Wanda Says…What happens on the island, stays on the island. Mostly.

October 9, 2014 / Wanda / 5 Comments

Last weekend my husband and I went to Catalina Island for a wedding. Yeah, it wasn’t rough.

One of Dan’s fraternity brothers from college was getting married, and although it was a small wedding, the list of people invited ensured that the weekend would involve three days of organized hilarity and madness, which is just what this newly-turned 40 year old, sometimes depressed stay-home mom needed.

The weekend was fantastic! You have to take a boat or helicopter from one of the ports in and around southern California to reach the island. It’s about an hour and twenty minute trip by boat. On our trip out there, our boat was escorted by a large school of dolphins. It was incredible! The dolphins played and danced in the waves alongside the boat, and stayed with us for several miles. There were baby dolphins as well, and my husband was hanging off the side of the boat to capture these pictures.

The island is very small, so cars are a rarity and you either walk everywhere or rent golf carts. We stayed at a beautiful hotel located on the main street, ate fresh seafood at restaurants overlooking the bay, and the Catalina Air Show provided some very exciting entertainment. Planes of all varieties were swooping and diving, skimming the water as the pilots showed off their mad skills. The most exciting moments though were when an F-18 fighter jet practiced maneuvers over the island as part of the show. I can honestly tell you, that was some sexy shit. When that jet flew overhead, the noise was deafening, the walls of the restaurant rattled and every cell in my body jumped to attention. I kept looking around, waiting for Maverick and Goose to stroll into the bar so I could buy them a beer.

It was a Sunday wedding, and Mimosas were served on the lawn overlooking the bay with palm trees and blue skies as far as the eye could see. It was truly an incredible place to get married.

I had planned to write a very detailed blog post, sharing all the bad behavior and drama that ensued over the weekend. Then I realized some of our friends might not appreciate that, because you know, what happens on the island….

So out of respect for our friends, I will refrain from posting any embarrassing stories or moments that could be traced back to the not-so-innocent. But I will share this one tiny little bit of detail…while partying at the bar after the wedding, SOMEONE licked the chest, and chest hair, of the guy who officiated the wedding. After observing this icky display of drunken madness, I looked at my husband and said, “That dude is not a man of God.”

Wanda Says…Do these wrinkles make me look wrinkly?

September 30, 2014September 30, 2014 / Wanda / 2 Comments

Lately I’ve been having a lot of facial skin issues and it’s stressing me out. I’m a firm believer in rocking what you’ve got, and my good skin has always been an asset that I don’t mess around with. I buy good skin care products, wash my face every day and moisturize.

I don’t know if it’s my hormones, but the texture of my face right now is similar to that of a 13-year old girl. I haven’t had to buy Clearasil since I was a freshman in college. Last week, I had to go buy a tube of that shit, and guess what? It doesn’t work! It’s like I have mutated, zit cream resistant acne. I had to go through puberty once to become a woman, and now I have to go through it twice to become an older woman? WTF?

Now let’s talk about all the wrinkles and lines that have appeared on my face in the past month or so. It’s like I just woke up one morning with crow’s feet and saggy eyelids.

I’m pretty conservative with makeup during the week since I’m usually home with my kids. If my husband and I have a date or plans to go out with friends, I will wear more makeup, depending on the occasion. But I’ve noticed lately that even my makeup is aging me. For example, any eye-shadow with a shimmer to it makes me look like an old hooker. And despite the fact that I don’t wear a ton of makeup, when I do it’s like it just settles into all the lines in my face, making me look like one of those Shar Pei dogs. (And if you’ve been reading my blog from its inception, you know how I feel about being compared to dogs!)

So today I went to Sephora seeking the advice and support from cosmetic and skin care professionals. I’m typically leery of asking for help in that store, because it’s so easy for them to ply you with over-priced makeup and products, convincing you that you need all this crazy stuff if you want to be beautiful. It can be overwhelming, and I’m already vulnerable and feeling insecure about my appearance. Today, I was their perfect customer. It went like this:

Me: Hi. I need help (cringe) picking out some new foundation. The one I’ve been using is a powder and it’s making my fine lines appear worse.

