In Two Days …

I will be seeing my Irishman.  And it can’t come soon enough! 

Jane Wonder, as aforementioned, is joining me in Vegas.  See her post here about the The Set Up.  Jane is single, as you all know.  So happens that my Irishman has a single friend as well.  Friend of Irishman finds Jane attractive, because well, he’s not dumb.  So while I’m busy with my Irishman doing … um, things, maybe Jane and Friend will find things to do of their own. 

I received the new bathing suit in the mail this weekend.  I promptly tried it on.  It’s not … awful.  It’s not perfect but it’s not awful.  My boobs look good so hopefully no one will notice my large hips.  ShaNaNa is coming over tonight to give me her opinion.  Which is, as always, incredibly truthful.  If it looks awful, I will know tonight. 

I leave in two days to see My Irishman.  *insert perma-grin and happy dance*  TWO DAYS!!  Ohhh Jane and I are going to kick some major Vegas ass.  There will be booze, a fabulous hotel, booze, bars, booze, music, and maybe… ummmm…. booze.  And Irish music, dancing and booze. YAY!

I had drinks yesterday with the man I wrote about last week.  He is bald.  *grin* With a goatee.  And I dig it.  He is nice, and sweet, and has a great laugh.  I wonder if I will go out with him again, cuz yes, he did ask.  Hmmm … Nothing I am thinking about right now. 

Interesting thought – Irishman knows not of my blog.  Therefore, Irishman knows not of Jane Wonder’s blog.  Therefore, Irishman wonders how Jane and I are friends.  Theories are currently being accepted. 

I do not like Wingman’s ex-wife.

Random Esquire is, in my very smart opinion, kick ass.  I received an AWESOME book this weekend, from RE.  “Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea” is the title.  I had to literally stop myself from reading it because it is a long 4.5 hour flight to Vegas, and if I don’t have something to do I’ll end up in the cockpit bugging the pilots to fly faster.  Which, would get me arrested probably and that’d be bad.  Thank you RE, you are truly one of a kind.  *SMOOCH*

I broke my toenail.  My perfectly french-manicured toenail.  I’m so pissed.  I promptly texted my friend who does my nails, she is meeting me tomorrow at 4.30pm to fix it.  Ugh.  While I realize this probably seems super dumb to most of you, I have a thingabout my nails.  I may have tried to explain this before.  It is definitely a QTMama thing, but the fact is, if a nail is broken – and no matter if it’s a toe or finger nail – if it’s broken?  Anxiety ensues.  Mucho.

TWO DAYS PEOPLE.  TWO DAYS!!

Amazing Emilee

Tonight Emilee sang me her version of Amazing Grace …

“Aaamaaazing Grapes, how sweet they sound,
They saved a witch like me
I once was lost, but now am finded,
Was blind, but now I can see …”

God love her.  I sure as hell do.

Thursday Stuff

1) After a conversation with Random Esquire this morning, it was pointed out to me that my Irishman is a very attentive man. I hadn’t thought of it in exactly that way.  I can say quite honestly, that since the first day I met my Irishman, there hasn’t been one day that’s gone by that I haven’t communicated with him in some way.  Whether it be texting, emailing or phone calls.  Not one day.  He IS attentive.  And I’m stupid for not realizing this sooner.

2) PokerMan Update – not much to tell here, actually.  I saw him last week for a bit, he was very sweet and cute and flirted with me.  But has been giving me my space.  It doesn’t quite occur to me to contact him.  <sigh> I don’t want to hurt him either, though.  But as the wise Jane Wonder told me, if it’s not there now for him, it won’t be there in the future.

3) EyeLashMan Update – still talking, texting, etc.  I’ve seen him more than I’ve seen PokerMan, but mostly on a friendly basis.  It seems to me we are friends that have kissed.  I’m fine with that. 

