Britney Spears did a pop-in rehab visit, shaved her head and then showed up at a Los Angeles area tattoo parlor last night to get inked.

To quote Jim Morrison,

Are you a lucky little lady in the city of light
Or just another lost angel…city of night

Rehab, shaved head, fresh tattoo all in one day. Girlfriend knows how to stir up the tabloid pot.

Speaking of girlfriends, I think it’s time for a serious intervention of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood variety. Or perhaps Brit is laughing her ass off at all of us and is just doing some research for an Oscar shoe-in movie role. Or maybe she’s finding her niche in the whole hipster parent genre.

What do you think about Brit’s behavior? She has gone through a divorce and had back to back babies within a year which is a tremendous amount of stress for anyone, famous or not. Maybe she’s just having fun and trying to shake off the bad karma of the past year. My mom went the wholesome born again Christian, organic gardening, raising chickens route after she and my dad divorced when I was 7. I don’t think my little hometown could handle any bald, tattooed women any way.

I met my mom at 10:30 this morning and Caitlin is now enjoying lunch out with Grandma at O’Charley’s. Amelia is at daycare and I’m doing a bit of housework. It looks like a dog hair smart bomb went off in our house. Wish me luck!

Soccer starts with practice February 27, so this is a good opportunity for Caitlin to get some extra grandparently attention and give us a bit of a break with just one child for the weekend. It’s amazing to me how much easier it is with one child.

Because I’m some sort of mommy masochist I took both girls to Toys R Us at 5 yesterday, primo meltdown time. Caitlin had saved $7 and wanted to buy a Barbie. We went to TJ Maxx first (a selfish destination on my part as I love TJ Maxx), because I’d seen quite a few Barbie items there a few weeks ago, but there wasn’t much of a selection. She then changed her mind, as most women do when carrying a fistful of crisp bills into a store, and settled on a pale yellow My Little Pony at Toys R Us. All was fairly calm, despite Amelia wanting to toss every stuffed animal on to the floor, but then we went by the shoe area and all hell broke loose over a search for maribou blinged out purple slippers. What is it with me, the girls, and being around dozens of boxes of brand spankin’ new shoes?

The girls were watching TV last night and I switched from a Dora’s Valentine’s special, recorded by Tivo earlier that morning, to some sort of ballroom dancing competition on public television. The first couple up was dancing to Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. Very interesting. Caitlin absolutely loved watching the ballroom dancing. She ran to her closet, grabbed a twirly summer dress and black dress shoes, and as soon as her daddy walked in the door she told him she wanted to dance, nay she demanded that he dance with her. What amazed me was that the dress fit her last Easter and now it’s a couple of inches too short.

We applied Disney princess tattoos.

Both girls were exceptionally cranky and coming down from a sugar high.

I fed them two-day old leftover pizza and grapes for dinner, followed by Nerds candy. Actually I’m lying. I fed them some sort of fruit juice chewy candy first as an appetizer.

I was exceptionally cranky and possibly coming down from a sugar high.

The hubby had to work late yet again. Being a small business owner can be so tough. Being a small business owner with two small children and a moody wife? Even tougher.

I unabashedly lost my temper and screamed at the girls because they were both screaming at me over candy and a Snow White tattoo that dried improperly and empty sippy cups and not wanting to put on pajamas. Oh the horror! Even the dogs slunk away from evil mommy.

Instead of letting the hubby relax when he got home last night I went on a verbal tirade of how progressively crappy the evening had been which is not an incredibly thoughtful thing to do when one’s spouse is exhausted, freezing, and starving. I might as well have pelted him with Nerds candy and had a big temper tantrum right there on the kitchen floor.

I’ve come to the conclusion that February is possibly our least favorite month.

But never fear, Caitlin is staying with our parents for two nights for the first time since Christmas, and I think we’re going to see a movie Saturday while the manny watches Amelia. Not that I equate a good time as time spent away from my children. Cough.

Is it spring yet?

Apparently that margarita swilling Nicole has used up all the Martha Stewart crack in the ‘hood. We took good ole storebought Barbie Fairytopia cards this morning for Caitlin’s class and she couldn’t have been more thrilled with her Dollar Tree greetings. And do you remember actual envelopes with your kid size Valentine’s when you were little? I guess those have been ruled too costly for the greeting card industry. I also recall decorating shoe box “mailboxes” for all my pint-size Valentine’s. I also remember my mother always bought only the best chocolates for us…Russell Stover candies (hey, Godiva wasn’t around back then.)

Caitlin did color this very cool Valentine’s Day butterfly for one of her teachers (and a groovy heart for her other teacher). Both girls have parties to attend at 11 where there will be much sugar consumption. I, on the other hand, have a departmental work meeting at that time. Where’s the love?! Oh, wait a minute…someone just left a pack of Valentine Nerds candy on my desk. Cupid lives!I thought it would be fun to share your special song with your sweetheart, and if you’re not married or dating, perhaps your favorite hook up song. (Do single people still hook up these days or am I revealing my single scene dorkitude by sounding like I’m stuck in an episode of Friends?) Any way, our special song is “Always” by Atlantic Star. I think if we had truly thought about the line…Come with me my sweet. Let’s go make a family….our teenage selves would have run shrieking into the night. Little did we know 20 years ago that we would make a family.Any way, what’s your song?

I have a coping mechanism that kicks in during my annual pap smear.

I MUST TALK during my exam.

Pretty much any topic will do…work, weather, wallpaper.

