$25 Thrift Store Challenge

I love thrift stores--particularly, I love Goodwill. I know they have some practices that are not always in the best interests of everyone (I feel your pain, Africa), but I do love a good Goodwill store. (Say that three times fast.)

The Daughters? They love Goodwill as well. Mostly they love to go in to Goodwill and beg me to buy them every single stuffed animal on the twenty-five cent stuffed animal shelf.

"But momma, he needs a home."

So, when Oklahoma Women Bloggers (those are some good women, y'all) issued a $25 Thrift Store Challenge, I was on it like a tag-poppin' rapper.

I, however, put a twist on it. (Did you expect anything less?) I told The Daughters that they each had $25 to spend. They could not buy $25 worth of stuffed animals. They could not even buy twenty-five cents' worth of stuffed animals. They would, instead, buy one school-appropriate outfit and anything else they wanted as long as they didn't go over $25. They were so excited.

Since my own momma's birthday party was coming up, I decided my shopping would involve decorations or party supplies.

Upon entering the store on that very, very rainy day, Daughter 2's shoe immediately broke. She threw her shoes in the trash (No, I'm not kidding!), and went the rest of our shopping extravaganza barefooted (Yes, she did!) and no one even noticed--she fit right in.

She knew exactly what she wanted: Whatever was on the mannequin. So, while Daughter 1 carefully flipped through every single pair of jeans in her size, I undressed mannequins for Daughter 2.

With her arms loaded down with clothes that would make her look like a model, Daughter 2 entered the dressing room, where she erroneously assumed we couldn't hear her belting out a medley of Macklemore's "Thrift Stop," Bridgit Mendler's "Blonde," and Chris Thomlinson's "Awakening." It was like a very schzophrenic Vegas show.

Daughter 1, upon finding what she was looking for, took to the dressing room with one pair of jeans, one shirt and one dress. She left the dressing room five minutes later and declared she had finished shopping. She shops like her momma.

Since Daughter 2 was still trying things on, we retreated to their housewares department where I picked up three candy bowls, two serving plates and a vase for my own momma's birthday part. I conversed with another shopper who complained about parents allowing their kids to sing and be obnoxious like that while out in public. I nodded my head and said, "I know it!" a lot.

Forty-five minutes and a strange vocal rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" which morphed into Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" later, Daughter 2 emerged victorious with a leopard print dress, a shirt, a jean jacket and a skirt.

The Daughters each picked out a necklace that would be perfect for their new outfits and then we checked out. I figured we had gone over the $50 limit--especially with my party purchases, but I was pleasantly surprised to find several items half price. We made it out only owing $49.29.

Here are our steals:

Jacket, blouse, skirt and necklace.
She wore it all for picture day.
I'm hoping we got that crazy smile for picture day, too.

Leopard print dress.
Those shoes. Um ... she didn't buy those.
Ahem ... not sure where those came from [blushing]

Jeans, top and necklace.
She was so over pics by this point, I wasn't going to beg for more.

Gasp! A dress! RIGHT?!?!  And she wore it! 

Two plates and two serving bowls--I spray painted the blue plate.
I may be addicted to spray paint.

The vase.
The jars were provided by The Domestic Artiste--she's got my back.

What was your last great shopping steal?

3.5 Billion

There are 3.5 billion girls in the world, give or take a couple. I am blessed enough to not only get to be one of those 3.5 billion, but I also get to parent two of those girls as well.

Today, I had to break one of my girls' hearts--she won't get to take a big class trip with school because we just don't have the funds. This, my friends, is a life lesson. She would have to work for the trip, and she simply didn't have enough time to do that. She's alright with it; and she'll eventually understand the power of saving and planning and accepting the answer no.

I also got to sing karaoke with my younger girl. We sang Abba's "Waterloo." We sang as if the entire neighborhood needed to hear our voices ... I'm sure they enjoyed it as well. Who wouldn't? She went to bed still singing "Waterloo." I hope she'll always sing loud and proud regardless of how on-tune she is or much she botches the lyrics, even though they are right on the screen.

My guess is that this scenario is not any different for most of the 3.5 billion girls in the world. I say "most" because I know that not every girl is in a healthy, fun, encouraging situation. I'll offer sincere prayers for them and their situations tonight.

I tell you all of this to explain to you why I didn't write about that horribly horrific (yeah, yeah, yeah--dissect my word choice later) performance by Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke.

