soapbox and talk about how teachers deserve a chance and that we should cut them some slack. I'm still annoyed.


*Not writing the next part of my steamy story from my crazy early twenties.  Oh, and not really thinking that it was that steamy until after reading your comments.

*Not feeling the slightest bit guilty about leaving my kids with my husband for the entire weekend so that I can go to Type A Mom.


*Not actually being a Type A Mom, but going to the conference anyway. Thinking the jeans and yoga pants I packed will probably give me away.


*Hoping that mil can't help Hubs out with the kids during my weekend away so that he can see what it's like to be me.


Completely guilty. Thinking I should be punished. Maybe there's a mom-prison somewhere. On a tropical island. With lots of naps. And drinks. And no laundry to do. And wi-fi.


Oh yes, send me there.


What have you done? Tell me why you deserve to go to that island escape mom-prison with me.



Psssst..... Please check out the Friends You Love blog for voting on the World's Greatest BFF and a Twitter Party announcement! Oh, and I hope you have been watching for the scavenger hunt clues this week!

Because You Are Important

Editing this to say that it's not that I'm being beat up emotionally right now, it's more that I have seen some meanness around, and it hurts my heart to see it happen to anyone. So, this is for any of you who feel like you're being attacked right now. I want to try to balance out some of the meanness out there by telling you that you are important. I didn't mean this to be a waaaaaah poor-me post, so please don't take it like that.




I didn't used to get this blogging thing.


Why the heck does someone blog?


I mean, isn't it weird to talk about your life to people you don't know?


But, then, I got it.


Blog friends are real.


They listen. They laugh with you and cry with you.


They rally in support of a fellow blogger's difficult time, like with Mission Monkey.


If you are very lucky, you have friends like this in real life, too. I have Angie at In My Own Little Corner, whom I've known since we were four. She gets me and lets me be me without judging.


But, really, she's been the only one in real life to do so. Including my family. Who is here right now visiting.


But, in blog land? I can't even begin to list the friends I have made here. Who listen and care and forgive me for having a bad day or a busy week. I suck as a blog visitor this week. New around here? That's not like me.


I could make a long list of those of you whom I feel so close to. And some new friends that I already feel such a connection to. But, I worry that it would take me all day to list all of you and that I might accidentally leave someone off the list.  And I would feel bad about that forever.


But, you know who you are. And yes, I'm talking to you.


I know I'm being really emotional and probably slightly crazy right now. Hubs would probably tell me that I'm being gay, because he's all politically correct like that.


Maybe it's PMS. I think I have PMS 3 weeks out of every month.


Or maybe it's just that I've seen some ugliness recently- in the blog world and irl, where people are tearing each other down. And blowing people off, saying they aren't important.


But, you are important.


We will return you to your regularly-scheduled sarcastic and light-hearted Shell tomorrow. This has been a test of the emergency emotional breakdown system.

An Island Girl

For 6 months, when people asked me where I lived, I was able to say, "On the island."


I loved that.


I've always been such a beach girl. Not really sure how that happened, since I grew up in Pittsburgh.


But, put me on the sand and let me see those waves crashing in and time slows down for me.


I relax.


We spent our first night in our new house last night and it was LOUD.


You would probably laugh at me for saying that if you came to my neighborhood. We live far out from "town."


And I put town in quotes because it's a small town.


It's a quiet family neighborhood.


But, there are people around. Dogs bark. Child yell(who aren't mine). Cars drive past. There's no ocean breeze.


I heard the boys were awake and I went up to check on them. Bear was standing at his window and asked me, "Where did it go, Mommy?  The ocean. Where is it?"


Ahhh, buddy, I know, I know.


I never thought we'd get to live right on the beach, so I am going to stop whining and just be glad that we were able to for a little while....

But, I still miss it.

Today is the last day of the semi-final round for the Baby Idol contest. The top 25 move on to the finals tomorrow. One vote per computer every 24 hours. Please help me and vote for Mason HERE.

Movin', Movin', Movin'

No, not my blog. It's staying right here. But, my family. We're moving. Again. Even though we just moved here in November. But, before I get to that story, I just wanted to give a shout out to Heather and Melissa at:





They have super-affordable designs. And by affordable, I mean that their highest priced package right now is only $30. How awesome is that! They didn't do my design(mine is sort of a mish-mash of various people helping me with different things), but Heather is a great blog friend who doesn't get annoyed with me when I ask her blog questions! They did do a great job with my friend Tammy's blog.

Have you met Tammy?