4) On the way home from work on Tuesday, I was stopped in a small traffic jam as it was in the 5pm area.  I notice a car keeping exact time with me, so I glance over.  And then did a double-take.  The man in the car next to me decided to show me his penis.  As he was in a truck, and higher off the ground because of it, he had to like thrust his pelvis up in the air so I could see.  As I stared, I started to laugh.  This did not make the Exposer happy, and he sped up to show some other random woman, I am sure.  Now here is the thing – I wasn’t laughing at his smallish penis, I was laughing at his thrusting.  Just how to you get your pelvic region up that high with a steering wheel in your way?  I texted My Irishman this story - he wrote back with “That’s illegal!” and I started laughing hysterically.  For some reason that response made me laugh.

5) I’ve met a nice man, I think.  From a dating site.  I quit the OkCupid thing, because I was annoyed by all the damn questions you had to answer to get some matches.  (Sorry Wingman, not for me!) We are emailing back and forth quite often – and he has yet to have one misspelling or typo.  Something interesting about him?  He is bald with a goatee.  And I’m finding him yummy.  At least from his pictures.  I will keep you updated on BaldMan.

6) We leave in 5 days for Vegas.  FIVE DAYS. 

7) Some days, I am too lazy to shave my legs. I end up being in the shower forever because once I do shave, I MUST get every single spot on my leg.  And it takes forever.  I hate missing spots.  Drives me nuts.

8 ) I was asked out by a BOY that was 20 years old.  TWENTY.  I told him there is exactly 15 years difference between he and Emilee, and between he and I.  No way.  I’d have to sneak him beer?  Hell to the no.

9) Life right  now, is good.  I am pleased by this.

10) A man in line today at lunch debated for a VERY LONG TIME on whether he wanted sour cream or guacamole on his taco.  I wanted to punch him in the balls.

 

Bella, My Irishman, Jane Wonder and Me

I have a friend who I shall call Bella.  Why do I call her Bella?  Because she is beautiful, and if memory serves, Bella means beautiful in Italian.  And she is, she is beautiful, inside AND out.  I remember first meeting her and hearing that “click” noise in my head.  We got along fine since day one, which was many years ago, but only recently starting becoming closer.  Bella has a personality that simply put, kicks ass.  She brings joy to people, and does so without trying.  She is fun to be around, can make conversation with anyone, and has a laugh that is addictive.  She is intelligent and does her job incredibly well, is well-respected and loved by many.   Except, from what I can tell, by herself.  And this bothers me because I want her to see what everyone else sees, what I see.  I want her to look at herself and value herself unconditionally, she deserves no less.  And she is not yet at this stage.  Her reasons are her own and not for me to share here; but in the end, I want her to be happy.  For herself and with herself.  She deserves only that and no less.  And this got me to thinking about self-esteem.  It can be such a bitch sometimes!  I know after Dick left, my self-esteem was in the gutter laying there next to my heart and bottle of vodka. 

I believe that self-esteem develops and evolves throughout our lives as we build an image of ourselves through our experiences with different people and activities.  I am reminded by one particular time in my life, that was somewhat … *sigh* traumatic for me.  I attended an all-girl private school, and the summer going into my freshman year, I had an accident that required many, many stitches.  In my head.  I had to have my head shaved in order for these stitches to be put in.  So either I had a reverse Mohawk, ear to back of head to other ear, or I just shaved it all and let it grow back as it will.  I opted for the shaved head.  So I started my freshman year pretty much bald, with some slight peach fuzz.  Side Note: Wingman, I believe you and I met shortly after this happened … I had very short hair if you remember!   This was, in my opinion, a turning point in my life.  Not only was I rejected by most girls at my school (other than the few friends I already had), but absolutely ANY chance I had of meeting boys at this already young, awkward age was simply … thrown out the damn window.  I was pointed at, made fun of and pretty much hated everything about myself in those days.  My self-esteem was low, so incredibly low that I just wanted to stay in bed until my hair grew back, until the awful scar was no longer noticeable.  And then one day I was at the grocery store with my mom, and a stockboy that was a couple of years older kept walking by and smiling at the bald me.  I kept my head down and didn’t make eye contact.  My fabulous mother, took my face in her hands, looked me in the eyes and said “NEVER be ashamed of who you are.  Ever. Because you are beautiful.” I remember staring at her and thinking “how can I not be ashamed?  LOOK at me.”  Stockboy walked over at this point, smiled, asked if he could see.  Before I could answer, he took my bald head in both hands and looked my scar up and down, side to side, turning my head this way or that for a better view.  I was mortified, completely stunned into silence.  When he brought my head up and looked into my eyes, which I remember were shining with tears that hadn’t fallen, he smiled and said “You are stunningly beautiful”.  He kissed my forehead and he walked off.  I never saw him again.  But I’ve never forgotten him.  And always, I’ve been thankful to him.  Because he, in that single moment, began the RE-creation of my self-esteem. 

