And Then I TOTALLY Redeemed Myself…

Let’s be clear here, I’m not a cool mom,  I don’t think my kids need to view me as a friend….actually I think they need to fear me.    Add into this that I am one of the most tech savvy moms you will ever meet and you get this:

“Mom, you are TOTALLY ruining my life!!!”

It’s true, I am.    At least my son’s life anyway, I’ll ruin my daughter’s life in a few years when she realizes just how evil I really am.    Heh.

Here’s how it all started:   My son wants an iPhone.   I have one.  I’m about to upgrade and I told him he could have mine as soon as my contract runs out.   You say I’m crazy?   My God, I totally agree with you.   But all the kids here have them and what am I going to do with it after I upgrade anyway?     So Mr. C knows that at some point in the future, he will be the proud owner of an iPhone that has been dropped, soaked and generally abused and he is happy as a clam about it.

Also, I’d like for you to know, he thinks he should have a facebook account.    Just for the sake of repetition, most of his friends have one.    However…however…he’s 11.   Which to me, means no just no, but hell no.

So let’s look at the conversation he and I had a mere week ago:

Mr. C: When I get your iPhone, I’m downloading a program that requires finger print verification before you can unlock it.
TSM: No, you are most certainly not.
Mr C: But…but…it’s my phone?
TSM: You block me from any communication that happens? I block you from the phone. Period. End of story. Thanks for playing.

30 minutes later….
Mr. C: Mom, all my friends have facebook accounts, and I NEED one.
TSM: No, you don’t.
Mr. C: But…but…why?????
TSM: Because you are eleven freaking years old and you don’t need to be swimming in the open waters of the internet.
Mr. C: Um, Mom? There is no “water” (pretend like you see him doing little air quotes here) there. It’s the internet. It’s not a big deal.

Oh my…..

That’s when my diatribe started and it went something like this:

TSM: Wow. So you think not only are you entitled to a cell phone but a facebook account? Let me tell you about when I grew up. Not only were there no cell phones there was no “internet” either. There weren’t even fax machines. There was only one phone, with a curly cord I might add, in the kitchen so my parents could hear every word I said on the phone.
Mr. C:   Slack jawed, trying to absorb this obviously horrible reality…
TSM: And further…I did not get my own phone in my room until I was a senior in high school. And then? My mother would pick up the phone and tell me to hang up.
Mr. C: Attempts to hug me to ease obvious pain of my upbringing.

The bad news is, he still thinks I’m a nerd.

But….something happened the next day that may have won him over forever.

A package, a big package, arrived at my front door. From Nintendo. You see, a month or so before they had contacted me to be a Brand Ambassador. I never thought they’d choose me but apparently they did and in all it’s glory, there was a new Wii Fit Plus for me and a New Super Mario Bros. Wii for him.   Sweet!!!! When Mr. C arrived home from school, he looked at the package and immediate starting jumping up and down yelling, “You are the coolest Mom in the history of the world!!!!” and he then proceeded to call all his friends and rub it in their faces.

Thank God for Nintendo, they saved my life.

But here’s where you come in, Nintendo has been kind enough to offer to throw a party for some of my closest friends…which of course means you! So if you are in the Dallas area and are free on November 6th from 11 – 2 and would like to join me and some of my girlfriends at The Four Seasons, consider yourself invited! Just comment here or email me at thestilettomom at g mail dot com and let me know!

There will be snacks and Wii competitions, a lovely lunch with an impressive panel and then? I’ll kick your butt some more at Wii….or maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you win.

Come on…you know you want to hang out with a Nerd Mom like me!

Hello And Goodbye

So, my site sort of went offline for about five days.    Apparently you have to pay for your web hosting.    Who knew?

But here I am again, all paid up for the next year so that I can continue to dazzle you all with my tales of incompetence and snobbery, all served with a heaping side of snark.

This week is going to start out on a little more serious note however.    Saturday morning I received a phone call that I had hoped I’d never get.   One of my closest friends lost her son in a car accident on Friday.    Her son was 25, sweet and gorgeous and at the start of his adult life.   The accident happened while he was heading into work early Friday and he died instantly.

I spent most of the late afternoon and early evening at her house yesterday, and I will tell you this…you don’t ever want to see the pain in the eyes of a Mother and Father who have to bury their son…and especially not if those parents are some of your closest friends.      My girlfriend is an amazingly brilliant, tough career woman and somehow I know she will find a way to get through this.

Tonight I’ll be going to the Visitation, tomorrow the funeral service, and after that I’ll be by her side whenever she needs me as she tries to make sense something that cannot be made sense of.