You have to watch "How I Met Your Mother" and say this the same way that Barney says "Have you met Ted?"

Have you met Tammy?

Anyway, if you are looking for a new design for your blog, check them out! And you should follow Tammy because she's good people.

*****

And now, to my moving story.

 

We moved from Pittsburgh to North Carolina back in November.

For Hubs, this is a return to his hometown(or close enough to count) and a return for me, as I lived here for seven years.

We knew this fall that we were going to have to move and that we were going to have to do it quickly.  I'm a big believer in doing what is best for my family, so I was okay with the move, even though it meant moving away from most of my family and some great friends.

But, Hubs wanted to make sure that I was not only okay with it, but happy with the move.

And so, he asked how I felt about living right on the beach. How would you feel if this were our view, Shell? Would that make it any easier?

Ooooh, does he know how to push my buttons. I love the beach. The calmness of it. The air. Ahhhhhh.

 

I knew we would be moving near the beach- since anywhere in this area, you wouldn't be too far from it.  But, I never dreamed we would be right on the beach.

 

Let me just tell you that Hubs is not a salesman by accident. He dreams big and is able to talk people into his vision(this would be how he convinced me to marry him.....)

 

So, his grand idea was to contact someone who owns a vacation home on the beach. And to see if maybe they would rather have their home be occupied for the duration of the off-season, instead of only maybe being able to rent it out for a week or two during those six months.

 

And to offer them a ridiculously low amount to stay in their house.

 

And, it worked. I'm taking this as a lesson that it never hurts to ask.

We were able to move quickly, knowing that we could throw most of our stuff in storage and only bring clothes and toys in the house with us and get settled in really quickly.

We've throughly enjoyed this time. As long as it's not freezing cold outside, we go on the beach. It's never really crowded. Sometimes even completely deserted. Other times, like this weekend with its fabulous weather, there are lots of peole around, but never crazy-crowded.

 

At night, we often sleep with the doors that face the ocean open, so that we can hear the waves crashing.

I'll miss it here. Because, while Hubs is a fabulous salesman, even he can't convince the owners to let us stay here during the height of the tourist season, when they could make more off of one week from the tourists than they would from us in a whole month.

 

And so, we are moving at the end of April.

 

Not far- just across the bridge, off the island. We'll only be about 5-10 minutes away from here. Hubs has once again used his fabulous salesman skills to find a house for us that I absolutely love.

But, I'll miss being right here on the beach. It's been such a wonderful experience.

So, for the next month or so, if I'm a little scarce in bloggyland on the weekends, it's because we are trying to make the most of our last few weeks here on the beach as a family.

But, um, P.S. one good trade-off is that we are leaving our spotty internet behind here on the island, so I won't have to do something like ask a friend to post something on my blog for me...and wind up with another post like last night's.....Love ya, Supah!

The Reunion Pic: Thank God for Growing Up and Getting Better With Age

In case you missed this post, where I was crazy-happy about the pic in my alumni magazine from my college 10-year class reunion, I'll just tell you that I was thrilled that I actually looked cute.

College me= AWKWARD

Me now= FABULOUS

Okay, okay, I wouldn't go that far. But, I do look much better than I did back then. And have ten tons more confidence. Maybe too much. ;)

Since some of you asked, I thought I'd share it with you. Really, people asked me to show the pic. Check the comments from that post if you don't believe me. I'm not just making stuff up as an excuse to show you one of the few good pics of me in existence.

Here's the whole class shot: If you happen to know what college this is or if by some freak fluke, you actually attended this college and were in my class, I'll die laughing at what a small world it is, since I went to a tiny private college.

The scanned copy doesn't quite capture my cuteness, since my right arm sort of blends in with my sweater here, and it's a little blurry, but I'm okay with that, since the actual pic floating around out there is better.

So, there it is. I can look back and remember fondly my carefree college-days that didn't seem care-free at the time but what the hell did I know back then: the safe little bubble I lived in, where there weren't really any real problems or responsibilities. Where getting up early meant having an 8am class. Where friends were always right there, either down the hall or across the quad.

But, I can say that I don't look back with regret and wish I looked like I did back then or was the person I was back then again.

Nope, I'll take the confident, fabulous woman I have turned into.

Disclaimer: you have to understand the extent of my college-days awkwardness and insecurity to be able to understand that I'm really not that full of myself now. For those of you who are entering Dumb Mom's Blog Dawg contest, let me just tell you that if I submitted a college pic, I'd win, hands down. So more than a celebration of fabulousness, it's a celebration of no longer being the girl who would automatically win the awkward photo contest.

