Celebrating Father's day the RIGHT way

Father's day cleverly comes about a month after Mother's day. I've learned in my short years as a mom that parenting isn't a game that involves score. We all lose. We all win. We are a team. Right? EXCEPT for the Hallmark holidays meant to highlight the gift of being a dad or mom. I was happily surprised this Mother's day as I was rewarded for being a mama. Like very well compensated (certain coming from store on Rodeo Drive... not bad. not bad). AND last year, it was MADONNA tickets. MY IDOL. And not just tickets, FLOOR seats to the BEST concert i have EVER seen. SO no pressure. Now my turn to think.: WHAT IN THE WORLD WOULD MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE A MILLION BUCKS? 

A book? absolutely not. would highlight his hatred for books...He's super duper smart, but not into books. Weird I know. I still dig him. One day i'll read again too and not just collect books on my night-stand. 

Lingerie? that's more painful than i can take on right now..And my body is beautiful just as it is. AND again it's about the kids right? not about making kids. 

Handprint shenanigans? school is all over that. Cheaters. how can they steal the EASIEST Pinterest fail that he can't laugh about because his kids worked HARD. 

A trip? let's be real. i cant pull that off... i need to research, and think, and talk. No can do. I tried planning a camping and was greeted by disappointment. 

Tee-shirt? no. The last one he wore says, "your trailer or mine".Embarrassingly enough i dig that one. Can't replace it. Not trading a new for the old one. 

Then ding???? brain stops... What does he LOVE? Me. And what makes me happy? a monogrammed fouta. So... monogrammed fouta it is. HOW DOES HE NOT HAVE HIS OWN MONOGRAMMED FOUTA? Everyone else does...

No joke. Gift #1. DONE. 

Well in close second comes his love for music... This man did invite me to dance in the middle of a bar the night i first met him. Good song equal dancing. Dances with kids in living room, kitchen, couch, whatever he can get. Ok... This is going somewhere. Clubbing? Please this is LA. They don't dance. They stand by the bar sipping their $34 cocktail with Anise. Country bar? please, there are none... i checked already for anniversary. this town is dying for variety. Ok back to basics.... 

And what does he love? outdoor music... Ok what do we need, indoor music. Redirect. Indoor music system it is. His small red portable machine is GOING. Here comes our system. Thank you Best Buy. Million dollars later. 

And kicker... as i purchased, they ask for our phone number. I casually give the smiling sales-guy the cell associated with account... his cell... So direct email shall arrive to his phone. Oh boy. At least he got a cool gift. the fouta will be a HIT. 

And that's how you do Father's day. The right Way. You have store warn him of giant purchase by email... MOTHER OF THE YEAR right here. He'll dig it. I know. 

Top TEN places I have used my fouta

This past weekend, at a show in Atlanta, GA, i was asked repeatedly: ok tell me how to use this beautiful towel? Because let's be honest, fouta isn't the easiest word to say especially for a newbie. I responded kindly, do you want the clean-stories or the real-mom stories? 9/10 I was greeted with a smile, and the real mom stories is what i served up. Let's be honest, who has time for the clean stories? No one... Especially not moms browsing the market section of a preschool festival. 

Here are my top TEN uses in life with two beautifully dirty kids:

10. PLANE: to catch my oldest vomit. We have tried the coat, purse, stupid bag Delta provides, and the fouta is the most absorbent by far. And you can't beat the surface area. AND it fits right back into a ziplock bag to be happily stowed until we reach our final destination. Then we toss in wash (yes i should say we always rinse...). 

9. Baby Boot Camp Class: i get a yoga mat. my kiddo gets a fouta. It gets covered in apricots, dried raisins, and maybe a few goldfish or cheerios. Then tossed in wash. It magically comes back to life. Every time. 

8. PLANE: again. Yes we do travel a little bit with our kids. I ask myself WHY every time.. Memories. Creating Memories. Right. Yes. As the airlines are cutting costs, they got rid of FOOD, SPACE for a normal human to extend their legs, and now BLANKETS. When was the last time you saw a blanket (well when not paying $8000 to fly upfront, and my puking toddlers are not welcome up there). Maybe 1999? And since the ability to regulate temperature on board is too difficult, it's usually a steady 55 Fahrenheit. And a fouta covers my kiddos and I just perfectly for a take-off-nap. Then it's party time. 

7. Car: to clean up again. Post vomit. Again my oldest. After the trauma of spit-up has ceased, we start the clean up. Air vents. Ipad (this stupid thing won't die). Shoes. Her hair. My hair. If only they made medication for motion sickness... yes i know it exists but it never exists in my bag. Always safely tucked away at home. Again: ziplock until final destination. 

6. Beach: these dear kiddos have grown accustomed to the XL-fouta lifestyle, aka LOTS of space to spread out. Why play on the sand when you can dump the sand ONTO the fouta and play? Genius... 

5. My office: all moms know this is the extra room in the house for dumping... including new inventory, orders pending, and orders shipping. So naturally, I setup a fouta for the construction of cabin-like-structures, for doll-sleepovers, for crafts (I will forever ban glitter in the ENTIRE house), and simply spot designated to stare at me working... begging for water or snack. 

4. Backyard: among the water balloons, scooters, rollercoaster, and water-table, there's a fouta. Because no matter the fun, someone always need to wipe her hands, his face, or simply needs a time-out in my lap. I'm no longer scared of the damage the fouta is going to endure. My kids play tough. Foutas can take it. 

3. Sidewalk: a busted knee, requires heavy duty care from this mom. My youngest enjoys face-planting, and this is not the time for alcohol-infused super-wipes (ouch). So a little blood never did anything to our mint fouta - the lightest color we have absorbed into our home-collection. Not the dark purple. Or the chocolate color. But classy mint was at our disposal. Again, it cleaned up just nice after the first wash.

2. Emergency diaper: what does one do when there's no more diapers in the bag because of poor planning? You beg. I beg my 2 year old to hold his pee as he sits happily in his carseat after a beach morning... It was a great cloth diaper. My 2 year old seems very free and cozy... Diapers soaked in sand and salt water are not so cozy. And as we know cleaning a fouta is a piece of cake compared to the stupid carseat.  

1. Backyard: simple. Because after all, isn't it all about simplicity? After the kids play hard all day and need a cozy wrap, there's always a fouta waiting for their outdoor dinner. And they need a barrier between their small bottoms and the hard wooden chairs. I still haven't invested in cushions... one day. 

AND the most important. My fouta always recovers. Clean as can be. Not gonna lie, i considered with each vomiting episode to toss it... but i couldn't separate from my mint fouta. Just couldn't. 

