I Think I'm Doing Something Wrong.

I have never been one to admit defeat.

Ever.

That goes for the time I failed my driving test. And the other time I failed my driving test. And the fact that on the THIRD time (is a charm!) I passed it! Never say die!

It also goes for the horrific year I had circa 1991 when I hit - with my car - a dog, a television and a van load of Mexicans. But did that stop me from driving? No. Never. Say. Die.

But y'all. I think I'm doing something wrong.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think a 3 year old should entertain massive amounts of people by pulling down her pants (and all that that entails) and shaking her groove thing? Should she? Should I be worried?

It's enough that her daddy comes in from a hard days work and the first thing she says is, "hey look dad..." and proceeds to shake it. But it's another thing when it's Grannies birthday and she does it at El Chico. I mean, c'mon, isn't this where I draw the line?

Some say it's my fault. Apparently I had some years as youngster where I liked to "shake my money maker" as well (let's all swallow hard and breathe through our nose, shall we). But I refuse to believe that singing "Tomorrow" while wearing underwear on my head really contributes to this problem. Personally, I don't know what they're talking about; those years have escaped me. Maybe they were worked out in therapy, I don't know. All I know is I have become the very mother I always feared.

Hello, my name is Melissa and I am....an enabler.

That's right. You heard it here. You can't expect her to shake it to just anything can you? So I learned the words to Missy Elliot's "Shake it like a Pom-Pom" and I tend to accompany her on her so-called exploits. For shame, for shame.

~~~~~~~~~

On another note, we are still living in my parents house.

Still.

Our little bitty house is not through being built and so we are still jam packed in my parents guest bedroom like me in last season's jeans.

Something has seriously got to give. (Again, a reference to both my jeans and my parents house). We currently have five cars in the driveway, a garage full of boxes, three dogs, three cats and 87 bicycles in the front yard. And not even that is as funny as seeing the AG and I try and sleep in a full size bed.

We ain't small potatoes, ya know.

We've taken to saying "turn!" every few hours so that we're in sync. Lord help. We are either going to wind up divorced or pregnant.