Sleeping with Vera Wang.

So, when you hear the name Vera Wang, what do you think of? Beautiful clothes? Gorgeous wedding gowns? Red carpets and fashion shows?

Uhhh....Mattresses?

Yup. Apparently Vera Wang now has a line of mattresses.

It just seems like an odd direction to go.

And it makes me wonder if her PR people really thought this through. Do you really want your label, which is associated with the elite of the fashion industry, being blasphemed by the owner of the Discount Mattress Barn in rural Kentucky?

"This week only at the Mattress Barn we've got Sealy, Tempurpedic, and Veee-rah Way-ang mattresses half off!"

And even better,

"C'mon down to the Mattress Depot for a Saint Paddy's Day sale! We've got Vera Wangs for rock bottom prices! That's right folks. Put Vera Wang in your bedroom for the best night of your life!"

Classy. I'm sure that's exactly the direction she hoped this endeavor would take.

The lies we tell.

I have a couple of friends who refuse to play along with the whole Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy game. The reason? They believe it's lying to their kids, and how can their kids ever trust them again once they find out that mom and dad lied about Santa?

That's fine for them. And they're good about teaching their kids not to ruin it for all the other kids who have lying bastards for parents.

But you know, I think it's kind of silly and takes a little magic out of childhood (not to mention the fact that Santa threats are the only way to get some kids to behave anytime between Halloween and December 24th). I think it's safe to say that most of us grew up believing in Santa or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy or something like that--nearly every culture has some sort of mythical character taught to children. And I also think it's safe to say that none of us go around harboring lingering distrust toward our parents because of it.

And you know, mythical characters aside, sometimes lying to your kids is a necessity.

Case in point: This morning I informed Amelia that she was getting a hole in the side of her face and that her lips were peeling off.

The kid has a terrible habit of sucking on her blankets. Not just a bit of the corner in her mouth as she falls asleep--we're talking yards of fabric crammed so tightly into her mouth that I don't know how she hasn't choked to death in her sleep. Her blankets are soaked with saliva every morning, and if I don't wash them every other day, they stink like there's a rotting carcass in her room.

It's seriously messing up her teeth, and her lips and cheeks are constantly chapped due to rubbing on wet fabric all night.

I took all of her "blankies" away ages ago, but she just sucks on her sheet and quilt in bed. So, I bought her some blanket sleepers, turned up the heat a little and removed all but the fitted sheet from her bed. I hoped maybe a week or two without blankets would cure her. Instead, she pulled the fitted sheet off and had half of it crammed in her mouth the next morning.

Sometimes I go in at night and remove the blanket from her mouth while she sleeps. It's like those clowns who pull a hundred hankies out of their mouth. I don't know how she fits that much in.

ANYWAY. This morning her lips and cheeks were particularly dry, cracked and bleeding. Soooo, I took a closer look at breakfast, and in my most worried tone, informed her that I was pretty sure there was a hole forming on one of her cheeks. And that it looked like her lips were going to fall off. I got an added bit of credibility when after wiping her mouth on a napkin, there was a bunch of dead skin and blood left behind.

I told her it was from sucking on her blanket. I won't lie--she was pretty terrified. But if it works, it will be worth the therapy bills in the future. They'll probably be cheaper than the orthodontia she'll need if she keeps up with the blanket sucking anyway.

Another example was about a year ago. I would do laundry once a week, and Ben would only have one pair of underwear in the dirty clothes. Occasionally, there would be NONE. For some reason, he decided he wasn't changing his underwear anymore. Even after his shower, he was putting dirty ones back on.

He was "talked to" about it a few times, but the problem persisted. So, I told him that the reason we were so adamant about him changing his underwear every day was because dirty underwear could harbor bacterial infections, and if he got one, the only way to keep it from spreading throughout his body was for doctors to remove his penis.

Evil? Maybe. But he has changed his underwear every single day ever since.

I may have also informed my children that not eating vegetables would cause them to go blind and lose their ability to walk.

Sometimes you do what you have to do, moral quandaries be damned.

They were born this way.

Nothing to see here...just a typical Monday night at the Douglass house.

Born this way from Brandi Douglass on Vimeo.

Thursday Morning Confessions

This may as well be an "adult" store as far as I'm concerned.

1. Restaurant supply stores get me hot and bothered. I don't even know why--I don't really like cooking. But whenever I go into one, I get a rush of adrenaline and suddenly feel the need to own a 15 gallon stock pot, a 200 pack of cardboard french fry holders and one of those syrup dispensers like they have at IHOP. Oh, and a monogrammed chef coat.

2. The pattern in my counter tops occasionally looks like pubic hairs. We've lived here for eight months now and I still freak out and think there are pubes on my counter.

3. I had a really spectacular hair day yesterday, and the only person who got to see it was the cashier at Wal-Mart. I hope she appreciated it.

4. The plus size model on this cycle of America's Next Top Model is a size 8. I think I'll go kill myself now.

5. Yes, I watch America's Next Top Model. Religiously. Shut up.

6. The reason I was at the aforementioned restaurant supply store was to buy a pack of little one ounce disposable sauce cups with lids, and a pack of the also aforementioned cardboard french fry holders. I put baby carrots and bell pepper strips in the fry holders, fat free ranch dressing in the sauce cups and packed it in my kids' lunches. They now think I'm the best mom ever and they ate their veggies.

7. I couldn't find our headset/microphone combo the other day, so I had to Skype with Will using the Wii microphone from Lego Rock Band. I really had to fight the urge to bust out into "We Will Rock You."