I’m already a nervous talker by nature and really is there nothing more nerve wracking then lying on your back, feet perched on padded stirrups, scooting your bottom to the edge of the examining table, waiting for your hoo ha to be probed? You’d think that after giving birth to two children I might view a pap smear as a walk in the park, but I never really get over that ick factor when I book the appointment.

Another thing that’s a constant is my socks. I always wear socks during my OBGYN exams. Even in the heat and humidity of late spring when I was pregnant with Caitlin and waddled in with sandals strapped over my water retentive sausage toes, I stuck a pair of socks in my bag. For one thing, my feet get cold as I hang out in the examining room. And as you sit in your a flimsy cloth gown, that’s pretty much all you can do…hang out, literally, and perhaps flip through a pre-Brangelina issue of People. I can think of some simple changes that would make pap smears so much more tolerable: current magazines, a full service bar, heated blankets, and perhaps chair massages in the waiting room.

Back to the socks. Not only do they warm my toes, I think they provide some comfort in ensuring that at least one part of my body is covered.

Any way, during my recent exam my doctor takes a look at my black Gold Toe brand, very utilitarian, very warm socks and comments, “I’ve got socks just like those.”

Great. I have the same black socks as my close to retirement male gynecologist.

Before I left, he asked a few standard questions for new patient paperwork. Although I am not a new patient, he is sharing office space with another doctor until he moves into his new office space this summer and therefore all his patients must be treated, at least on paper, as new.

He asked what medications I was taking and what I was doing as far as birth control.

I should have looked at him and said, “I wear these black socks to bed!”

The hubby and I went to dinner last night while our manny babysat. We haven’t been on a true date since before the holidays. Quite frankly my company dinner in early December doesn’t qualify since standing in a buffet line with one’s co-workers and fighting over the table decorations slash door prizes from Staples doesn’t exactly scream “romantic evening out.”

We chose a restaurant that is close to home. We’ve been there before and the food was fabulous. We sat next to a roaring fire and the Pro Bowl was on the TV in the bar. It was a lovely evening overall but unfortunately our server pegged us as the “married couple out on a rare date night and thrilled to be dining at an establishment devoid of air hockey and bendy straws.” He was correct. However he then proceeded to do a pretty lame ass job of waiting on us.

Little did he know that the hubby tended bar for eight years and is a most excellent tipper.

Idiot.

Any way we took our traveling suburban couple on the loose roadshow down the road to a nice Italian neighborhood restaurant for dessert and after-dinner drinks. Of course on the way we made the obligatory pit stop at Walgreens as we can’t seem to do a date night without stopping for antacid or eye drops or some other geriatric product with soothing qualities.

We pulled in the driveway at the decadent hour of 9:25 p.m. and tiptoed quietly through the back doorway. We were met with silence and for about five seconds I thought that miraculously both girls might actually be tucked in bed and soundly sleeping. But then I then heard my dad say “Oh yes! I’d love another drink! Why thank you!” followed by the gurgling sound of the girls’ pink plastic toy coffee maker. Apparently they watched Barbie’s “Princess and the Pauper” twice. That in and of itself warrants a Manny of the Year Award.

It’s an unflattering photograph of Demi Moore!

Via Celebrity Moms, which is one of my “guilty pleasure” blogs.

Demi, honey, whatever Pilates neck strengthening maneuvers you’re doing are working a little too well.

I had my “annual” eye doctor’s exam (I haven’t been since March 2005 when I was on the verge of giving birth to Miss Amelia.) I’m nearsighted but amazingly my left eye, which has always been my weakest, has improved slightly since my last appointment! Hey, maybe the downhill slide toward 40 isn’t so bad?

On the way to the optometrist’s I heard Toby Keith’s new song, “High Maintenance Woman.” While I don’t consider myself high maintenance (I don’t think I’ve had a professional manicure since my wedding day), I am pretty girly. I mean only a girly girl would get excited to see eyewear by Candies and Vera Bradley at the optometrist’s, right? I checked out some new eyeglass frames. My “nerds” are really only for nighttime wearing, but I’d like to get some hip new glasses although I primarily wear my contact lenses.

So are you high maintenance, low maintenance, or do you consider yourself middle-of-the-road maintenance like me?

See if you can guess correctly who said what today at Casa Blonde Mom Blog.

Awww Bailey, it’s OK. You’re gonna die but I’ll still be your friend. (Bailey is our 9-year-old dog.)

Let’s have a taco bessert (dessert) party!

Can we drug her so she’ll go to bed at 8 tonight? I’ve got a lot of work to do.

People are naked! I saw someone’s underwear! (Quipped while watching the new Chevy HHR commercial.)

Also, would whoever has mama’s set of keys return them or tell me where you hid them? (I’m looking at you Amelia Grace.) My keys have been gone for two days. It was kind of amusing yesterday morning as I used it as an excuse to go into work late, but now it’s getting old.

Speaking of work, I have a standing marketing meeting on Mondays. It’s just us girls and typically after the official meeting wraps up, we indulge in a bit of gossip. Monday’s conversation revolved around popular brands of jeans and how most everyone had searched high and low for these particular brands of jeans….brands of jeans I have only heard of because I flip through the free copies of InStyle magazine at the hair salon while my highlights cure. Suddenly I felt like the proverbial married lady with kids at the table who wears Dockers and sweater sets and I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying, “Some day you won’t spend hours finding the perfect pair of jeans, but you will spend hours trying to squeeze back into that perfect pair of jeans and then once you do you will wear those suckers until the zipper breaks off.”