That's a wrap. Happy Monday. 

The DAY HAS COME... Fouta 4 Fouta

Officially on April 1st 2017, Fouta Colors embarks on an important initiative benefiting Helping Mamas (www.helpingmamas.org). We believe Fouta 4 Fouta makes an impact by donating one fouta for every fouta purchased. No gimmicks. No complicated rules. Simple: you buy a fouta, we donate a fouta. Fouta 4 Fouta

Who is Helping Mamas: a phenomenal non-profit founded in Atlanta, GA providing baby supplies to moms in need. They connect helping mamas to mamas that need help. Items range from lotion to carseats, to cribs, to infant carriers, to pull-ups, to diapers, to TOWELS. Many items are donated in gently-used condition, but towels are always high on the need-list. 

Why are we doing this: giving back is not an innate quality. We believe some individuals are drawn to give back, whether it's in-kind donation, monetary donations or most significantly, your time. As we are currently across the country from Helping Mamas, we choose to donate foutas to make our impact. As Helping Mamas explains, parental financial hardship contributes to increased parental stress, and increased risk social, emotional, and behavioral issues in children. If Fouta Colors can help by just providing foutas, we are a step closer to helping families with basic needs. Hopefully one day, we donate sufficient foutas and Helping Mamas no longer needs to purchase towels, therefore concentrating all efforts on other baby supplies and programs for moms.  

How are we doing this: combination of innovative technology and distributor. Technology is grand as it records every sale, and monthly we will ship the donated foutas to Helping Mamas's headquarters in Atlanta. We ordered child-size foutas, and box them up to Atlanta. 

Fouta 4 Fouta process: in a few weeks we are hoping to have tool-bar indicating how many foutas made it to Helping Mamas. We want our buyers to watch the progress! 

How to get involved with Helping Mamas: They happily take gently used items (except cribs/carseats due to liability) www.helpingmamas.org 

Thank you for being part of our BIG movement, Fouta 4 Fouta. 

 

 

Just snap that picture... of YOURSELF.

I was recently asked a series of questions (like in depth... more below), and asked to accompany my deep answers with a picture of myself. WHAT. Of me, only me, and myself. Ok. Again i got this... right? How hard is it to find a picture of yourself on your phone? Well apparently it's a complex question requiring  a blog post. Seriously. 

Step 1. Admitting you have a problem. Yes. Hello, i'm an addict of taking, sharing, and printing pictures... of my kids. Like it's a problem. If my husband allowed it, i would take professional pictures monthly. But apparently that's not acceptable to our budget. To anyone's budget. Looking back, we did have session before my oldest birthday, during her party, and week before we set off for the West Coast. So all three of those event are within 3 weeks of each other. And then when we landed in CA, we booked a beach shoot. Gotta have beach pictures, right? So yes it is a problem. Our front entrance at home is covered by our homely 24 canvases... Before booking this home, the BIGGEST question wasn't where are my kids gonna sleep (btw this CA concept of sharing rooms is GENIUS), but where are the canvases going. We did have to downsize coming here... including our canvas collection. Well my collection. 

Step 2. Look back. Because EVERYONE wants to relive my madness. No. But the proof always lies in your Iphone history. Wowza my kids have changed. Have i changed? Of course! I'm now a business owner, a CA driver's license owner (and more importantly a CA-tax-payer), and mother of 2, and wife of 6 years (gf of zillion years, but who's counting). Of course i've changed. BUT there's certainly no photographic documentation. And let's be honest, it's all about the documentation! PHOTOS always trigger thoughts, feelings, smiles, and history. My documentation lies at my fingertips. And as i'm always behind the lens, i surely see my fingers as 'sometimes' they make the side-portions of many pictures. 

Step 3. Look ahead. YES. Let's be positive. In perfect world, i would commit myself another challenge to myself... BUT how many can i fail? This one isn't hard. Stick that lens in my face (or hit the clever backwards button), and snap. Ok. Deep breath. I can build a business but i can't snap a picture. Fouta pictures? i am ashamed of the amount of pictures saved on my 2 external hard drives... 

Step 4. Live now. Snap now. OF YOURSELF. Below is the latest... Next one, i'm smiling. 

The BEST way to wear a fouta.

Are you a show-off-my-bathing-suit-type? a-side-swoop with my giant coverup? Or let's make this a dress? Or a skirt? OR my kids pulled on it and this is the style? OR just slap it on my body effortlessly making a giant bow in the middle (i swear this is a style. Just like "effortless beach wave hair" is a style)? No matter the style, go with what works. 

The BEST way to wear a fouta is to match your style. Duh. I know this isn't ground-breaking BUT you would be surprised how many women attempt to wear clever coverups and never get the hang of it (example #1: ME). SO in order to fit your style, look at our clever style-guide. A genius artist came up with the card below. It works EVERY time. 

Whatever your style du-jour, we have you covered. Check out below our styling cards!

Mine is 100% "The Bandeau" style. On on top of every scratch, stretch mark, and shoulder-diaper-bag indentation, i can't have tan-lines! Enjoy. 

 

What's hiding under your FOUTA?

My darling little girl is known to have a few tricks up her sleeve (she is 4 after all), and stuffing the bottom of her bed is particularly "fun". On top of her full-size comforter lives a fouta (hot pink of course to fit her hot pink sparkling personality), and it's always magic to uncover her hidden treasures night after night. At bedtime of course. When we are all full of energy... Right, said no parent. EVER. Back to the story,  this is what is hiding under her fouta tonight:

-a guitar (her pink one). It has 2 broken strings, but who is counting. Her uncle Bertrand would NOT be impressed by my quick dismissal of a broken guitar. Sorry. I said i was sorry...

-3 fridge magnets. As i'm obsessed with pictures, "free" magnets from Shutterfly appear weekly at our house. And somehow magically appear at the end of her bed. My in-laws and hubby's aunt are both recipients of these magical photo magnets. Everyone needs magnets in their lives. 

-zillion stuffed animals. If we are gifted one more... Panda, camel, monogrammed bunny (keeper for sure). Guess what i'm gifting the neighbors for Easter? Yep monogrammed bunnies...

-one sock. why would 2 be found? because that's actually useful. Socks... i could write 1000 words about socks in this house. I won't bore you. Maybe one day. On a rainy day...

-puzzle. a full-set ballerina puzzle. box and all. Must be missing her buddies who gifted her such items. i think she's just stashing it away from her little bro. She is masterful at hiding the good stuff from her bro. Genius really. 