I do have a point in my very long story here.    Self-esteem is something that others can help with.  Being praised, being listened to, being spoken to respectfully, giving attention and hugs to someone, and having trustworthy friends are things that I believe are important for self-esteem.  And if I can EVER do that for someone … I will.  I try to.  And for Bella, just know my beautiful friend, your inner critic is going to be beaten down and put to death by yours truly, so you better tell it I’m opening a can of whoop ass. 

 

Today I woke up today with a phone call from my Irishman, and he was reminding me that I will be SEEING him in 7 days.  SEVEN DAYS.  Jane Wonder and I landing in Vegas in SEVEN DAYS.  Yup, us and our bathing suits will be there for four nights and five days.  Oh the excitement is starting to kick in.  Big time.  My daddy, who loves me and spoils me, gave me a nice crisp $100 dollar bill to go out and buy a couple new shirts to wear.  Which I am doing tonight.  ShaNaNa was going to accompany me, but had to cancel as they are going camping.  EW. I hate camping.  It’s gross.

Jane Wonder kicks some major ass in case any of you didn’t know.  And how could you not?  She rocks.  We are going to make our mark on Vegas.  Huge.

Bathing Suits and The Weekend of Misunderstandings

This past weekend was a great one!  Emilee was home and we spent all kinds of mommy and me time.  

I live in a subdivision that has a pool.  If you live in the subdivision, the pool is open for you.  We LOVE going to the pool – we can spend all day there and it’s a saving grace for me and her.  There is a kiddie pool, a big pool with a slide and diving board, playscapes for the kids, sand volleyball, basketball and BBQ’s if you choose to cook.  In the past, I’ve always sat in the chairs by the exit, but at this age, she knows she can’t just leave and not tell me.  It dawned on me this weekend that she no longer runs and tells me she needs to use the bathroom.  She just goes … by herself.  It dawned on me this weekend that she brought her own change purse and bought herself snacks at the snack bar.  By herself.  It dawned on me this weekend she felt that she no longer needed to inform me when she wanted to swim in the big pool.  It dawned on her that this was not acceptable to mommy.  There are lifeguards, yes.  However, she is not a strong swimmer and the lifeguards are teenagers.  No offense lifeguards, but I’ll be watching my girl splash around better than you.  It dawned on me this weekend that she has her own friends and she goes to the playscape for HOURS to make mud pies.  It dawned on me that she went and got in the shower by herself to get all of the mud off of her.  I felt, all of a sudden, not needed.  And in that single moment of realization, I took back every wish I ever made in those times of frustration that this day would hurry and get here.  And in that moment of realization, my girl came running over to have me kiss the spot where she bumped her head.  And I realized I’m still needed after all.  And it felt good.

It was also an interesting weekend in that it was full of misunderstandings.  Some purposeful and caused by me (One Date Wonder, I had you there for a second! Heh), some hilarious and misunderstood by me (Random Esquire, I checked today in the shower.  I’m all good!) and some not so fun (Wingman and ShaNaNa, you are both kick ass, I swear).  Funny how some misunderstandings can make you smile, some make you laugh and some make you feel like the wind was just knocked out of you.  A mistake of intent can be a deal breaker, methinks.