8. I have a post that's been sitting in my draft folder for awhile now. I'm afraid to post it because no matter how many times I rewrite it, it comes off sounding kind of racist, which honestly is not my intention. Let's just say that my friend and I (in her big, red Mormon minivan) got caught up in a funeral procession coming from Boiling Springs Black Baptist Church of Clarksville. It was...an experience.

9. Sometimes I'm afraid if I think about things or say things, they'll happen just because I thought or said them. For example, I would never ever use the fake excuse of a relative dying because I'd be terrified that they really would die and it would be all my fault. As I was falling asleep last night I started thinking about what I would do if my plane was hijacked by terrorists and/or was about to crash. Like, who would I call if I could call--morbid things like that. Now I'm terrified that when I fly in a couple of weeks, it will crash and I will die while trying to make an international cell phone call to Afghanistan.

10. I'm so excited about my trip to Vegas I might throw up. I don't even care about the Vegas part of it. I'm just excited to see my friends and escape my children. Of course, if my plane goes down I'm going to feel horribly guilty for wanting to run away from them for a week. Yet, it's still kind of worth it.

What I'd do for free ice cream.

This could totally be me, for the low, low price of my soul.

So, does it mean that I've finally made it as a successful blogger when I start getting daily solicitations to review products and interview random people? Because if so, I HAVE TOTALLY MADE IT.

So far, I've been asked to:

-Review an advance copy of a book by some life coach, then interview the author and write a "favorable review." Yeah, they would only pay me if my review was favorable.

-Interview a doctor about how acne causes teen suicide, and then help said doctor with his fear campaign by promoting his acne product.

-Taste and review "Super premium, designer ice cream and probiotic frozen yogurt flavors." Again, payment is only offered for favorable reviews. I won't lie--I almost did this one. Odds are, I'm going to like the freaking ice cream. And fifty dollars is fifty dollars. Plus, you know, free ice cream.

-Try and review penis enlargement pills. This company was so sure of great results that payment was not predicated on a favorable review. There's just one problem: I don't have a penis. And the only penises (penii?) in my home right now belong to children. So, that's not happening. Can you imagine? "What, that? Oh, they were out of your Flintstone gummies. Just take this pill instead."

-Travel to Canada, interview a "sexuality and spirituality" guru, participate in one of his weekend retreats (which was accompanied by a warning that nudity and non-sexual but intimate touching would be involved) And then write a--you guessed it--favorable article about the experience.

And you know, I'm not averse to making some money from this blog. Heck, I wouldn't even be opposed to using and reviewing one product a week, especially if they gave me enough that I could give some away, too. (You're all coming with me to Canada for spirituality, nudity and non-sexual but intimate touching!) (That's way better if you read it in your best Oprah voice.)

But the problem is, these companies don't want me to say, "Hey--the company contacted me, sent me a sample, and here's what I think about it." Even if I honestly think good things about it.

They want me to write a post as though I just happened to try it, and I just happen to love it so much I want to tell you about it and provide eleventy million links to their site.

I'm not down with that. I've seen some bloggers who do that sometimes (coughNieNiecough) and it's so fake sounding. I mean, can you imagine what the blog post about penis enlargement pills would have been like? "So, my dear husband has a really small penis and we were looking for a way to remedy the situation. We found these super Penile Enhancement pills online, and let me just tell you about how GREAT they are!"

But you know, I really might reconsider that ice cream one. They have a Rice Krispie Treat flavor.

Phoning it in.

So, this is my first attempt at phone-blogging. And the reason why? I have the plague. I'm pretty sure I might die.

I can't even think about the effort it might take to crawl up the stairs where my laptop is.

I felt fine this morning. I showered, got dressed, all that. And as I was feeding the kids Amelia puked all over the kitchen. Later, she was desperately trying not to throw up, and her efforts caused her to instead projectile vomit out her nose.

And now I have it. This has been my view for most of the day.



If I die, I fully expect you all to make sure my funeral wishes are carried out to my specifications.

Oh terrific. The tornado siren just went off, which is weird considering there's no wind or anything. So now I get to be on my deathbed while crammed in a half bath with all 3 kids.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

Goodwill Hunting

So, last week I was in Goodwill looking for some jeans. These 18 pounds don't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, and I couldn't live with the muffin top any longer. It was time for bigger pants. But, I don't want to pay full price for pants that hopefully I will only wear temporarily. So, off to Goodwill I went.

While there I noticed an entire section of underwear. Used underwear. Who the hell buys used underwear?

I understand that times are hard. I understand that I am lucky beyond measure because I have the means to go buy new, unused underwear whenever I want.

But you know what?

PANTIES ARE NOT A NECESSITY.

They are a luxury. Or as some of my commando-going friends might argue, an unnecessary tradition.

I would never judge someone for eating out of a garbage can or living in a cardboard box. Food and shelter are necessities of life, and you do what you have to do.

But you can live without underwear. There is no reason on Earth for anyone to be putting on someone else's used skivvies. It's just wrong. Are we all clear on this? Don't wear used underwear.

And then, of course, this set my mind to wandering.

What if the previous owner of the jeans I purchased was someone who eschewed undergarments? Wouldn't that then be like I was wearing their used underwear in some twisted sort of way?

And what about new clothes? I mean, they always have that sign saying to leave your undergarments on when trying stuff on, but what about people who don't wear undergarments? Could clothing that I've bought new have previously come in contact with someone else's lady bits? Possibly multiple people's lady bits?

I mean, someone could have bought it, taken it home, worn it around sans panties for a day, and then returned it. And then I unwittingly buy them and get their twidget cooties.

This line of thinking is also why I will never ever buy used dishes. The places my mind goes to when looking at a used bowl or pot or spoon would frighten you.

Really, it's a wonder I'm even able to leave the house and interact with people at all.