-wet washcloth. WHY. I can't even muster the energy to smell it. These are usually located near changing table or kitchen sink as i can't handle kisses from her bro without mucus. Food i can handle on my face as a secondary site, but mucus, NO WAY. So i happily wipe his nose. only one million times a day. At least a million. And as a resident of preschool 2 mornings a week, he has a consistent runny nose. 

-T'choupi book. Her bro's FAVORITE book. I wonder why... Um.... They really do love each other. I promise. And if they don't, that sucks because they are about to share a room for the next 2 years. Hard CA life. 

-Crayons.WHY ARE THESE NOT AT THE CRAFT TABLE. The only worst thing than finding unmatched socks is finding crayons. I swear we own at least one million, and they are never in the craft cabinet, table, or near the crayon bin. This is why: she hoards them in her bed. 

-Barbie shoes. 2 shoes. Oh yeah. Those miniature chocking hazards. Those things that ALL parents loathe. They don't fit. They don't stay on. They just cause havoc. THOSE shoes we don't separate. OK then. And thinking about it, I didn't know we had Barbies. I feel a purge coming on...

-Big Red. Her dada's favorite and only stuffed animal. and yes it is giant. This is probably the only acceptable item under her fouta. I get it. When i ask her about it, she claims she has no idea why it's there... Ok child. I was hoping for some sentimental reason. Nope she cleared that up right away. Ok child, i hear you. 

-THAT Target dress: this dress... It's huge topic of contest with my dear daughter. It's too small. Too summer-ish for middle winter (even for CA). So she now wears it with a shirt underneath and leggings. Looks awesome. I'm not a fashionista, but this is like socks with open-toe-shoes. So of course it's place is clearly in her bed. Close to her body. 

These foutas really are larger than life.

The proof resides at the bottom of her toddler bed.

Like you needed proof...?

-

Just do this on Valentine's day: HTT (Handle The Trash).

Got you thinking. Got you reading. Thinking maybe, has she lost her mind? How dare she compare the day of LOVE with the trash..? Besides owing readers an explanation, I also have a big REVEAL. A big one. The secret to rock your world. It's quite simple actually. Very easy. As one member of this married couple, i live by one rule: i boycott a certain February Hallmark holiday in my marriage... I said it. Valentine's day isn't for us. As a business owner, it blows my credibility a little bit by making this public.. I have made it my DUTY to know ALL the details about every holiday. It's PRIME time for sales. Perfect for Facebook campaigns (which we did. Didn't you see our beautiful monograms?). Perfect for the perfect monogrammed fouta. But i owe honesty to the 3 people reading this post (and i know my husband isn't one of the three).  

But first back to basics. I love red. Like LOVE. I love red roses. I love heart-shaped candy. I love my red Toms shoes. I also love pink. I love seeing hearts on all the kids at preschool pickup. All the cupid decorations i could do without, but it's part of the game. BUT let's be honest, IT IS A HOLIDAY FOR CHILDREN. It's time to be full on honest as it doesn't have space in our marriage. I shower the kiddo's friends with baggies full of love. Full of trinkets about love. Chocolate hearts. Pink cupcakes (store-bought only as i don't bake). We have monkeys that hug you (thank you Oriental Trading). There's heart-shaped sunglasses, and bubbles that come out as hearts (seriously no. but Oriental Trading you should look into that). We have more heart candy than my kids could possibly eat. Cards. Big ones. Little ones. NO Elsa ones. Another boycott this time around. We chose Dory instead. And Trolls (thanks to a certain visit to Miami, my oldest is obsessed. Thanks. One more pink thing with long pink hair to manage). 

I haven't lost my mind i promise. My marriage is full of love. Love that is showed by huge variety of small ways. And my favorite is watching my husband take out the trash (we all know if it's not witnessed, you can't get credit). For my husband, it's me unloading the dishwasher. (he hates this simple mind-numbing task). Love is holding my hand before i plunge into the task of putting the kids to bed. By smiling across the park after i step into dog poop (this is CA people. there's STRICT laws about this). By simply putting his phone down, his listening ears on, and actively empathize with the day i'm having. By staying silent when i wear completely horrific-looking boots that i saw on Instagram. Or by giggling about why i put our youngest in timeout. Again. And again. Love doesn't need a specific day. It's all about HTT. That's where love lives. In the mundane (a secret my grand-father passed along to me years and years ago. BEFORE i had any idea what LOVE was all about. I get it now). 

Lastly, genius acronym right? I thought i was being SO smart. And funny. And i need to be cool. Because a certain person did not have any clue what ROFL meant. And i swear i'm not that old. And by the way, HAPPY VALENTINE's day. May your day be filled of pink cupcakes, and heart-shaped bubbles. 

 

What do you read?

One merry day when both kids needed to run off some energy, we embarked on a short walk around the block. And i wanted a newspaper. It requires more energy to load them into car for Target run, so we shall walk to find this magical newspaper. Reading a newspaper reminds of my way-younger-years while living at home, and enjoying the quiet morning time with my mom. Clearly the comics were my favorite but so was the local metro news. Bad stuff happening then. Bad stuff happening now. Things don't really change. My kids see me reading on my phone, but never a newspaper. No time like the present. And it's partly part of my challenge (to read. Book. Newspaper isn't exactly a book. Details). So we walk by a newsstand. WOWZA. The world publishes SO MANY MAGAZINES. Seriously so many. Every interest. I'm unfamiliar with 90% apparently. I need to broaden my horizon besides US weekly, PEOPLE, Gala, Paris Match (yes these last two are in French, but same news. News is a generous word i'm using). Few note-worthy things of this spectacular newsstand:

ADULT Magazines: i'm in total shock that it takes up 1/4 of the stand. Seriously. I guess i assumed everyone used their phones… BUT apparently many are buying. And it seems to be the only section at eye-level. Interesting ploy. 

KIDS Magazines: i guess kids don't read… there are a few Dora ones that look from 1972, but that's it. Glad i didn't threaten to take away their new magazine if they misbehave as there are none (yes i use threats to keep my kids in line. Mother of the year right here). 

GLUTEN-FREE Magazines: who knew this topic was ALSO the keynote speaker of 7 magazines. Crazy. I'm sure it was SO informative. I must admit i did not pick it up. I enjoy gluten. I don't discriminate any yummy food ingredients, except garlic. 

AUTO Magazines: who knew there was such an interest in Auto magazines... i glanced. It's mainly ads. Is this the equivalent to US weekly, where it's full of ads and maybe has one article about the latest breakup? If so, they should be flying off the shelf. 