Irishman texted me Saturday evening with the three most dreaded three words a woman ever wants to hear – Bring bathing suits.  Which means I must tell Jane Wonder the three most dreaded words a woman ever wants to hear as well.  Oh the horror of swim suits.  The single thing that can make this mama go from a confident happy woman to feeling like I’m in 9th grade again, trying to fit in.  Let’s pretend for a moment shall we? 

I’m in the dressing room and I find a PERFECT suit.  You know the one I mean.  The color is fabulous on me, it makes my boobs perky and happy again; and of course, shows a perfect amount of cleavage that everyone who looks at me will find completely sexy.  It makes my butt and hips look SMALL.  It even somehow camouflages the … Ugh … bit of cellulite that came to visit a few years ago and has yet to return to the evil place it came from.  I tell you what – if I ever found this suit?  I don’t care if it cost 2 billion dollars, I’d buy it.  On the spot.  Remortgage my home.  Sell a few eggs, I don’t care.  I’d BUY IT.

Now let’s return from La La Land and back to reality. Facts: I carried a baby for nine months who laid transverse in my stomach until 8 months.  I gave birth to said child, without drugs! Go me.  I breastfed and pumped my poor breasts until they were I’m sure, resembling my grandmothers breasts on her deathbed.  I admit freely that I carry weight in my hips.  I have the … what does Wingman call it?  Hourglass shape.  I’ve always had larger breasts and wider hips.  And a small waist.  Jeans, pants, etc that fit my hips?  Never fit my waist.  I have scars on my stomach from a small amount of skin cancer that was found there and needed to be surgically removed. I believe I have, *sigh*, stretch marks from having Emilee.  Not a lot, but definitely … two.  Perhaps three. I am thirty freaking five and while I can hide certain things in the clothes I choose to wear, these same things are not able to be hidden in a bathing suit dammit!  And so, with a combination of horror and shame, I will pack my swim suit for Vegas.  But I also packed it with this notion: Being thirty freaking five has also brought me some clarity as well.  I am who I am.  I have what I have.  I accentuate what I have to the best of my ability. I do not hate my body, because really, what good does it do?   If you like me, then you’re gonna have to like ALL of me: breasts, stretch marks, cancer scars and hips included.  And if you don’t?  Well,  then ….

I believe there is a like, Oh My God, a nineteen year old body out there somewhere looking for someone old enough to buy her alcohol. 

Favorite Friday

I think it important to mention a few of my favorite things every now and again.  So, here we go:

 

 

Urban Decay’s Eyeshadow Primer Potion.  This stuff is so spectacular I will never ever go without it again.  You put this on your lids before applying eyeshadow – and your eyeshadow will look at 9PM what it looked like at 9AM.  I use to have the problem of my eyeshadow kinda … just looking worn, or creasing even, after a day of working, etc.  Not anymore!  I’ve also noticed that reapplying eyeshadow later in the day, let’s say you’re going glam for an evening?  No issues! 

 

 

 

 

 

             ‘Nuff said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

                                                    

I am a coffee snob.  I admit it and am not ashamed of it.  I remember once Dick making coffee for me in the morning, while I was still sleeping.  I immediately woke and asked “Do I smell coffee?” and he was astonished that I could wake up from a dead sleep because I simply inhaled the delicious fumes of the coffee being brewed.  To emphasize my crazy coffee point, today at work I STOLE sugar from someone in order to have a cup of coffee, because of course I have a one cup maker at my desk.  I STOLE SUGAR.  I was stealthy and lurked around until it was safe and took sugar, just to have a cup at my desk.  Something is wrong with me.  Even Emilee knows.  She’ll see a Starbucks and say “Mama!  You want to get a coffee so you aren’t crabby?”  