Seven Random Things

*Updated with hair pics!!!

Being random.

That's pretty much how my brain works anyway, so this should be easy.

The Mommyologist tagged me in My Seven, where you have to list seven random things about yourself. I just adore her- she's like my long-lost sister and we've discovered all kinds of odd things that we have in common, including being from the same hometown, though neither of us lives there now. We'd so be inseparable and combat the motherbitches if we lived anywhere near each other. We're going to meet irl soon, though, and I'm superexcited about it. Jealous? You should be.

Anyway, here's my random seven:

1. I can't whistle. I've never been able to whistle. At the end of the year in kindergarten, our teacher had us all on the carpet for circle time and called us up one by one to do an end of the year evaluation, asking us all sorts of things: letters, numbers, colors, to jump, skip, etc. And one of the things was to whistle. And I couldn't. I remember her laughing at me, trying to show me how to do it and making me try several times, before finally letting me sit down when she saw that it wasn't going to happen. I was in tears, thinking that I would not be allowed to move on to first grade because I couldn't whistle. I still can't whistle, though now I have Hubs laughing at me for this, instead of my kindergarten teacher.

2. Speaking of a teacher, if you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, back when I was in school, I would have told you, I don't know, but definitely not a teacher. And yet, that is what I ended up going to school for and working as for almost 6 years before my oldest was born. I loved it, but don't know if I'll ever go back. It's way time-sucking and I don't want to take that much time away from my family. Too much to do after school hours with planning, grading, etc.

3. But, back when I was a teacher, I used to drink Mountain Dew like it was water. Several cans a day. It was an addiction. If I didn't have a stash at school with me, and the soda machine was out, I was a grump and my students knew it. When I got pregnant with Monkey, I gave up caffeine. My students noticed that I was drinking Sprite instead and one of them actually came up to me and asked, "Is the machine out of Mountain Dew again? When does the Pepsi guy come? Do you want me to tell the office we need Mountain Dew?" I didn't resume my addiction, ever, and look at it like an alcoholic looks at drinks: one is too many and a thousand never enough. Hubs calls it my liquid crack.

4. Speaking of soda: I said "pop" for the first 21 years of my life, because that was what it was called where I lived. But, when I moved to NC when I was 22, I started calling it "soda," and even when I eventually moved back to PA, I continued to call it "soda" and didn't care that everyone else called it "pop." I'd've just had to change back anyway, since we're back in NC now.

5. Speaking of living in different places, I lived in Rochester, NY for one year of my life. This is like the lost year, since I usually gloss over it. Here's what I usually say: I lived in PA until the day after my 22nd birthday when I moved to NC to teach. Was there for about 7 years, when we moved to PA shortly before the birth of my second child, to be near family. After about 4 years, we recently moved back here to NC and we're hopefully here to stay. What I usually neglect to mention is that after 1 year of teaching in NC, I moved to NY and was there for slightly less than a year. Because all that sounds like tmi and too complicated to explain in passing conversation. But, I moved there with my X, after he got out of the Marine Corps; we were engaged. When things went bad, I went back to NC. I hated NY. That winter I lived there was the snowiest one they'd had in 75 years or something like that. And for that area, that's saying a lot. I try to pretend that that year didn't happen.

6. Right before I left NY, I went from my blah brown to blonde. Brown hair can be gorgeous, but mine was a blah brown, not a fabulous one. When I'm stressed about something and feel like I have no control, I take it out on my hair since that's an easy thing to control. Color, different cut, new style, etc. Btw, I'll post pics of my new hair soon. There was a small animal left on the floor of sil's salon after I had all that hair cut off. I say it was about 8 inches, Hubs thinks more like a foot. It feels fabulously healthy.

Here's the before pic: This was in September, at my brother's wedding(that's him, blurred out). No changes since then, though my hair probably grew about 2 inches.

Here's right after I got home from getting my hair did(from above brother's wife- she's fabulous!)

She straightened it to within an inch of its life.

Day 2: not fighting my hair's natural tendency to go all over the place- this is after an hour or two spent out on the beach. Yes, it's ME!




7. Speaking of making changes to feel like I'm in control, I also got a tattoo right before I left NY. It's not something that I think that I ever would have done at any other point in my life. But, I was in the mood to do things that were not in character for me. And I thought a tattoo proved some sort of point. If I remember correctly, I was in the mindset of I'm in so much pain from a broken heart that even a tattoo won't hurt. Yeah, right, that sucker HURT. And yes, it's a tramp stamp...though that was before they were called that. And NO, they didn't start being called that because I got one, either.