FRENCH Magazines: i debated. and debated. Do i NEED the Paris Match??? Yes i do... it shall sit on my nightstand unread stalking me... Crap. It is a magazine. My challenge was to read books... I'll keep trying.

PHOTO Magazines: i must admit i did glance for 3 reasons... 1. I'm running a business requiring some photography skills that i've outsourced for the most part, but i should be capable of snapping pics, right? 2. I'm that-mom: crazy-iphone-paparazzi around my kids (screaming JUST SAY CHEESE ONE LAST TIME). 3. I LOVE printing pictures. Exhibit A. my canvas wall of pictures. It's like Canvas on Demand threw up in my living room. Exhibit B. the millions of orange packages sitting in my office... One day i'll frame them all.  Back to to topic at hand: I couldn't get navigate past the titles... I have no clue what camera i own besides the sheer fact that it's a black Canon with a purple strap. I don't know what software i use because i just click and magically it pops up (well it only pops up when I don't throw my computer across the room because it has yet again crashed). So i did not purchase these magical make-your-business-run-smoother-magazine. Next time maybe... One day i'll learn. On my list. 

HOME Magazines: i thought Pinterest cornered the market on Home design. NOPE. This newsstand does. And boy it did not disappoint. Lifestyle-Home-Bloggers, you have some competition. IF ONLY your readers knew that such magazines exist. Am i the only one discovering this??? Good thing my blog consists of topics i stumble upon while mothering. Whew no magazine about that. Or wait is that what Parents is about? Oye. 

So $100 later... i own 7 extra magazines. No newspaper. And clearly this delays my reading books. Should have gone to Target. 

 

I love a challenge

Who loves hearing "you can't possibly do this" or that? Me… Yes I'm strange. EVERYONE loves a challenge, right? Nothing gets me going more than "no way". Yes way. This may stem from my childhood, my issues with authority figures, or simply my desire to get-it-done. What better way to accomplish ANYTHING than by setting myself up publicly to do so…? No need to wait for January. That's SO predictable. I'm setting myself up to a personal challenge for the INSANITY month of December. No time like the crazy present, right?

Personal goal:

I'm gonna read. Like an actual paperback book… Or hardcover. Can't decide how wild i want to be. Not the kindle, not the internet on my phone, not my kids book because sadly enough that's a given.. A good-old-adult book. Still might be trash, but it's still a book. I got this.

Family goal:

I'm gonna hit up 3 Holiday Venues. With my kids in tow. Alone. I LOVE Christmas time but i do NOT LOVE the crowds. Like dread it. I map-out ways to get around crowds. I mentally sketch out my stroller route to avoid the crowds. I use the H&M elevators instead of mall elevators… i use the do-not-use-elevators-at-Ikea. Yes i don't like these crowds. The insane-you-have-lost-your-mind-crowds. The insane lines. But I got this… all 3 will take place in Atlanta. Wish me luck. Send me patience. If so inclined, send me liquor in small quantities. I gotta be present after all. I got this.

Hubby Goal:

I'm gonna dance… not the night away like all songs dictate. That's not a challenge, that's insanity. But anywhere anytime he asks… He LOVES to dance. Especially together. So that's my challenge. We shall see if he reads this challenge. Doesn't everyone just feel better to get a little cardio??? Side-note: this dates back to our very early days… he asked me to dance in a dead empty bar. No music. Not creepy dead bar, just it-is-passed-everyone-bedtime-dead-bar. Oh yeah he's THAT guy. He rocked it. Oh yeah i married THAT guy. I got this. 

Professional goal:

I'm sitting down and completing the dreaded: filling out THAT spread-sheet. Finances. I'm learning that my accountant may actually murder me if i don't keep better records. Sales, imports, taxes, that's easy. You export all that via website. It's the expenses, bloggers' gifts, and late-night Amazon purchases are little rougher to track. There's a lot… I know. I got this.

What about you??? What r u planning for January 2017? DO IT NOW. By the time January 1st hits, you'll have met your challenge. BAM. Done. 

Until next time...

 

What NOT to miss on Venice Beach

Venice beach is the MOST eclectic interesting insane and riveting beach-front EVER. Yes there's Mykonos, and there's Saint Tropez, and Bali. And there's Sardagnia, and there's the coast of Brazil (i feel like that must be eclectic) and there's Brac Island, Croatia (I'm told it's eclectic. it's on my list to visit). BUT none of them rival the spectacle of Venice Beach. I'm still a tourist in this town (you gotta be somewhere for at least decade to be local, right?), so I strolled Venice to discover, to see, and to enjoy the scenery.

We pick the day where the wind-advisory is on high alert on everyone's smart phone but ours. So we are greeted with sand EVERYWHERE. Like FLYING sand. Hello sand. I assumed it's supposed to rest calmly on the ground, and not on the sidewalk, in our mouths, or in the snack bag. NOT the snack bag!!! ANYHOW we think, we got this. Embrace this day when the sun, clouds, and wind are fighting for the sky space above us.  

While eating sand, this is my list of MUST-notice when you visit this little stretch of beach:

+Sea of Leather Jackets: is that an in-thing nowadays? I do own one… I think. They are flocking everywhere. It fits in across all ages, genders, nationalities, race, and socioeconomic groups. Insane. One item unifying them? Crazy right. I thought that item was denim. Apparently I'm not up to speed as I'm the only one wearing denim. But that's ok. I fit right in as all is welcome. 

+Green Doctors: EVERYWHERE. As popular as t-shirt stands. Nope not kidding. It is California after all. I'm told there's no actual doctor on site but you can get a script. I thought the one benefit of slaving away at medical school, residency, and fellowship, was the ability to write script, whether it's for a green substance or an assorted variety of colored pill. I guess I'm wrong or need to read-up on my California green laws. Keep u posted. 

+Pigeons Galore: they are simply taking on the sand storm like storm-troopers. Hitting each other to get a chance at scraps from my kids throwing dried fruit in their direction. My kids are OBSESSED with pigeons, so we never miss sighting them. And i guess you can't ever have too much pigeon poop nearby. I hear it's like a good-luck charm. Right?

+Plethora of Rainbow Wigs: some matching. Some not. Some on actual dressed-up clowns. Some just on Susie on this delightful Sunday. Some wearing just a wig. It's colorful. It's fun. It fits right in. 

+Art. All Kinds: body art.  street art. actual art on canvas. discount art. pornographic art. political art. All kinds. Some colorful. Some dark. Huge array for the eyes!  you look left, you might miss what's on the right. As the most-art-incapaciated-individual, I'm taking it in. No joke.