Back to normal posting mid week and I’m closing comments on this one because that’s not what this post is about.    In the time it would take you to leave me some kind words I hope you will go hug your kids, we are all so very lucky to have that option available to us.

And if you have the time or the inclination to send a prayer or a good thought to my sweet friend Robin whom you don’t even know, I’d appreciate that too.

Hugs to you and your families,


Ohhhhh…..So THAT’S What That Bar Thingy Is For!

Remember last week when I told you about taking my car in for service and renting a car…and declining the optional insurance on it?

Yeah, about that…

The car the dealership gave me was super nice.    Zippy little black sports car, much faster than the one I own.    It ended up taking them two days to do the service on my car and I had New Boss coming into town so out we went in the zippy little black car.

He had made promises before arriving…namely that he wouldn’t freak out with me driving.   Trust me people, this is a brave promise indeed.    But I was determined to do my best, no ditzy driving moves that I am famous for (ask Super Old CBS Boss who white knuckled when I drove…wait, he’s not old, that job is…just to clarify.   Whatever.).    No, New Boss is pretty chilled out when I’m driving.    The only argument we have is whether or not he will put on his seat belt.   (He does…eventually.)    I try not to scare him and I focus on the road more intently than I normally do while squiring him around the greater D/FW area because honestly, I need this job and having a wreck would just do me no good in acquiring long term career stability.

It all went so well, it really did.   Great sales calls, got him to the airport in plenty of time too.    During the day we had sailed through several of the new toll booths here that have no bars that raise and lower for each driver.    Dallas has moved to toll booths that you just drive through and they magically take your tolltag info without slowing down.

I could get used to that.

Or rather, I did get used to that.

So anyway, I dropped New Boss off at the airport without a hitch and was driving home.    I was in a great mood, we had made some great traction in my territory and I had things to do that night.    I had the radio up full blast and was singing at the top of my lungs.     I got to the exit of the airport and noticed they had a newer “wide lane” available for cool people like me who sail through toll booths with their toll tags and don’t have to worry about the bar that goes up and down and veered into that lane.



There was a bar there.   I didn’t notice it until I had hit it dead on going 50 mph.

The funny thing is, when something like that happens, you don’t really realize it at the moment.   It’s about :10 seconds later…when you have absorbed the thud sound on your expensive, zippy black sports car and you realize that on your windshield there is now a shocking streak of red paint that wasn’t there before.

That my friends is the minute you look in the rear view mirror and realize that all the airport toll booth workers are now standing there, looking at you slack jawed with a total “WTF was that???” look on their faces while you watch that toll bar you just murdered bounce up and down as it makes it’s way across lanes of oncoming traffic.

And if you are me, and you are 50 ft beyond the mess you just created?   You keep on going.

Honestly though, backing up would have created more havoc so I think I did the right thing in terms of crowd management.      Don’t you?

But then, the real issue starts.   I had to come home and tell my husband what I had done.    I don’t think it really hit him until the next morning when he had to buff the scratch marks out on the car where the bar had gone bouncy, bounce, bounce as it made it’s way over my windshield, to the top of the car, and finally the trunk.

After buffing the scratch marks off the car that I had declined the optional insurance on, he said to me, “You’d better get going on returning that car soon.”.   And I was all, “Why?  I’ve got hours!”   To which he replied with a smile on his face, “Well, let’s see.   You busted down the bar on the airport toll booth, a security checkpoint I might add….fled the scene of the crime and maybe, just maybe, there may be some officers waiting to meet you when you return that car and if you want to go out with your friend tonight, I’m going to need time to bail you out.”

Oh.  Shit.

Didn’t think of that one.   But I returned it, played it all very casual.   “The rent car was fine.”  “Nope….no problems.”   “How fast can you get my car to me???”

I’m happy to report, I am still a free woman today.  But there is always tomorrow.

You’d bail me out, right?

I thought so.

Friday Fail


So yeah, two weeks in and I’ve already managed to blow it on my Friday Fashion File series.   It’s not my fault (though honestly, it rarely is).    Here’s the problem, the glasses I wanted to show you are apparently so horribly juvenile that Miss G thought they were hers and at some point took them upstairs to her room.   I was looking for them yesterday when she shared this little morsel of information with me, so I went up to her room to look, shrieked when a mountain of laundry, stuffed animals and a whole bunch of “I don’t want to know” avalanched on me, slammed the door and vowed never, ever, to go in her room again.