 

 

 

  

 

 

Oh, shoes.  Where for art thou shoes!  Probaby one of the reasons I loved Sex and The City so much was the love for shoes Carrie Bradshaw and I shared.  I am sometimes astonished to see the amount of shoes I have, and I keep buying more.  I’m also proud to say Emilee loves shoes as much as her mommy does, but much to her daddy’s chagrin. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ’Nuff said again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bob Ross. 
Seriously.  I miss you Bob.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Photo Credit: www.urbandecay.com, www.businessweek.com, http://shewbox.blogspot.com, http://insite.neimanmarcus.com, www.touchpodium.com, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Ross]

That Which Exists in the Mind as the Product of Careful Mental Activity

Sometimes I wonder if my perception of reality is just that – MINE.  How can two people look at the same situation with an entirely different point of view?  My only answer to this is … the male brain vs. the female brain.  And so I offer a few thoughts …

For years, and I do mean YEARS (and I believe my Wingman will attest to this) I have had what I consider to be a very male mentality on most things.  I am not easily embarrassed or offended.  I’m not put off by people that don’t like me (which, truth be told, are normally women), I’m just … me.  I take things as they come and deal with them.  My divorce was not devastating to me, it was handled with maturity and in the end, Emilee has a fabulous father and he and I are probably better friends now than we ever were when we were married.  I appreciate this fact and hope that our friendship is something Emilee grows up seeing.  What was devastating to me?  When Dick left.  It knocked me flat on my ass and I wasn’t sure how to go about getting up because in my entire life, I had never loved a man the way I loved him.  I believe, for a while there, I was a shell of the person I use to be.  Getting back to me has been a journey and I’m glad I’m back.   Hell, even *I* missed me.   

My point in all of this?  My reality with Dick was not his reality.  How did I not notice this?  My reality with PokerMan is not his reality.  I notice this.  My reality with Irishman?  Who the hell knows?  I like to think I’m realistic on this.  But we do not speak of it and I’m ok with that.  Really, what is there to talk about?  And so I come to the conclusion that my reality seems to be just that, mine.  How hard is it to find the same reality with someone?  And why do I notice it now, when I should have noticed it before with Dick? 

On the other hand, my reality with the very few girlfriends I have seems to be right on target.  ShaNaNa and I have never had issues, and have always been very close.  Her reality is understood by me and I believe my reality is completely understood by her.  Same goes with Jenn.  This leaves me to believe and point out that we are all females and no matter what kind of mentality I have, we have the female brain.  However, look at Wingman and I.  It’s like our brain is the same in most aspects.  Or maybe it’s that I know how his brain works as he knows mine.  I can tell by a simple look on his face if the wheels are turning and which direction they are headed.  That thought makes me smile because sometimes I think it irritates him, as well as fascinates him. 

Could I possibly throw anymore random shit in one blog entry?

Jane Wonder and I leave for Vegas in 12 days.  TWELVE. 

Sin City and The Wonder

So my fabulous readers, tell me this: What could possibly be more dangerous than a QTMama let loose in Sin City?  That seems kind of like a recipe for insanity, right?  Picture it… my Irishman, booze, dancing up a storm, sweltering heat, gambling … That’s what I’m saying. And yet, I assure you, there is something more dangerous yet. 

Pairing that rockin’ One Date Wonder up with this QTMama and letting them both run free through the streets!

That’s right, One Date Wonder is allowing me the privilege of her company in Vegas in just over two weeks. That town and my Irishman may never be the same. 

 

Intervention, My Right Eye and Other Things

I am addicted to the show “Intervention” on A&E.  My name is QTMama.  Q-T-M-a-m-a.  Admittance is the first step you know.  For some reason, watching these people do drugs or drink themselves into a stupor is fascinating to me.  Tonight the subject is Chad.  He’s a crack addict, lives on the street, and is a complete dick to his parents. And I’m fascinated.

Today I had a pounding headache over my right eye.  POUNDING.  I left work a bit early and took a nap in hopes of it going away.  When I woke up, my right eye was swollen – it looks like I walked into someones fist.  Lovely.  Emilee helped me by giving me a frozen bag of corn to put on my eye. 