+Dancing: alone, among a crowd, in couples, with kids, with yourself. all is welcome. all is seen. Some with rhythm. Some without. Some with music. Some without. My kids take all this in. My youngest is particularly attracted to a group of 30 with tambourines, horns, and sticks on array of plastic bins. My son is mesmerized as he moves his arms in his own rhythm. Next: Beyonce's backup dancer. He's only 2, but he can move. 

+Just A Few T-Shirt stands: just a few. Clearly we bought some. Suckers. And gifts. Our families are gonna LOVE wearing "i love LA" t-shirts, and "i'm Mike's bitch" t-shirts. delightful. 

+Row of Palm Trees: it's truly breath-taking. Can't go to Southern California beaches, and not acknowledge these beauties. I tried to capture below the imperfect aligned trees. They are merrily planted there swaying with the wind. 

Clearly we will be back. On this particular Sunday afternoon, it was colorful.  Until the next adventure...

 

You know you are an 80s kid when...

How do you know you are a 80s kid? Simple. You are born in a year that starts with 1980-something. ALSO you don't identify with the cellphone generation… Some of us had cool beepers… And the internet. WHAT DID WE DO WITHOUT IT? Hence I STILL have the SAME yahoo-email-account from million years ago. With my maiden-name. Duh. I hold onto things in the past apparently. 

Here are the top 9 reminders:

1. You know Ace of Base. Like "know" them. Hearing their songs makes your heart ache or full. Or reminds you of that period of your life. 

2. You LOVE The Cranberries. They are awesome. Awesome. Who doesn't love Ode To My Family?

3. You LIVED in Jellies. Boys and girls. These plastics bad-for-environment-wonderful shoes (CA would probably ban them here, or have permanent tag stating that they are dangerous to children and pregnant woman) were a staple on all our feet.

4. You recognize the Floppydisk. Yes not all information comes on hard-drives, flash-drives, or no drive. I'm told about this cloud. Yes I'll check it out.

5. You enjoyed your TrapperKeeper, that was recycled year after year… No need to buy 17 boxes crayons, and 28 erasers, or 12 boxes of tissues (i can't even start to comment on this back-to-school-ridiculouslness). It was join us with your TK and call it a day. 

6. You were well aware of who JTT was…without googling. Boys and girls. Boys wanted to be him. Girls just wanted him. 

7. You used a plastic telephone plugged into a wall socket… Duh. They were SO cool. Yes cool. 

8. You used simple words like COOL. Google that. Pinterest-it. What's the wifi password. Douche. WERE NOT WORDS then. 

9. You had a pen-pal. Not a chat-room pal. Not Instagram-follower. Not Facebook friend. Like an actual person who wrote you letters. That was simply the BOMB. 

Oh boy. This post makes me look really young, or seasoned. I can't decide which. What is to come for my kids. That's for another day. Cheers. 

Foutas come in handy… ALWAYS

So it may not have been long enough but ANOTHER colorful-bodily-fluid-story is coming your way… I just can't help myself apparently. Or i just have two bodily-fluid-retaining-challenged-children. 

Let me set the scene: this is our first overnight-trip away from our new CA digs. I am SO excited as getting cabin fever. Just like many parents, I LOVE PACKING for 3 days. Not. It's basically like moving mountains. So much work only to forget things like, a pair of flip-flops for yourself. And a jacket for yourself. Your kids both have 5 sweaters, and 2 coats, and 3 hats. You? Sweater you are wearing… BUT WHY do they need 10 outfits. Well… they do. Back to the mountains, we chose  to head to the remote National Park Sequoia. BTW don't let this story dissuade you for going. It's breath-taking. It's splendid. It's full of silence, as you don't get cell signal. Delightful. The Best. Well not the best (Bryce Canyon wins that), but it's pretty awesome only 3.5hrs from LA. 

Back to the story: Sequoia, giant trees. Like GIANT trees. Seriously. Anyhow fall is in the air. Leaves are everywhere. Air is fresh. Crisp. I can feel my hubby taking deep breaths (and not because my kids are fighting). And kiddos are in car a LOT, and still alive. Behaving. Pointing at nature. Doing some sort of ah, oh, ah from the backseat with very minimal tears. Success. We even do small treks with minimal complete breakdowns. We picnic along a trail and don't get attacked by bears. Score. The youngest naps in car TWICE during one of our long stretches of joy car-riding. Double score. Oldest finally gets what she's been begging for: the iPad. Oh the stupid-life-saving-annoyingly-present-iPad. The car is quiet… Listening to nature. 

We are adventurers at heart. Kind of. We took a death-route in Yosemite pre-kids. Pre-smart. STILL we decide to take the scenic route (this route is RED on the map, NOT brown). We love red. Right. We got a car full of food, full of gas, and full of foutas in case we need to build a tent (i did say, overprepare in previous posts). We are doing this. Sequoia is a windy place… like 180 degree turns at 15mph every other 15 feet. We take it slow. Well not slow enough... We are enjoying the fresh breeze until its destroyed by a very distinct sound: puke. Not a little puke. A river. And it's projectile. Like projectile into the back of my head, onto ceiling of the car, spraying her own brother sitting besides her, catching the AC vent on the floor, and clearly drowning the Fouta Colors iPad.  I calmly furiously start sending wipes and more wipes in her direction, as the hubby tries to stop the car. One kiddo keeps vomiting, and naturally the other in total compassion starts dry-heaving. Awesome. Welcome back to parenthood. We had forgotten for split second we had kids… 

Back to the insane-overprepare-status : we are wipes-prepared. We have the good-toxic-chemical-wipes. We have hand-wipes. We have wipes to wipe her tear-striken-eczema-prone-face. And foutas work beautifully to give her a bath on the side of the road. Foutas work great as her new outfit (those 10 outfits are safely tucked back at the cabin). And foutas were wonderful to wipe up the galloons of fluid in the carseat. Yum. And best part: once we arrive safely to our cabin, the cleanup… TOSS ALL FOUTAS INTO WASH. Together. Simultaneously. And 55 minutes later, all sanitized. THE BOMB. 

Morale of story: bring on the vomit. We got wipes and foutas. And yes Sequoia is the bomb. 

 

We made it… THANK YOU.

SO drumroll please: Foutacolors.com is SIX MONTHS. WOOOHOOOO. YOUPIE. AHHHHHH. I wish i could figure out how to add emojis, because i would insert all emojis with a smile. That's for another day. Anyhow BIG DEAL right??? YES. Especially since it feels like it's been a DREAM. But the kind of dream that almost bordered on nightmare-please-let-this-be-done. Only a few times… It's crazy to be your own boss. Like really, this is it. Me, and my foutas. I still can't believe where i am as i type this… CRAZY last 6 months. 