There's my 7, that I managed to loosely connect: that's actually the way that my brain works: taking one little detail about what I was saying or someone else was saying and going off on a tangent. Luckily, on here, I can edit myself and at least try to have a direction to what I was saying. But, it was fun to have an excuse to be random.

Now, if this had been an email, I never would have done this or forwarded it on. Yet, somehow, in bloggyland, I'm perfectly okay with this sorts of things.

I'm now supposed to tag 7 more bloggers that I want to learn more about. And I usually think it's a cop out if someone gives it to all of their readers. If I read that on someone else's blog, especially if it's an award, I won't take the award or do the little game. Because I think that it's not really meant for me.

However, it's Saturday morning and I'm feeling a bit lazy. Plus, I really do love to know more about all of you. Makes me feel more like I'm talking to my friends rather than just to strangers, which is what freaks out Hubs about blogging.

So, YOU, yes, YOU, are tagged!

The Fabulous Post

Hubs thinks I use the word "fabulous" too often.




Me, I like to think of it as being able to find the fabulous in the every day.



So, here we go...a sample of things I would call fabulous.

My hair used to be fabulous. It's obnoxiously thick and long. Before it got damaged all to hell with color, highlights, and a 400 degree flat iron every day, it was fabulous.



I'm on a mission to have fabulous hair again. It's going to involve scissors and my fabulous sil's fabulous skills.

Pink Truck wine is fabulous. It's cheap and pink and super yummy. I highly recommend it, unless you are a wine connoisseur, because then you might not agree with my assessment.

I make the most fabulous sweet potato casserole ever. But, it's not fabulous for my waistline. It's all the fabulous butter.

An early bedtime for my boys is a fabulous end to my night. If it's 7pm and one of them is still awake, that is NOT fabulous. Go to bed, little fabulous ones, it's past your bedtime.

Just Dance for the Wii is fabulous fun. Especially if you don't take yourself too seriously. If I ever find some friends down here who aren't motherbitches, I'm totally having a fabulous dance party.

Your responses when I write about motherbitches are fabulous. Probaby because you are all fabulous.

Hope in a Jar is the most fabulous moisturizer ever.

Hubs has told Monkey that he is not allowed to say "fabulous" as it is a word "for girls and for boys who want to be girls." I laugh fabulously hard when he says this and especially when Monkey whispers in my ear, "I still like that word, Mommy, it's fabulous!"

Had enough of my random fabulous-ness?


Now that I've pointed out my overuse of "fabulous," no fair pointing it out to me when I overuse it on here or on the comments that I make on your blogs- because you are fabulous!

In fact, feel free to post one of these fabulous sayings on your blog because I say that you are that fabulous.

Where I Sound Like a Lush and a Snob...

I'm showing you the terrible parts of me today. I try to be a "good person," but I sometimes fail miserably. Last night was one of those times.

Yesterday, I was telling you all how I've become a hermit but that I was going to go to a cookie exchange with women that I've never met from a online message board.

In an effort to get to know people, I decided to go(LMAO if you really believe it's for that reason and not because I just love cookies).

There was a list on the message board of things that people were bringing, including drinks.

But, then, yesterday morning, there's a message that alcohol is NOT PERMITTED at the event.

WHAT is that about?

See how I'm already starting to sound like a lush, getting upset at this?

But, to tell a group of grown women that they aren't allowed to have alcohol is ridiculous.

But, apparently, it's one of the bylaws of the bigger organization that this message board is a part of and they got smacked down by some higher up and told that they can't have alcohol.

Still sounding like a lush for being upset- but, when my hermit-self does get to go out, I do like to enjoy a drink or seven. No, really just one or maybe two, depending on how long I'll be there, since I have to drive home.

I thought maybe it would be a situation where they would say that on the board and then, once we were there, the hostess would say(as I would if I were the hostess), "Sorry that I can't serve you any alcohol. Look at all I bought for the party, sitting right there on the counter. I'm going to go over there while you fix yourself a drink. " *insert cheesy wink here*

But, it was not to be. They stuck to their policy. CRAPTASTIC.

I'm much more relaxed when I've had a drink(see the whole lush thing still?). But, I didn't know any of these women and I tend to be an introverted person. Not shy, but introverted- if you are like me, then you totally understand the difference. So, a drink helps. No, I don't actually need one, so I guess that's why I'm not really a lush, I just play one on tv...sound like one on my blog.

Now let's get to the part where I sound like a snob.