Sales Girl: Are you wearing a primer?

Me: No. What’s a primer?

SG: Well, that is part of your problem! (She parks me in front of the makeup mirror and hands me a makeup remover towel). Clean all the makeup off your face and we will start from scratch!

Me: (thinking, “Oh Fuck! I’m in for it now!”)

SG: We are going to start with something called a Truth Serum! This is a fantastic product that has Vitamin C and it’s essential for hydration, brightening the skin, anti-aging and protection. You will love this, and the small bottle is only $48.00! Don’t you just love that citrus scent? It’s so refreshing! Now I am going to apply this moisturizer, and then some makeup primer. The primer fills in all the lines and wrinkles. It’s basically like spackle for your face! Isn’t that fantastic! Oh, look how much better you look already! Now we will apply some foundation…whah, whah, whah, whah, whah, whah (to be read like the adult voices in all the Charlie Brown shows.)

And what’s sad is that I’m so desperate to resolve these skin issues and get back to normal, I allowed myself to drink the Kool-Aid. I allowed myself to be worn down emotionally by a barely 22 year old girl with no wrinkles wearing enough makeup to make her look like a clown, or an extra in an 80’s Robert Palmer video. I’m not proud.

I walked out of there with a whole new skin care system (including the Truth Serum), Mark Jacobs foundation, fancy makeup primer (spackle) and new mascara for just under $200.00. My silver lining is that Sephora has a great return policy. If it doesn’t work or you don’t like it, and you’ve used less than 50% of the product and have your receipt, you can return anything. It sort of takes the sting out of buying a $30.00 tube of spackle. 🙂

Wanda Says…On my daughter’s opinion of chest hair.

September 26, 2014 / Wanda / 6 Comments

I took the kids to their swim lesson this afternoon, and on the way there I explained to them that they have a new swim instructor. The conversation went like this:

Bryn: Who’s the new teacher?

Me: His name is Stephen.

Bryn: A boy?! Will he be wearing a shirt in the pool?

Me: I don’t know. Why do you ask?

Bryn: Ugh, Mom! (eye roll) Chest hair! Blech!!!!!!!!!!

Me: (laughing my ass off)

Bryn: I don’t want to touch his chest hair! That is so gross!

Me: (still laughing) 🙂

Wanda Says…Ten minutes can save your life.

September 25, 2014January 11, 2026 / Wanda / 2 Comments

I had my first mammogram today. One of the many perks of turning 40.

I’ll admit that until this week, I hadn’t really thought much about it. To me, having a mammogram was just one of those things that women should do. Breast cancer doesn’t run in my family, and although I’ve known people who had the disease and survived it, it’s one of those many things in life that you don’t internalize too much until it relates directly to your own life. It wasn’t until my doctor ordered the exam that I was like, “Oh shit. This is something I need to think about now.”

Isn’t that true for many of us? It sounds a little selfish, but the reality is that we cruise through our days, living our own journey, sharing in others, but we remain predominately caught up in our own family needs and issues. We can sympathize with people who have experienced cancer and other aggressive diseases, but it’s not until the potential threat is at our own doorstep, or the doorstep of our family and friends, that we sit up and take some serious notice. Nobody expects it to happen to them, right?

My doctor requested the mammogram for purely preventative reasons. I have no symptoms to speak of, and it makes good sense. However, I’ve known other healthy women who had routine mammo’s and received the shock of their lives when they discovered the disease was present in their bodies. It could happen to me. It could happen to you.

So I had the procedure, and it wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t great, and I had to grit my teeth and take some deep breaths to prevent myself from cursing loudly in front of the very sweet, older woman who was performing my exam. I had some anxiety before having the procedure, just thinking about all the “what ifs?” and her kind, soft demeanor did much to comfort and calm me, so I didn’t want to alarm or disrespect her by dropping a “Motherfucker!” loudly, while my boobs were being smashed into a vice.

The procedure took ten minutes from start to finish. It’s amazing to think that ten simple minutes can save your life.