Let's replay my last 6 months:

-launched MY BUSINESS (after hours and hours of sweat, debate, tears, smiles, fear, anger, and happiness)

-became an EXPERT at Customs and Border Protections, and Declarations, AND enforcement agencies at the ATL airport (and LAX, i must say ATL is LOT LESS friendly. LAX for the win)

-moved across the country with 1 husband, 2 kids, 1 dog, and 1/10 of our house. No comments needed. 

-threw our ATL house onto housing market (if interested in WONDERFUL home, let me know). AND snagged a wonderful rental house in the most DIFFICULT market EVER, aka Los Angeles CA. This was WAY more painful than putting house on market. Yeah. 

-got our oldest admitted, signed, and sealed into NEW school with NO TEARS. Took few LONG weeks… we got our system down. I BOLT for the door as she enters. Easy. 

-started blogging (NEVER THOUGHT I COULD DO THIS). I'm still learning...

-entered, and ATTENDED my first show (i didn't become suddenly "ill" and bail. That was my first strategy. That's a lie. I did hurl once… that's behind me NOW)

-perhaps met a business-changing connection (to be continued)... 

-joined kick-butt stroller class (i'm 6 weeks in and STILL sore almost daily). I must be doing something right?

-hit a personal record and hauled me, myself, and I to the beach FOUR TIMES in one week (oh yeah. don't be too jealous). Well, let's be honest the kids tagged along too… 

-got my youngest to unclench my leg for his FIRST DAY of preschool. well it's in 2 days. I'm jumping the gun by saying i accomplished this… BUT I'M READY. Him: not so much. Stay tuned. 

-discovered that i am indeed stubborn, and sticking this out… that particular one to be continued.

SO. In order for all this to happen, OUR world came together, and got us here. ALL because of the support of friends, family, acquaintances, customers, fans, FB fanatics, avid pinners,  and Instagram lovers. Thank YOU. We made it to 6 months BECAUSE of YOU. Thank You. 

SO. THANK YOU for the bottom of my heart. THANK YOU. Thank you for liking our images, reposting our FB statuses, pinning our boards, and BUYING. To the few ladies out there who get DAILY texts from me, and still find the time to answer, thank you. You are my lifeline.

To the man in my life: thank you for encouraging me, supporting me, and not telling me to shove it as i entered the world of entrepreneurship. Thanks for still loving me these past 6 months. 

Again THANK YOU. 

 

5 AMAZING tricks for this mama

I'm NOT a mothering expert. I'm a dont-do-this mothering expert. Always learning by trial-and-error. I'm collecting "said-no-mother-ever" moments. 

Here are my favorite tricks:

1. Overprepare. U think u need 4 wipes,  "ask" your toddler to help by taking 7 out of container. It gives u a double reason to hit up Target. Because you ALWAYS need diapers. might as well add wipes to the list of your $300 non-urgent-get-me-into-adult-world-shopping spree… 

2. Enjoy that $20/hr sitter… Your marriage will thank you. No additional comments needed. 

3. Eat just that ONE bite after your kid. Those SO don't count towards your Weight Watchers points… said every mother. And tomorrow morning, that stroller class won't be difficult at all…

4. Bring that fouta with you. it will serve as protection against the sun on the beach (your kids look like casper but that sunscreen bottle is currently located one mile from you nestled in the car). It will serve to wipe the boogers, tears, and sticking hands… no one can  possible imagine eating with their feet in the sand, only carrots in the sand, right. And it will also be used a butt-cover when your toddler blows out the only diaper you bought for your one-hour-outing. 

5. Don't listen to anyone but that voice in your head. We all live by trial, and start your own list of tricks or do-not-do-this. AMAZE your friends by sharing it proudly. 

6. Laugh about it and SHARE. There's no way you are the ONLY mom/wife/woman with that irrational fear, problem-child, or love issues. Let's drop this i-can-do-no-wrong, and embrace oh-you-gotta-hear-about-this. 

I added ONE trick for those paying attention… Until next time. 

 

This is how we beach…

As it is my personal mission statement to re-live EVERY major-parenting-fail-moment, this must be shared. Better laugh at yourself by sharing stories, then cry alone. Hence i'm sharing… As our dear daughter is 1/4 French (mom is 1/2, dad is 0. that makes a 1/4 right. Oye I'm in trouble for 3rd grade math homework), she's pretty comfortable being naked and peeing anywhere…. What does that say about how i see french people. Bush, behind a tree, side of road (FAR from the road i promise), our yard, neighbor's yard… Quite the nudest we have. Issues for her to discuss later on with her friends (or therapist). Every kid does this right? Anyhow back to the story at hand, she can go what seems like DAYS without asking to pee, EXCEPT at the beach. Yes before someone diagnoses her with a syndrome, YES she does pee many times each day, BUT she just disappears and goes. She no longer announces with joy, "i need to pee". Well she announces it often, i just no longer need to dart for the bathroom (potty training is its own BEAST. all non-parents, this story may not be to your liking). 

In her little brain, it's an engrained equation: feet-in-sand-miles-away-from-bathroom =  pee. We had just moved to CA and trekking kids to the beach was weekly occurrence. Yes we LOVE the beach. Still. And i say trekking because the collection of crap needed for a smooth beach trip is mind-blowing. I get the wagon method. EXCEPT between car and water, there's 4 miles of sand, so hubby isn't into towing a semi to get to the ocean. ANYHOW on this particular day, trekking her BACK to the overwhelmingly NASTY bathroom on the Santa Monica boardwalk wasn't high on our list. As we are totally improvise-in-the-moment-parents, we say quietly, just pee in the ocean. She looks at us for a minute, and pauses. She refrains from speaking. She continues to stay silent (this NEVER happens), and walks away. She holds her head high. Her polka dot sunglasses firmly placed on her nose, and her beautifully-fitted-UV-hat settled on her head. her striped two-piece UV bathing suit ready for anything. And with her puddle-jumper securely attached (fanciest non-drwoning mechanism I've ever seen. google it. Clearly safety first), she marches towards the water. The beach is packed (apparently that's rare occurrence for CA beaches), she looks left, she looks right, and squats. SQUATS RIGHT BY THE WATER. Like feet from the water. Not in the water. And squats. Apparently we failed to demonstrate or fully discuss this… We thought, she got this. Apparently she did have it. Just not exactly in the water.... So as all good parents do, we did not interfere. And pretended she wasn't ours for a few minutes. 