I walk into a room of 11 women. I am not the type of person who is friends with everyone and just loves every single person I come into contact with.

I can be friendly to everyone, but I'm selective when it comes to whom I let into my little circle.

If you are clingy,or say really stupid things or say judgemental things(hello kettle, this is the pot...you do realize you're black, right? Yeah, yeah, I know.), I'm probably going to scoot away from you.

If you make faces about the thought of ever having a boy, I will move away. Especially if you tell me that boys are just so gross and no fun to shop for. Thanks for your brilliant insight on my children.

If you try to engage me in a conversation about how you think that formula is evil and breast is best, while a woman in the room is bottle-feeding their baby, I will excuse myself to get a drink. Darn, have to settle for cider. I did breastfeed my babies, but I am of the mind of what you do with your boobs is your business and what I do with mine is my business(and Hubs').

Speaking of boobies, I don't want to see the gigantic tattoo of your husband's name across your massive cleavage. Put that stuff away.

And, if you are not even of age yet(or even if you are, but said person was not yet 21), I do not want to hear about all the clubbing that you do and how you leave your newborn with a 12 year old babysitter while you are out getting trashed. I want A drink, not to be "smashed." Oh and when you are talking about doing this while your Marine husband is deployed to the Middle East, I really don't want to hear about what your cheating ass does.

Oh, and I think you already know how I feel about people who don't eat a thing at a party.

I did find some nice people to talk to. They were the ones saying they wished we could have had a drink and I told them that we should spike the cider when no one was looking- and they agreed. My kind of people.

So, there you have it- me at my absolute ugliest(or close to it, anyway). I'm not always like that, but it's a side of me that does come out sometimes and I wouldn't be being honest with you if I pretended otherwise.

That's Not Me Anymore

Having 3 boys under the age of 5 at the playground tends to keep me occupied.



I don't really notice other things. Just constantly count my boys to be sure I know where they are. 1...2...where's?...oh!...3, 1...2...3...



So, I might not notice someone calling my name from across the playground.


I'm not intentionally being rude by not answering you, I'm just busy.



But, if you call me by a name that no one has called me in over 8 years, I won't even look in your direction.



Yet, it happened on the playground last week.



"Emmy? I thought that was you!"



Blank stare at the girl heading across the playground towards me, toddler planted on her hip.



"It's Michelle," I stammer.



"No, it's Sarah, don't you remember me?" I blink and let her think that I got her name wrong, not that I'm correcting her.



She probably never knew me as anything other than "Emmy."



And I really don't want to explain to this girl why that isn't me anymore.



She plops down on the bench near where I'm standing and proceeds to tell me all that she has been up to since we last saw each other. I vaguely remember that she was married to someone who worked under my X.



I'm not paying much attention to her, still counting my boys to be sure they are all where they are supposed to be, but I'm starting to get lost in thought.



Lost in memories.

Luckily, Monkey rescues me by racing over to remind me that I promised that he and Bear could throw stones down by the sound.

I smile and excuse myself from Sarah, plunk Cub in his stroller and head off towards the water to let the boys try to skip rocks(aka try to make the biggest splash possible).

Sitting beside the stroller, with the two bigs throwing rocks right beside me(close enough to grab should they decide to go for a swim), I let myself think about Emmy.

And of course, that leads me back to X.

A long, long, long, long time ago, I loved him. Anytime I think of him, I think of a line from a Poe poem: "We loved with a love that was more than love." He's the McSteamy character in my life, though I married McDreamy(whom I love very much, btw...I can't help that I got hit over the head with this memory)

One day, when we had been dating for about 6 months or so, as we were taking a walk, arms wrapped around each other, he squeezed me and said, "One day, you'll be me."

I laughed and asked, "I'll be you?"

"No, you'll be ME. Your initials, after we get married, will be ME. M....E.....Emmy. I think I like that better."

And so I became Emmy.

That's how he would introduce me to people. And it was always with a wink or with a squeeze of my hand or my waist. It was his way of reminding me that he wanted to marry me.

We did get engaged.

Started planning our wedding.

It didn't work out.

Too much time has passed now to really even explain it.

But, it ended.

And I was heartbroken.

One of the last conversations I had with him, he said, "I'll always love you, Em..." and he broke off, knowing that he shouldn't call me Emmy anymore.

I laughed through all my tears and agreed that that was who I was now: "Just M. I'll never be M.E."

Looking at my 3 beautiful little boys, I'm glad that I never did become Emmy.

The most important name change that ever happened for me was when I became their Mommy.