Despite the discomfort, I’m glad I did it. I’m glad my friends are doing it. I’m glad my mother, and grandmothers, and aunts are doing it. And I’ll be glad if you do it, too. We’re worth it. You are worth it.

Now go have your boobies smashed and have a nice day! 🙂

Wanda Says…Happy Birthday, Bryn!

September 23, 2014 / Wanda / 4 Comments

My best girl turns ten today! My sweet, loving, hilarious, sassy little angel is ten!

Where did the last ten years go? How did she grow so fast? She’s almost as tall as I am! I still remember how small and perfect she felt in my arms when she was born. I remember staring at her beautiful face and thinking, “I never want to forget this. I never want to forget how little, and perfect, and amazing you are, right at this moment.” I said that to myself every day when I held and snuggled her, for years.

Well, now my baby girl is not so little. Thankfully, she still likes to be held and snuggled by her mommy, despite the fact that she is only a few inches shorter than me. Bryn has grown into a wonderful girl, and I can see glimpses of the young woman she is becoming, and it makes me so proud.

Bryn loves animals and is obsessed with cats. We would have a herd of them if Bryn had her way. She is compassionate and sensitive, and will become emotional if she sees others who are suffering or unhappy. She will go out of her way to mediate disagreements among her friends or classmates. She has a wickedly smart sense of humor and she makes us laugh every day. She is so smart, and more than one teacher has told us that Bryn is the kind of student every teacher wishes to have in class. She is fiercely protective of her little brother, and when he was born, she told all of her friends that they weren’t allowed to touch her baby. She loves tennis and is learning to play the flute. She hates dolls and most girly things, but she plays video games like a boss, and has hand eye-coordination so good that playing sports seems almost effortless to her. These are just a few insights into her personality and temperament, but what it all boils down to is that my girl is amazing.

As a mom, I often write down funny conversations or things that happen with my kids.You know, as ammunition for when they get older. The threat of embarrassment can be a powerful tool to wield over teenagers when the time comes, and I won’t be afraid to use it. So, in honor of Bryn’s birthday, I thought I would share some of her funny stories.

*One day we were watching an episode of the Ellen Show, and a studio guest was doing a dance that involved some elaborate pelvic thrusting. Bryn was watching and casually said, “That’s called the nuggets dance.”

*A conversation with Bryn about cats:

Bryn: Mommy, I can speak Cat now, and Oliver (our cat) told me that he loves me and trusts me.

Me: Really? What does he have to say about the time last year when you locked him in the bathroom cabinet because you thought it would be funny?

Bryn: Well I was a lot younger then, and I didn’t speak Cat!!!!!

*A couple of years ago, Bryn was standing next to me as I changed her brother’s diaper. The conversation went like this:

Bryn: I’m sure glad I don’t have a big snout like that.

Me: It’s not a snout. It’s called a penis.

Bryn: Well, I bet having a penis is a lot of fun.

Me: Why do you think it’s fun?

Bryn: Because boys can do fun things with their penis, like write their name when they pee. Girls can’t do that.

*A conversation between me and Bryn on New Year’s Eve as we were lying together on the couch:

Me: What’s that smell? Did you fart?

Bryn: Yes, I farted.

Me: Well stop it. That really stinks. Or go in the other room.

Bryn: But I want to be with you.

Me: (3 minutes later) Is that you again?

Bryn: YES! I farted, again! I can’t stop! It’s the stinkiest New Year’s Eve ever!!!

*Another conversation between me and Bryn sometime last February:

Bryn: Mom, do you want to know how lions and cheetahs mate?

Me: (starting to sweat because I’m not prepared to have this conversation with her yet, even if it’s about animals.) Ummm, I know how they mate, but I’m curious to hear your version of it.

Bryn: Well, the female lies down on the ground and the male bites the back of her neck and leaves a mark. Then they don’t see each other for awhile, and then they have cubs. I saw it on Animal Planet.

Me: (feeling relieved and trying not to laugh at the same time) Well, okay. Technically, that’s sort of accurate.

* A conversation between me and Bryn on March 21, 2014:

Bryn: Your pimples look really small right now.