Stay tuned for what we improvised when she announced by SCREAMING "i need to caca"… That's for another day. Enjoy your weekend!

 

Foutas get me.

As i was blasting (music. refer to previous post clearly)… it hits me. Wow my product and i are one. Hang in there with me. I'll explain.

Like a ridiculous number of women/moms/ladies, I wear a giant hat/sombrero/chapeau with a million sections hanging onto dear life. No wonder i have a bad back… I'm a wife, mom, friend, sister, daughter, daughter-in-law, business owner, new blogger, instragram newbie, the list goes on…  I try to do it all. I try to say yes. I try… 

AND my product actually does it all… Foutas are the DEFINITION of versatile. It covers up a sofa covered in dog hair. Yes i should have vacuumed. and yes all guests deserve a place to sit down, right. And you should be allowed to wear white pants in my house without fearing its destruction by dog hair or sticky unknown substance...

-It can be delightfully and casually thrown over boxes in the hall to make it look like an artist lives here… Still figuring that style out. It snuggles with us in the early evening as my kids are "cold" as living in LA is causing their internal temperature to think 72 degrees is cold.

-It's also a staple in our beach bag, because come on, what kid should change into their water shoes on the actual sand. Ludicrous mother i am. I'm clearly evil. And no the sand is not hot. it's 8am when we hit Temecula beach and it's actually cold… 

-it's also a delightful blanket for the mall or grassy area (aka stroller class location), and the best to house all the trucks/cars from my car. It even welcomes other gremlins to join mine. All of this in an attempt to entertain my crazy-almost-2-years-old so i can focus on the workout at hand. 

-it also neatly sits on my neck on date night in our backyard, because my kids are right, LA nights are cold… And a sitter is only $million/hour. We shall reinvest our sitter money into fouta stock!

-it's also a delightful HUGE coverup. this body ain't made for shenanigans on the beach yet… well the shenanigans yes, the exposed part, not so much. So it fits me perfect at our perfect little beach spot. 

BUT. it's an object so it doesn't have feelings. when it fails, it doesn't know. On the other hand, I'm acutely aware of failures and disappointments. Also the mom-guilt is set deep into my core. So when it's looking like i'm gonna fail at one of my duties, i think, foutas got it good. Maybe i'll abandon my duties and go read with a fouta… I think this. A lot. I don't actually do this… until next time. 

So cheers to foutas… helping me along my journey to try do it all… one try at a time. 

 

Oh… Here comes the family.

Who wants to read more about my wonderful shining family? NO ONE. Let's be honest, ALL families have all those moments of bliss and those moment are often when a camera or iPhone is nearby. So no need for sappy pictures to illustrate where i come from. So i thought i would illustrate my family with QUOTES. They didn't sign disclosure agreements (in this day of age, i probably should have cleared it by them. They'll forgive me, right.), nor did they pick their quote. Enjoy. Clearly my parents are top line… I'm second child with a hubby and 2 descendants. Enjoy. 

MUST-haves for this small business owner

While i was in the process of sweating out 2 liters of water, electrolyte, and sanity (attending 9am stroller class. If you've had kids, these magical-3-wheels-apparatus are meant to carry kids. My gremlins find my arms much more soothing. anyhow i do own 5 strollers - no judgments, so i attend stroller class),  a fellow mom (aka potential client, potential friends, or just potential i-will-never-see-you-again person) asks me: what are your must-cant-live-without-items for working? I said easy: no kids in house, no food in sight, no TV shows on, no mention of housework, and clean sink. Basically, my perfect setups is living on a dude-ranch in Wisconsin. Turns out, she was serious. I see sarcasm everywhere, and boy did i read her wrong. She's in process of launching a small business (her former self was a consultant for a fortune 500 company before she decided her mom-title was much more her style), and was getting her website up to speed to today's standards. 

Sadly enough, i did not get to share my 5 MUST-HAVES, because she switched stroller classes. Just kidding. She's just too fit so doesn't need to sweat. Just kidding, she moved. I think. Anyhow, if i had thought on my feet, my list would look something like this:

Diet coke: i've kind of shielded my reading audience from this addiction, i call my crack. But it's a must on the desk to write, edit, fill orders, sort emails, and doodle. Its also a must in my living room, car, and on walks… yes admitting the problem is the first step, I'm way ahead of you. 

Cozy Ugly Chair: i never get to sit without being attacked by plastic trucks, or Elsa doll, so a cozy high-back chair is the bomb. I think i learned that proper desk ergonomics is a good idea. I'm also not one of those serious business-woman who need beautiful furry chairs… that's just inviting a nap. I need to focus in my ugly chair. 

Pen and Paper: yes i'm old and i like paper. you know the thing you touch, and you write on… I NEED my notebook near me. AT-ALL-TIMES. And pretty pens… NO i don't share these supplies with my kids. they have a FULL cabinet of stuff. My $12.99 pen is MINE. And all 6 colors are mine. 

External hard drive: like a good one. One that has space that will last u a lifetime. Yes i'm aware of the "Cloud", but folks like me like to touch their storage space… It also turns out running a business takes up a lot of time AND space on your computer… Like a LOT. As i refuse to buy another computer, it doubles for personal use (aka checking email, printing kids' show-and-tell pictures, and shopping on Pinterest), and professional use (EVERYTHING business-related happens on my computer). 

Apps, and more apps: this borders almost on social media… I WONT list the social media involved. SO in no specific order, i use every minute of my working day, WordSwag (photo editing and content tweaking), ColorEffects (add splash color in pics) Quickbooks (yes the dreaded financial aspect of business. AND you don't need degree to navigate this app. Also on my computer. AND its loaded into the "Cloud"), and Squarespace (so i can have a functional website platform), and Stripe (so i can get paid… duh). Paypal is COMING, so add that one.  

Feel free to drop me a note. WHAT else am i missing??? I know there are millions of ways to work, and would love to hear from all the readers. Small or big ideas. I welcome all.

Enjoy your day. 

 

Your Name says it all...