As a blogger, the minute the tweets and updates about the performance hit the social media scene, I wanted to take it on. But there was something in my heart--something in my core--that wouldn't let me. The words that I wanted to say were so deep inside my soul that I had to search for them long and hard.

I thought about going for the laughs; the obvious ones were taken, though, and I couldn't really explain clearly how much I love to joke about twerking. I twerk in my house. I want a pair of twerking shorts and everything--this is not a joke. (Ask my real life peeps.) So when Miley Cyrus made it so yucky, I felt robbed.

I also felt robbed by Robin Thicke. "Blurred Lines" is one of the only songs of his that I really like. Of course, I never really listened to the lyrics. I sang them kinda like this: You're a good girl. blahblahblah  want it. blahblahblah want it. The way you grab me. blahblahblah want me. Don't be spastic. You're a good girl. The fat girl in me thought the song was being sung by a big ol' package of Double Stuffed Mint Oreos. That little scene stole that pick-up lane song from me.

But really, that wasn't what I wanted to write either. I spent the last week or so trying to find the words I was looking for to address the situation.

This weekend, I attended the Arkansas Women Bloggers Unplugged Conference at Ferncliff Retreat Center near Little Rock. I got to dine and chat and walk and think with 100 of the coolest 3.5 billion women on the planet. I recognized some of them who had blogged about the VMA spectacle. I got to listen to a wise woman talk about being true to your own voice. I got to hug the neck of a woman who selflessly brings together women in the spirit of camaraderie. I got to share a ride with a fellow momma who gracefully handles her life and has her family at the front of her every thought. I got to share pillow talk with a kindred spirit and talented worddress (it's like a seamstress for words) who is my bloggy wife. I got to walk with a very funny and absolutely darling friend on a beautiful morning through a beautiful forrest. I got to talk frankly with a woman I've long admired--and not just because she's the mother of twins, but because she has a sweet, sincere and delightful voice that made me want to move her next door to me. I got to sit on a panel of talented authors who made me feel like I belonged with them.

Being in the presence of these (and many other) wonderful women, it became clear. I am angry about the whole hoopla that has invaded our lives since the VMAs.

Really, really angry.

I'm not just enraged because Mylie is a young girl who is going down a road that I don't ever want my own daughters to go down.

I'm not just mad because my love of twerking as a middle-aged woman and a silly little dance song has been tainted.

I'm resentful and outraged because out of 3.5 billion women on the face of this wonderful world we occupy together, we have devoted so much of our words, so much of our time, so much of our energy on a three-minute, crappy cry for attention.

We should have been writing about the girls who volunteer their time at animal shelters and homeless shelters and orphanages. We should have been writing about the girls who carry water on their shoulders back to their entire village and girls who carry their babies to doctors to fight diseases and illnesses and disabilities. We should be writing about the girls who make earrings and lemonade and scarves and hats to benefit girls who have less--significantly less--and whom they have never met. These girls, these girls we already know and love, are worthy of our space and our time.

There are at least 3.49 billion other women who have a story that's worthy to be told. And my space will be occupied with those women. Starting with my deepest love, admiration, adoration, and devotion to these two of the 3.5 billion ...

Tell me about the amazing girls in your life ... Really, I wanna hear about them.

The Best Advice I Never Took

"I am not ... " Vlog

Oklahoma Women Bloggers have issued me (and all other members) a challenge to use a Vlog to tell more about myself (or themselves--they don't all have to tell about me).

I pretty much am an open book, am I not? So, I decided to tell you all about what I am not ...

What are you not?

Blah, Blah, Blah Day

Happy Blah, Blah, Blah Day! Y'all know that's today, right? Have you made your blah, blah blah cake and have you sent your blah, blah, blah cards and have you decorated your blah, blah, blah house?

If you've done all of those things--if you've made and checked off your TO DO list--then you've celebrated Blah, Blah, Blah Day.

Weekend Update

Where have I been this week?? Well ...

I met with my fellow OKC Mothers, Misti and Julie and we plotted and planned our Listen To Your Mother show. I waxed poetic about it HERE.

I made some not-at-all-snooty sangria over at FunnyNotSlutty.com. Check that out HERE.

Over at the hen house that is Chick-Wit.com, I make a bunch of predictions for the new year. I believe I gave the Long Island Medium a run for her money. Read my forecast HERE.

My column hit the presses at my local newspaper. In this column, I chat it up about the college football bowl games. Find out if I ever see the end HERE.

And finally, I held hands with my girls Stephanie and Mari and we jumped feet first into this new adventure called Oklahoma Women Bloggers. Y'all? It's pretty cool.