Me: I don’t have any pimples! (I’m a little annoyed and offended over this comment).

Bryn: Yes you do. The black spots in your eyes look small.

Me: Those are called pupils, not pimples! There’s a big difference!

*November 17, 2013: While shopping in Target today, a woman approached Bryn and I and invited Bryn to participate in a talent scouting event being held at a nearby hotel. One of the girls from a Disney show was going to be there promoting the event, while they look for new young talent. Bryn was polite to the woman but didn’t act very interested. When I asked her if she wanted to go she says, “I want to be the person who makes the movies mom, not the person who acts in them.”

Annnnd, that’s my girl! 🙂

Wanda Says…Waiting for Superman.

September 20, 2014 / Wanda / 12 Comments

It’s here. I couldn’t stop it from happening. For some reason that I don’t fully understand, I’ve been dreading this milestone birthday, and Superman didn’t show up to gallantly circle the earth at inhuman speed backwards to reverse time so I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I am now 40. Fuck you, Superman.

I woke up this morning and found myself continuously fighting back tears, despite the kisses and hugs and shouts of ‘Happy Birthday’ from my family. I didn’t want to appear sad or ungrateful in front of them, so I smiled and thanked them for their love. My son was so excited, and he dragged me by the hand downstairs because he wanted to present me with my birthday balloons. (My husband and I always set up balloons and decorations after the kids go to bed the night before their birthday, so when they wake up it’s like the birthday fairies visited to surprise them). But there were no balloons. Bryce looked confused. He stood there looking around the empty living room and said, “Mommy, where are your balloons?” He doesn’t understand that these things don’t just magically happen. All I could say was, “I don’t know, buddy.”

My husband could tell I was emotional and asked if everything was ok. I told him it was fine. He had this look on his face like he was disappointed that I wasn’t more excited to face the day. I know it sounds terrible, but I don’t feel like this birthday is any more special or different than any other, and the truth is that I wanted this birthday to be special. I’m 40. I suppose I was hoping for something out of the ordinary to help ease the transition. I didn’t get to do anything exciting for my 30^th birthday. While all my friends were throwing themselves big, elaborate parties to celebrate entering their 30’s, on my 30^th I was 9 months pregnant and having contractions. So I spent my birthday lying on the couch enjoying a celebratory pizza. I gave birth to my daughter four days later.

A group of my college friends and I had been planning a 40^th birthday trip to Mexico. Since we all turn 40 this year, we picked a weekend to celebrate all of our birthdays together. Unfortunately, I had to cancel the trip for myself due to some financial constraints. The trip is coming up next month and I’m disappointed and sad that I’m not going. Most of my close friends live in other parts of the country, so I tend to feel isolated out here in LA. I’ve also been missing my family and the support and unity that come from living close to people who have known you your whole life. This is a big part of the depression I’ve been experiencing. I miss my people.

So this morning, as I faced the fact that I am now a member of the 40 club, I allowed myself to have a few minutes of privacy so that I could host my own little pity party. I cried and processed through my feelings. I cried for missing my best friends. I cried for missing my family. I cried for all the safe choices I’ve made and the risks I didn’t take in the last 40 years that have prevented me from doing much of anything that I could look back on and say, “Wow, that was so amazing and I can’t believe I did that!”

When I was finished feeling sorry for myself, I dried my tears and reminded myself that attitude is everything, and I have always been a badass, take charge kind of girl. I reminded myself that I am responsible for my own happiness, and it’s up to me, and only me, to change my attitude and embrace this new chapter in my life. Sometimes you have to be your own Superman. Sometimes the people who love you are so busy taking care of you in other ways, that they can’t foresee and anticipate all of your emotional needs. Sometimes you have to save your own day.

When I accepted this and embraced my new attitude, so many wonderful things happened. I had an amazing lunch with my dear friend and neighbor. She took me to a fantastic seafood restaurant down by the beach and we enjoyed several gourmet small plates, all made from fresh caught seafood. (One of the benefits of living alongside the Pacific Ocean). When I arrived home, there was a vase filled with beautiful multi-colored roses waiting for me, and my husband went to my favorite bakery to get a sampling of all my favorite cupcake flavors. The day was starting to look up.

