I’m not totally against spanking. I think it has a time and a place. I have certainly given each of my kids a little swat on the tush at one time or another. But we hardly ever spank. And, honestly, I can’t remember the last time I spanked one of the kids. Now Lee….well that’s a different story.

So anyway, I use the full name and counting method. This is a combination of two discipline methods.

The full name was something my parents used when I was a child. When I was doing something wrong (which, like, never happened because I was a perfect angel — do you hear my parents laughing?) they would holler, “Christine Jean Brunsting, get over here right now” or “stop that right now” or whatever was appropriate after the full name. My full name rhymes and I was always totally embarrassed by that so I would stop dead in my tracks and give my parents a dirty look.

The counting method is the “I’m going to count to three and if you aren’t in your bed by the time I’m done you are grounded from the Xbox tomorrow.” Now we don’t even have to say all that. Now we just start counting. It goes a little something like this, “Caleb, turn the TV off and get your shoes on. We need to get going.” He sits there and watches TV and completely ignores me. So then I follow up with a very stern. “Caleb Alec [Last name]. One…Two…” I rarely have to get to three. In fact the kids usually get moving by “one.”

Last night my mom called to see what Caleb wanted for his birthday. I really have no clue what he wants for his birthday so I asked him. He said he wants Iron Man guys. And a big army man guy. And some Star Wars game with two Jedis who end up fighting each other at the end. I said, “Do you want clothes?” He said, “Yeah, I guess.” I said, “Do you want a glow-in-the-dark watch?” He said, “Yeah.”

Then I said, “Do you want six spankings?”

He gave me a quizzical look. “What are spankings,” he asked.

Being the genius I am I explained spankings by using the work spanking. I said, “It’s when I spank your butt.”

For some reason that didn’t make it all clear to him. Go figure. So I told him to come over and I’d show him. I swatted his butt really soft.

He said, “Ok, I’ll have spankings.”

Clearly that discipline method will never work when he’s asking for them for his birthday.

There was a time when I would never leave the house without full makeup, my hair curled and nice clothes. Then I got old. The end.

Just kidding. Then I got older. And tired. And decided something had to go.

First it was the clothes. I hate to admit this, but I still wear t-shirts I wore when I was in high school. All of sudden I’ve turned in to a guy who wears his tighty whiteys until there are so many holes it’s just a waste band with a string thong attached and he gets denim burns on his you know what. Only mine are t-shirts with holes in the armpits. It’s embarrassing, but I just don’t stop.

Then it was the hair. Curling or straightening takes to long. I could spend a half hour working on my hair every morning if I still cared. Throwing my hair in to a ponytail or a big clip takes exactly 48 seconds. That’s an extra 29 minutes and 12 seconds of sleep. I’m a working mom who goes to college, drives my kids all over town for sports and dance and blogs. I need that extra 29 minutes and 12 seconds of beauty sleep.

And now it’s makeup. On a good day I put on foundation and make up my eyes. On a bad day I put on eyeliner and dark undereye circle concealer. A LOT of concealer. On a really bad day I look at myself in the mirror and just say “Fuck it.”

Today was one of those days. I worked from home. I spent much of the day sewing Skyler’s dance costumes because I like to be prepared. Which in Christine speak means, dance pictures were tonight and was no more time for procrastinating. I finally jumped in the shower around 4pm. I threw my hair up in to a clip, slapped on some eyeliner and called it a day. I figured I wouldn’t see anybody I knew at pictures. Just the other moms who see me in all my puffy eye and uncombed hair glory every Saturday morning.

But I was wrong.

I ran in to two girls I went to high school with. Go figure. Isn’t that how it always is? You go through 9 months of dance classes and never run in to a single person you know. Then you go to a 15 minute photo shoot and run in to everybody you’ve ever known since childbirth. Or, you know, two girls from high school.

Of course, when you run in to people you haven’t seen from high school you want to look your best. You want to be all, “Yep, I still look this good.” I failed miserably at that today.

You better believe I’ll be dressed to the nines from this point forward.

Well at least until my alarm goes off tomorrow morning and I decide, “Fuck it.”

Saturday night started well. I met some friends for dinner and drinks at a local Mexican restaurant. We had a lot of good laughs and conversation.

A couple of our friends are fuddy duddy’s old wanted to go home early. So we dropped them off. Too bad there isn’t a photo of me showing my friend’s little girls how I can put my foot behind my head.

Then we moved on to a bachelorette party. A good friend of mine from high school came in to town for her cousin’s bachelorette party.

They had a party bus driving them around town. So we hopped on the bus and cruised to a few bars.

At one point my cell phone fell off of my pocket. I noticed it within probably 10 minutes of losing it. I ran back out to the bus, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I started to freak out. And I was really sad.

[Please ignore the weird thing I do with my eyebrows. For some reason I raise one eyebrow every. single. time somebody takes a picture of me. I don’t know why. I just can’t stop.]

I spent the rest of the night crying in to my drink about my lost cell phone. I tried to get my friend’s husband to buy me a new one, but he wasn’t going for it.

But there is good news. A girl found my phone in the street and picked it up. She called the number for “home” and got a hold of Lee. So on Sunday morning he met her and got my phone back (and gave her $20). There really are good people still left in the world, just as I was starting to lose faith in the kindness of strangers.

And now all is right with the world because I have my phone back.

These flower pot and gummy worm treats are such a great idea for a kids party.

Trademark cases are popping up all over these days. Sk*rt is changing their name due to the threat of a lawsuit.

Time magazine did a story on James Rhoades and his quest to have a relationship with his son. I’m glad to see media attention to this matter.

Alice at Finslippy suffered a devastating loss earlier this week when she had a miscarriage. It breaks my heart to hear stories like these.

I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with rude, judgmental women, but I have yet to confront them. Maybe we should speak up to let these people know how truly rude they are.