Sex In My City

Are you looking for a family activity that's heavily laced with a dose of awwwwkward? Have I got the film for you! During my stay in Orygun, my sisters and I had decided that we'd establish one of the nights as a "sister night", eating lunch in town and then heading over to Granny and Papa's to watch movies, eat popcorn and chocolate and talk as sisters will. Old Man Weather decided to foil our plans, closing the road between our house and town, so Myrtle was not able to partake in the sister fun. However, my recently upgraded extended-cut version of the SATC movie would not be put on the back burner, so I decided "What the heck...let's watch it tonight after the kids go to bed."

Right. So that means my senior citizen (but not lacking in good humor) conservative parents, my aunt The Nun, J, Milly and I would be settling in for an evening with my best girls; Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte. Before starting the film, I noted that my aunt was sequestered in the back room, and would not be joining us...maybe for the best, but I'm known to always push the envelope on appropriate.

I began to put the DVD in the player and halted. I first had to explain the ground rules, because this movie is not called Chastity and the City. While there would be multiple sex scenes, they are not for the purpose of eroticism, but as tasteful exemplars of humor and relationship status. My mother impatiently retorted "Like we don't know anything about sex, Sally." Fine. Close. Menu. Play. Ahhh...the familiar sights and sounds of fashion, men and friendship began rolling across the screen.

As usual, my mom was settled on the couch with one eye glancing at her current smut novel and the other watching the TV. I made sure she knew that I wouldn't be answering her questions if she couldn't deign to give the movie her full attention. Commence the first sex scene...my mom is feigning embarrassment until I pointed out the irony that she could comfortably read about a man putting his throbbing member into some one's slick womanhood in the latest Kathleen Woodiwiss, but was not able to maturely watch a sex scene between two married people...with clothes on their top halves.

A little later into the film, my mom started picking at Miranda calling her a 'whiner' and then eventually a "snaggle-toothed brat". My dad, who was trying his darnedest not to express how much he was actually enjoying the witty banter tempered with sexual tension that is Sex and the City retorted back "Kind of like you, Mama?" As a side note, my mom has often compared herself to the Ipana toothpaste beaver, so this comment was not entirely off-base. After about the fifth such comment about the character with whom I've often identified the most, my dander was up. 'Shut! Up!' I said, to which my mom appeared wounded and said "At least you didn't use a four letter word on me." (referring to an earlier even more awkward repartee in which I let slip a question of her that included the f-word as an adjective). Milly, the English teacher, without missing a beat replied "Yes she did. Shut." Ahhh. Point two for the Little Girls.

The rest of the movie flew by with only a couple more incidences. One during the scene at the rehearsal dinner a painting on the wall is seen in the background that is Michaelangelo-esque and a Oui-Oui can be seen. Milly had to vocalize it in the form of a question, of course only to be called a "penis peeker" by my mother (now who's inappropriate?); having long since put her book down, giving the movie her full attention.

J still thinks he's hilarious for his annoying (if not a little true) comparison of the SATC characters with the cast of The Golden Girls. This first came up when he told me they had a second movie in the works. When I wouldn't believe him, he said "Yeah, The Golden Girls." Because, and only because, I couldn't pass up the chance to illustrate my wicked literary skills, I said "Ha! SATC: The Golden Years."

When it was over, I anxiously asked my dad what he thought...I know he really liked it, it is the man who

You may be appalled that I viewed the movie with my parents, but they read my blog everyday and they "knew what I was when they picked me up."

The extended version has some cute scenes in it, and is well worth the extra $10 (I think) and that doesn't even include the gems I'm sure to find on the second disc, including a downloadable digital copy and an interview with SJP.

My M&M's

Since you're most likey ready to pop from all the candy you've consumed out of your stocking...come see how it could be even more fun! M&M's have a new personalization service.

Pump Up the Jam

Did you know about Safeway's PowerPump program? Earn double rewards now through Christmas Day! You can get more details, as well as information to find a participating Safeway near you, at Knitty Reviews.