I’d do something else, because I do have plenty of fashion disasters that you really need to know about but last night I went out so there will be zero pictures taken of me today folks.   I didn’t go out and tear it up, it was actually a very quiet evening.   Here’s the thing though, it was with a friend I haven’t seen since I was sixteen.    Sixteen!!!! There are no words to tell you how fun it was to catch up on the last 28 years and share information about people we had stayed in touch with.     So like I said, not a wild night at all but when I got home I had to get my yearbook out and look up all the pictures of people I didn’t remember which lasted until a little after 1:00 am.     You could pack for a week long vacation in the bags I have under my eyes today but they were so very well earned.

I feel like you should get something from me for failing so miserably at providing a fashion disaster though,  so in all my glory, here I am at the tender age of 16:

You’re welcome.

Where Were You Then???

luis urzua

ALERT:  TSM gets serious tonight…snark returns in all it’s glory Friday.   You have been warned.  Proceed with caution.


After tonight’s historical rescue of the Chilean Miners, I started thinking about moments in history and where I was when they happened.     As I reflected back, I remembered that for most of them, my Mother or some other trusted person was there by my side.

Cases in point:

1975:   President Gerald Ford was fired at by Squeaky Fromme.    I was at home that day for reasons I don’t remember but I do remember being very confused and my Mother telling me everything would be okay.

1981:   President Regan was shot in the lung by John Hinckley, Jr.   Again, I was at home, this time with strep throat.   I was a freshman in high school and it seemed the world might be ending….but again, my Mother was there to tell me everything would be fine.

1986:  Challenger disintegrates on take off.    I was home from college after my father died, trying to figure out what to do with my life as college was no longer an option on the table.   I was upset at death in general at that point, but in this disaster, I was particularly upset about  Christa McAuliffe whose life as a teacher seemed wasted in one instant.    Once again, my Mother was there to encourage me to follow my dreams and tell me that not every story has a bad ending….but this bad ending would teach future generations things they needed to know so her life did not end in vain.   She showed me that Christa was a visionary that would inspire many women going forward.

1990:   Operation Desert Storm .   I wasn’t with my Mother that night.  I was sitting at a stoplight waiting to go to my Young Republicans meeting (I was the President)  when I heard the first warnings of  the bombings about to commence.   I never thought in my lifetime I’d witness a war, yet here it was.   That night, we had a very special speaker making an appearance.   George H. Bush was the President then, and his son, George W., (not yet in politics) was scheduled to speak.   I’d met him several times before and knew him to be a very nice man, very open to speaking to someone like me who had pros and cons to talk about regarding the Republican Party.  I worried he wouldn’t show up given the levity of the situation…but show up he did.    He informed me before the meeting started that the situation was under control and he expanded upon his comments at the general meeting later, assuring everyone in the room that great thought had been put into this decision by his Father and that eventually, everything would be okay.    Here’s a picture of us taken by a Secret Service Agent…

(Side note:  The hair?   The coat dress?  The everything?  I blame 1990…please do not speak of this photo EVER.)

(Side Side note:  Whether you think the war was right or wrong, or whatever your opinion of  Dub,  this is just my take on the night…all overly political comments, on either side, will be deleted post haste.)

9.11.01:   I don’t need to tell you what happened that day.  All I can tell you is I was nine months pregnant with Miss G and started having contractions as I watched  three days before she was supposed to arrive.     I was making coffee when it happened, my cousins whom I adore where both in DC and I didn’t know what might have happened to them.     My Aunt, who stepped in as my defacto Mother after my own Mom had passed, called me as soon as she tracked them down to let me know they weren’t anywhere near the Pentagon and they were safe.   Hours later, after retrieving Mr. C from daycare, I went to the doctor who told me in no uncertain terms I would not be having my baby on this day, even if he had to stop it with drugs.   “No baby wants to be born on this day.”  he told me.   Three days later, Miss G made her appearance in this world.   Perfect timing?  No.  But better than 9.11.01.

So tonight when the Chilean Miners were freed after 69 days trapped 2,000 feet under the ground, we let our children skip their homework.   We let them watch the last of the Miners being retrieved from deep in the earth.    As the 33rd man came out, I cried for the umpteenth time in the past two days with my children beside me.     Luis Urzua saved the lives of all 33 miners by his initial actions in the first 17 days and we watched as he made it back from  deep below the earths surface.

The Man and I explained that they were watching a miracle happen.    That normally stories like these don’t have happy endings.   That the strength of the human spirit cannot be undermined if you think clearly and act with the best intentions for those around you.    And most of all, we explained that they were watching history being made.

We hope they remember we were there with them when they saw it years from now and that we have the chance to explain the good and the bad they will see played out in the national news as they go through their lives.

So tell me, what historical moments do you remember and who did you share them with?    History is a tapestry of your memory…and it’s so important to remember where you were when it happened and who you shared it with…

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