That evening, my husband made dinner reservations for us at our favorite sushi restaurant. At first I was a little surprised that he chose this particular restaurant because we go there frequently. It’s sort of our go-to sushi spot and part of our ordinary routine. I thought to myself, “What’s special about that?” But my new attitude prevented me from suggesting we go someplace else. He made the effort to arrange our dinner and make the reservation, so I would appreciate his thoughtfulness and enjoy our date.

When we got to the front doors of the restaurant I started to slow my walk and hang back a little so he could go in first, but he was holding my hand and started to sling-shot me forward, sort of gently pushing me through the doorway. I started to turn around to tell him to stop shoving me, when out of the corner of my eye I saw several balloon bouquets…and a wall of our friends and family. I was sort of struck dumb as I stood there processing the room and looking at the excited faces of several people that I know and love. Some of my husband’s fraternity brothers were there with their wives and girlfriends. All of these men I love like big brothers, and their wives are amazing, too. My neighbor and friend who had taken me to lunch (and led me to believe she had other plans that night), was standing there with her husband, smiling radiantly. My godmother and her wonderful husband were there. Another very good friend that I hardly ever get to see because of her crazy work schedule came as well.

I was overwhelmed. I wanted to cry. Again. But this time the tears weren’t for self-pity, but for this amazing realization that all of these wonderful people were willing to go out of their way and come together to help make my day special. Some of them drove from over an hour away. I moved through the room, hugging and laughing and kissing all of these lovely people, and feeling happier than I can describe.

When I managed to make my way back to my husband, his face revealed so many emotions. I could tell he was happy, relieved, and proud. I hugged and kissed him fiercely, and thanked him for everything he had done to make my day so special.

Superman came after all. He may not have been able to reverse time and prevent me from turning 40, but he went out of his way to not only plan this party, but keep it so secret that he had to allow me to wallow in my self-pity in order not to spoil the surprise. He filled my day with my favorite flowers, desserts, friends, and love. And he didn’t forget the balloons, which were my favorite color, red.

Wanda Says…Birthdays can be dangerous, I guess.

September 17, 2014 / Wanda / Leave a comment

My birthday is on Friday, and the customary cards have started rolling in from family and friends. I had to share this because it was funny, and I would rather think about funny shit than the fact that I will be 40 on Friday.

A card came yesterday from one of my grandmothers, and she inserted this little gem into the card.

I’m guessing she accidentally sent this instead of the customary check for $10.00. Well, knowledge is power, so I guess having nine months advanced warning of National Safety Month is a gift, in and of itself.

Thanks Grandma! 🙂

Wanda Says…The Hormone Guide–How To Speak To Women

September 15, 2014September 23, 2014 / Wanda / 4 Comments

My neighbor and dear friend sent me this funny chart today. We laughed, and then we added a few of our own “safest” comments. They went like this…

That whole dirty, un-showered look you’ve got going on? You rock that shit, baby.

Is that new perfume, or do I just love the way you smell after you haven’t washed your hair in two days?

It’s perfectly fine that you’ve been wearing the same yoga pants for three days. I know, they are so versatile!

Oh, don’t worry about not having time to do my laundry this week. I’ll just go buy new underwear on my way to work tomorrow. It’s no big deal!

That spit-up on your shirt doesn’t smell offensive at all. It smells really organic and fresh.

You look great with your hair up in that messy knot everyday. I don’t miss your clean, untangled hair, at all.

If you say so, then it must be hot as hell in here. Let me go put on a sweater and then I’ll crank up the AC.

You don’t need to shave your legs. Chewbacca is my favorite Star Wars character for a reason!

You’re right, honey! Chocolate goes with everything! 🙂

Wanda Says…I love coffee.

September 14, 2014 / Wanda / Leave a comment

I love my coffee in the morning. I’m addicted to it. The first thing I think of when I wake up each morning is that it’s time to have my coffee. It’s like a reward for getting out of bed.