Time Travel

Flying to Oregon my brain was on overdrive, so excited to finally be home again, home again jiggety jig. Traveling with two young children is decidedly easier with the husband in tow, but I did find that I had fairly well organized my little entourage to the point that all J had to do was take H for a couple walks during our four hour layover. Alex had given H some Elmer's stamps that stamp only on the pad of paper provided. Having a McDonald's and restroom within spitting distance of our gate also ensured that we would have a rather uneventful stay at Midway. Despite leaving a State of Disaster and arriving in Arctic Blast (which brought snow and ice rendering the city paralyzed), we had no delays and arrived at midnight to the hotel where we were spending our first night, ready to pass out in the comfort of the two queen beds; each manning a child.

A mere three hours later, I heard what I thought were the rumblings of a distant DV incident, but were really J explaining to H quite delicately that it was nowhere close to time to wake up. A cry of "I peed!" brought J jumping out of his bed, rushing to the bathroom with H. A quick change of the diaper and pj's and we were ready to fall back into blissful slumber.

Or not.

3am Pacific is 6am Eastern, so H had technically fulfilled his sleep quota. He was up for the day. I thought that we (and in this case I must mean the royal we, as J was already drifting back into dreamland...oh, to be a man.) may be able to eek out a few more minutes of sleep by just turning on the TV and 'resting my eyes', but C chose that moment to announce that he wasn't really all that sleepy anymore either.

I tossed back the covers and jumped in the shower, (Tag! J, you're it!) welcoming the warm spray and the sloughing away of airport grime. There's nothing like cross-country travel with kids to make you feel fresh as a daisy. After I was done getting ready, we decided to go get breakfast, and my heart sank as imagined the local IHOP when one of the things I'd been most looking forward to was all the great breakfast places; Cadillac Cafe, Mother's Bistro, Rose's Deli (just to name a few)...a far cry from the offerings of White City. When you're traveling on a budget, it just felt so sad to spend you first vacay money on airport food with a chaser of Denny's. I had a sudden resolve to not eat crap food for breakfast. Driving away from the hotel, J remarked that we were like fugitives; checking into a hotel at midnight with our little kids and then slinking out again before 6am.

After double-checking the business hours of one of our fave restaurants with no dice, we remembered The Reedville Cafe, which has a great breakfast menu, awesome french toast and other specials and is really family friendly. As providence would have it, it opened 5 minutes before we pulled in.

I loved every morsel of my eggs Florentine and three cups of coffee, then rushed to my best friend's house as it was now the every-parent decent hour of 8am. And we'd already been up for five hours.

Did I mention that I'd failed to sleep the night before leaving? Apparently, I was so excited, I forgot to go to bed. I kept looking at the mountain of clothes and diapers, the over to the three suitcases and it just seemed like too much to commence, so I knit more of the socks I'm working on, watched a little Law and Order while doing laundry and just generally procrastinated the task of packing. Before I knew it, it was 5am and I'd yet to hit my head to the pillow. Three hours of sleep is paltry on its own, but when it's all you get in 72 hours, it leaves a little to be desired.

Yesterday, I made it through a busy day of meeting with old friends, touring the new building of my old job, lunch at Burgerville (Sweet Potato Fries, yum!) and a dinner at Cafe Mingo with my best friend, her family and another couple with their kids where I was barely able to hold it together while H cried loudly after being awoken on the short walk from the car to the restaurant. Luckily, we'd had the foresight to inquire about their private room, so it was almost like having dinner at one of their homes without the work of cleaning for and preparing a meal. By the time the calamari came out, H was sleeping on a bed of coats and I was happily finishing my second glass of wine.

At home, with all the kids asleep, we got to stay up and visit hitting the sack at about midnight. It's now 5am, and I've been up for over an hour. What? What's that you're asking? Where's my husband? Right. He's upstairs. Asleep. And I'm not one bit bitter. Nor did I make any snarky comments about his level of helpfulness as I awoke. And I won't be rude to him when his well-rested ass finally makes it downstairs. Or hold it against him the rest of the day. I. am. Zen. Mother.

Namasté.

Mirror Mirror

We made it safely to Oregon, just in time for my first 'guest post'. Check it out at GNM Parents