Two years ago tonight, I vividly remember eating Italian food (goat-cheese-stuffed-ravioli accompanied by white creamy delicious cream sauce. All smothered with sprinkles parmesan. I did say VIVIDLY), while contemplating how much i was gonna miss being a mother of 1… I was hours away from being a mother of 2. AND mother of a boy. In my fantasy world, i was going to be the BEST mother of ALL girls. And ONLY girls. Girls and I are tight. I got this. I'm a girl. Who hard can RAISING a girl be… And Boys and me are just… Complicated. That's another story. Point is: i can't possibly be responsible for raising a boy. That's just SO TOO complicated, and WAY above my head. Well… i was doing such a stellar job raising my girl gremlin, why not try it with a boy gremlin… I'm told boy gremlins LOVE LOVE LOVE their mommies. Alright. Fine. Universe tossing me a bone… 

Back to the story: if you've ever been pregnant or ever been in the same room as a pregnant woman, you have been witnessed to the excruciating emotional roller coaster that brings havoc to all lives. This starts from the moment you even discuss getting pregnant. No joke. So i was 9 months in, with a wild toddler by my side. And AGONIZING about the fact that my dear boy was exiting the womb WITHOUT a name…. A name is EVERYTHING. It's what your nickname is based on. It's what you carry from your parents. It's the ONLY and LAST thing we pick before you have an opinion. And we didn't have one. Unlike for our #1, for whom we had 11 names on our bank of name on our iPhones. And voila for a boy. NONE. No bueno at all. 

Crying about it wasn't helping… i tried that a lot. Screaming at my dear husband wasn't helping. I tried that even more. Thinking about it a million hours a day letting it consume me wasn't helping. i did that from the moment i heard BOY. So after 7 months of these shenanigans, we decided that in this moment of emotional intensity, we are going with the flow, and wing this. Let big sis name him for all we care. It doesn't matter. Well that didn't work either… I relaxed for all of  2 seconds. 

So on that night, we seriously contemplated his name… We calmly discussed it over my ravioli like civilized folks. Only one name stood out above all others: Blaise. Child #1 couldn't pronounce it, hubby's cheeks sunk in when he said it. I kindly tilted my head when hubby kept using the name in sentences… ah whatever. Clearly this was the winner. Thinking whatever while naming your child must work, right…? We were good. Now we could go to the maternity ward in the morning, and let them cut him out. Now i can sleep (insert MASSIVE sarcasm emoji). 

Fast-forwarding past fasting for 12hours, gruesome delivery, syncopal episode (look it up if unfamiliar), and sensational drugs that only worked on one side of my body, I graciously allowed my OB to professionally cut out my child from my uterus for the second time. Awesome. Here comes our little giant weighing in at 10lbs3oz. What a catch. I lost instantaneously 10lbs, best diet ever. Once reunited, we look at his giant bald head and cellulite. In unison, we say that's not a Blaise. We look away and say that's Mathieu. Done. Sealed. Next.  

It isn't a coincidence that this beast of a hurricane MATTHEW is coming onto land and pouncing on FL/SC/GA/NC tonight… as my own storm bounced onto this earth exactly 2 years ago. Turns out, his name is quite fitting. Come on, who are we kidding, Blaise? It's not Apple, North, or Sunshine, but just as ridiculous for our family… We prefer our little giant. Happy Birthday my little giant. Our pumpkin. 

Stay safe everyone on East Coast. Hunker down. Keep some water, wine, diet-coke, and bread close. Ramen too. 

Do you blast? You should.

Nothing better to tune out your crazy gremlins living in your small house…. then to BLAST music. Like BLAST. Like blast so loud you can hear your mother or your own brain say, "TURN IT DOWN". Nope. I need to focus. I'm still from the generation where BLASTING music is in. I think. 

When i work, aka fill orders, think creatively (yes that does happen), address packages, add love-notes to clients (you gotta be a client to find out what that means), or bang out a blog post, i BLAST. Randomly one night in past week, i wrote down the song titles that get me going… It's actually comical. 

This is a glimpse at my line-up:

Call on me (by Eric Prydx): takes you back to the good-old-days of primary school… Or high-school. Definitely not middle-school. Well.. Think of whatever year of schooling that makes u feel cool. Embrace that special moment. Yes call on me. BUT especially when my hand IS raised. (By the way, if i'm looking away locking eyes with anyone but you, forgive me i didn't read the actual book for book club). ANYHOW In today's world, it's ALL about being called on in this virtual crazy world, known as ONLINE…  Since launching myself ONLINE, aka this small business called Fouta Colors, i've learned a few things… THE GOAL is not to be discrete and keep to yourself. It's to engage. It's a crazy concept involving being called-out with emojis winking at you, aka asking you to collaborate on Instragram entry… anyone? If u over the age of 48, google emoji. Or if u've been living under a rock (side-note a BFF had to show me how to access emojis on my phone… like a year ago. So don't feel bad, google it). 

Chase You Down (by Runaground): um… I'm not THAT desperate for sales. Am i? Or does this refer to chasing my kids so they don't get hit by a bicycle (true story. people in CA take bike lines VERY seriously) or car? 

Lights (by Ellie Goulding): may be there lights, action, and dancing. I haven't gotten the desire to stand up and twerk (yes i do know what that is), but maybe… Maybe if Madonna comes onto my apple radio… Again above the age of 48, google my friend. And don't do this googling at work. 

Cool girl (by Tove Lo): well yes i am. and i hope that this artist butchered the name given to him by parents… because that's not pretty. Who names their kid TOVO… But certainly original. This artist MUST live in California. 

I remember (by Deadman5 & Kaskade): well let's be honest, i don't remember. i forget the laundry and re-wash most laundry 3 times before it makes it to dryer… I forget to get basic things to cook, like the actual chicken for a chicken tortilla soup… I forget a lot... It could be worst… I have yet to forget my kids at various places. I think i'm doing mighty good. BUT i do always remember how many DIET COKES are in the house. That, i'll remember. Priorities. Survival. Addiction. If only i was addicted to carrots…

Broccoli (by D.R.A.M): I'm not joking. Broccoli is the title. its a pretty vile song too… i'll spare u details of lyrics, but google it when wearing headphones. This applies to all. Not just those over age 48. BTW Don't let your kids listen to this one. Don't let the delicious veggie-titled-song steer you wrong. 

This Girl (by Kungs and Cookin' on 3 burners): i couldn't even come up with these band's name if i tried… I gotta educate myself on these 3 burners as sounds like terrible way to cook. My only cooking involves only 2 burners going at one time...

False Alarm (by Matoma & Becky Hill): ANY person of childbearing age or in a relationship with a woman of childbearing age can only think of one thing when they see "false alarm": the baby is indeed asleep, false alarm. Agh if i had a penny for every phantom cry… I can't even finish this sentence. Next. 

Call on me (by Eric Prydx): yes just download this one already. Seriously. And when kids are crying, whining, or hungry, blast it. This is appropriate for all ages. 

Blast. Blast. Blast. It's appropriate for all, below and above 48. Just ask my mother.