I spent some time on Saturday night with EyeLashMan.  He can flat out snuggle.

My Irishman and I have been talking and texting more than ever. He and I are both looking forward to my visit so very much.  Four nights, five days.  And I imagine 4th of July in Vegas is quite hoppin. 

I spent Father’s Day with my daddy and we had a wonderful time together.  It made me smile to see how happy he was just to hang out.  I need to do that more often, and for no reason.

My MoonDoggie has the worst gas ever.  My living room reeks at this moment. 

The hormonal wave is finally over.  Thank you God.  Let it all flow O U T.    TMI?  Ha probably.  Sorry boys.

Em is at her dad’s till Thursday after tonight.  I am feeling a bit lost.  I imagine poker is in my future. 

Sometimes, it feels very good to take my bra off at the end of the day.  Which makes me think of a good friend of mine, who always tells me I should “let them breathe”. 

Here is an embarrassing fact.  I sent Irishman a picture message today.  It was not a porn picture by any means, but more of a private joke between he and I.  When I asked him if he got it, he said no.  I looked in my sent messages?  Totally sent this picture to someone else by mistake.  *red cheeks on QT*   I immediately texted this other person with a “can you just forget you saw that?” and he wrote back “I do not believe that is humanly possible.”    That did make me giggle.

Ahh the randomness!

16 days till I leave for Vegas.

Thursday’s Thoughts

1) Emilee has become aware of her clothes. I gave her a shirt with Tweetie Bird on it to wear to school today, and she downright refused to wear it because “it looks lame”. She’s five. FIVE.

2) I have big news to share soon. Collaboration is needed before posting however. 

3) Oh Random Esquire, RE, where for art thou, RE? 

4) Wingman, as you know, well he’s … mine.  He’s my best friend in many ways.  Old ways, new ways sometimes, and just will always be there.  So as I share so much with him, I sometimes forget that he’s on the West Coast and I’m not. Texting him at 9am my time means I’m waking him at 6am his time.  *giggle* To which I get the confused, cranky texts back.  Which makes me giggle even more.   And mind you, this is completely fair.  He moved away from me and I still have a nice pout about that every now and again.  So it’s fair.

5) My flight to Vegas is booked for the 4th of July weekend.  DooDeeDoo.  I have perma-grin again.

6) It is time to break things off with PokerMan.  I’ve tried, and I want to like him, but it’s just not there for me.  And it seems to be there for him; he’s become jealous and questions whether I’m home alone or not, what I’m doing when I’m not with him, etc..  I’m not so cool with this.  It’s time.  He’s a nice man and I hope we can remain friends, but at this point I’m doubting he’ll be interested in being my friend.

7) Pennies annoy me.  I feel they are a big pain in my ass.  I mean, if you think of it, you’ll NEVER need more than four, right?  And of course, I always end up with thousands of stupid pennies.

8 ) Red Wine Gums, my other handsome Irishman, did a post on long distance relationships.  Not that I’m in one.  *looking around innocently*  It’s a good, thought-provoking post if you care to check it out. 

9) Emilee is with her dad this weekend and most of next week.  This makes my heart hurt.

10) HeartStrings and Sunsex got me thinking about what searches from the ‘Net that have brought people to my blog.  Here are some examples that made me grin:

• how to make fake fireplace (Ahh PokerMan and his fake fireplace, thank you for bringing random readers to my blog!)
• woman wetting pants falling laughing tip (W T F? You need a tip for this?)
• hell pickup lines (Hell why not?)
• my cialis effect (giggle)
• cougar bar (It’s PUMA, thank you very much)
• coke spilled on yes essentials seats (what?)
• sex drunk “my bedroom” (and in quotes no less!)
• amazingly enough i dont give a shit  (trudat)
• sexy (*batting eyelashes*  Why thank you!)
• stripper pick up lines (cuz I know so many of these)
• whats it like to date an irish man (it’s good. Real good)

11) That’s some general randomness from my brain today.  Oh and that I see my Irishman in less than three weeks.  WOOT