This is the second morning in a row my kids have slept in and let me enjoy my coffee in peace. It’s heaven. The house is quiet. There’s just me and the dog, listening to the birds singing outside, while I stalk Facebook and contemplate my next blog post. This is a sign that God loves me and wants me to be happy.

Wait…..shit. They’re up. Never mind. 🙂

Wanda Says…Let’s talk about something fun, like zombies!

September 11, 2014January 11, 2026 / Wanda / 9 Comments

It’s been a rough week for me. I’ve been battling a bout of the stay-home-mommy-blues and I’m depressed about my upcoming birthday. I’ve started and deleted about four different posts this week that were a bit ranty, but I don’t want to get in the habit of that because it really doesn’t make me feel better. So, just for shits and giggles, let’s talk about something fun, like zombies!

Like many people, I am obsessed with zombie fiction. I read and watch entirely too much science-fiction and post-apocalyptic literature. It stresses me out and entertains me at the same time. I love stories about humanity’s ability to rise above chaos and disaster when the world goes dark and monsters are lurking around every corner. However, my love of these genres does have an unfortunate tendency to make me a little paranoid, and that spills over into my real life where I imagine all sorts of crazy scenarios that require me to protect my family at all costs.

For example, a few months ago we had to take my son to the emergency room on a Saturday night. If you’ve ever spent a weekend evening in the emergency room at any major urban hospital, you will totally understand where I’m going with this.

In the waiting room, there’s an air of desperation that surrounds you and permeates your pores in a way that makes your skin crawl. While we were there, one guy sat for several hours waiting with a broken arm. Several people sick with the stomach flu were given emesis buckets and sat amongst everyone else while they waited to see a doctor. More than a few people traded seats for the other side of the room when the pukers sat down. The man sitting across from me had a partially severed finger and was bleeding steadily, yet still he waited with everyone else. Everyone had these terrible expressions of pain and suffering on their faces.

At one point, I looked around the room, and could clearly imagine that if a zombie apocalypse was going to happen, an emergency room in the middle of the night was the perfect origination point for such a disaster. Although it sounds very dramatic, I would be lying if I said I didn’t scope out the exits in case I needed to make a break for it with my family. I could clearly picture the woman sitting across the room, staring blankly into space while clutching her throw-up bucket, morphing into some half-dead creature of the night who wanted to eat my brains. At 2am, anything seemed possible.

And don’t even get me started on the crazy thoughts running through my head after watching the movie World War Z. Afterwards, I told my husband two things. Number one, we needed to go on diets, because we were too chubby and out of shape to outrun any zombies if they really attacked. And two, I needed to go to a shooting range and learn how to accurately fire a gun so that one of us would be able to wield a weapon and protect us during the invasion. Without those two major lifestyle changes, our ass was grass if the worst should happen.

I know it’s silly, but to preserve my image as a mostly sane and reasonable person, let’s pretend that I’m not paranoid about zombie invasions, and I’m really just referring to emergency preparedness for your typical Southern California earthquake disaster. That’s more palatable to the average person (and to my neighbors). People tend to think you’re a freak when you admit your Costco shopping run was due to the fact that you were up all night having nightmares after watching an episode of the Walking Dead.

I go through these little stages of feeling like I need to have supplies on hand in case there’s a natural disaster, like an earthquake (or a chemical spill that causes all life forms to mutate into horrible creatures), and our utilities or local services are shut down. Since I live in Southern California, this only makes good sense. And plus, I live in Los Angeles, and everyone knows that all the alien and zombie invasions will happen in either LA or New York first, because all the film makers say so. So my husband and I have prepared a stash of water and food supplies for emergency purposes. He calls it my zombie stash, because he totally gets me and sees it for what it truly is, no matter what I tell our neighbors.

I try not to let myself get too carried away though. I have to draw the line when I start thinking about the potential benefits of going to survival wilderness camps, or going to Home Depot to buy large sheets of plywood boards that could be used to board up the windows of my home to prevent looters (or the soul-sucking undead) from raiding my house.

But if the worst should happen, you can bet your ass I won’t be going anywhere near a hospital emergency room.