I've been going to boot camp for almost a year now.  It was around the end of July that my friend Courtney suggested I go to "Hill Day" with her.  I have no idea why I said yes. She's a former gymnast, a Division I athlete who easily flips into handstands at the drop of a hat. She has six-pack abs and amazing shoulders. I, on the other hand, don't have an athletic bone in my body.  I quit playing softball my freshman year of high school because my teammates scared me. They drank, smoked, and went tanning. Interestingly, it was the tanning part that terrified me the most. Since then, I did the requisite "gym time" by climbing on an elliptical and pretending to sweat for 30 minutes.

I still remember that morning, staring up at that hill as I took my place in line with the other "campers." I ran when they told me to run. I sprinted, run backwards, even ran with "high knees" up that stupid hill. After about 30 minutes, I distinctly remember the taste of last night's tuna fish salad welling up in the back of my throat, though I willed myself to not puke at Hill Day. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see because of the sweat dripping in my eyes, and I couldn't talk. I had never, ever been through such a grueling workout. I didn't go back for two weeks. I thought for sure my legs would never recover.

When I did return, however, I discovered the other days were different than Hill Day. There was a great ab workout, a circuit day, a leg day, and something called "black board workout." What I liked best of all, even more than the slight definition my arms started to show or the way my legs actually began keeping up with the rest of the crowd, was the philosophy behind boot camp. You just...go. It doesn't matter your fitness level, your gender or the weather - you just keep moving.

The timing of boot camp and the passing of my father was not a coincidence; I needed something to keep me moving and to take my mind off of the grief. I needed something BIG and all consuming, and boot camp fit the bill. So I went as often as I could. I laid out my clothes the night before, set my alarm for 5:25, and I went. It didn't matter if it was rainy or windy or black as night; boot camp was going to be there. I remember on one particularly tough Hill Day, I got there a few minutes late and had to take a less-than-desirable spot at the base of the hill by some tree roots. Running backwards up a hill is problematic at best, but throw in some trees roots and I was a hot mess. As I gingerly navigated around the roots, one of the trainers encouraged me to go a little faster.

"What if I fall?" I whimpered.

"You get up," she replied. (Very nicely, I might add.  Kerry and Reinier are two of the nicest, most supportive people I've ever met. They are not the in-your-face-screaming drill sergeants you might be picturing.)

It was the most simple answer, but it really rang true with me. Just get up. Sometimes we fall. Instead of over-analyzing it or worrying about it before it happens or lamenting about it when it does, just get up. And keep moving. So I did. And guess what? I was fine.

It's the simpleness of boot camp that I love so much. It's this weird community-feeling to it that despite the fact I barely know anyone's first name, let alone last name or occupation, there's this "we're all in this together" feeling.  And the people that attend that are really good? It's inspiring to watch. I don't know if I'll ever be that fast or have that much endurance, but it's really amazing to see in person.

Brian and I recently joined this fancy-pants gym in our area. While the outdoor pool area and chicken Alfresco salad are amazing, I just can't seem to wrap my arms around this new venture. Yes, the two-hours of free childcare is awesome, but when I came home after my first workout there, I confessed to Brian, "I feel like I'm cheating on boot camp." Because despite the rows of gleaming cardio machines and clean towels at our disposal, I'd rather be doing death carts and navigating my way around the bird poop on the basketball court. The eucalyptus-scented steam room in lovely, but I prefer the smell of fresh cut grass while doing push-ups. And regardless of what the gym offers, they don't hold a candle to Hill Day.

I feel like Kim-One-Year-Ago is much different that Kim-Today. Boot camp has taught me to pull myself up by my boot straps and keep going. Just this morning, I got bowled over playing a game of net ball (like basketball but with a volleyball and no dribbling - you have to see it to get it). I turned into basketball-court-roadkill as my shoulder, elbow, hip and leg slammed against the unforgiving surface. I'm pretty sure I was airborne for a few seconds - a great feeling, right up until I came into contact with the ground again. Kim-One-Year-Ago would have cried and headed home. Kim-Today just laughed it off and kept playing (after the initial sting wore off). Despite my throbbing hip and bruised leg, I'm slightly pleased by my battle wounds. It gives me street cred.

So that's why I love Boot camp. It's real. It's fun. It's like gym class at six in the morning with a bunch of overgrown kids. You run, you sweat, you push, and you achieve. And best of all, when you fall, you just get back up. It's really that simple.

If you live in Vegas and are interested, I cannot recommend boot camp enough. It's really, really, really fun and the best workout. Check out www.lasvegasbootcamp.net for more information.

On August 1, there will be a Hill Day for charity and that would be a great time to try it out. Don't worry - they don't usually make the work-out crazy hard when it's for charity. The next session starts on August 4th.

And despite the fact that this probably seems like a commercial, it really isn't. I'm not being compensated in any way; I just really, really love boot camp. Thank you to Kerry and Reinier for making exercise fun!

Ahhh, this show. It kills me.

The final rose has been handed out, and I'll say - the ending was a doozy.

After my Hunger Games analogy last week, several people told me or commented that they had not yet finished the series. In an effort to preserve the ending of the books (which are totally worth reading, by the way), I will not comment if my Gale-Arie/Peeta-Jef comparison was accurate. But I will say - I may have been an Arie fan all season, but I think Emily totally picked the right guy. I think she had two great guys and she would have been happy with either. Nice work, casting department. The last three guys - Sean, Arie, and Jef - all seemed like such normal, down-to-earth men. Maybe my cynical nature toward this show is cracking. More on that later.

The final episode starts off in - where else? - Curacao. I now know how to both pronounce it and spell it correctly. It only took three weeks. And Emily's family rolls into town, which includes her dad, her mom, her brother Ernie, and her future sister-in-law. Ernie was a bit of a surprise. Considering how pretty Emily is, Ernie, well...Ernie was Ernie. He certainly seemed nice enough and was quick to make both guys feel welcome. I'm not sure if he's older or younger, but he did appear to show genuine interest in both of his sister's suitors. Emily's dad had this staunchy-old-guy thing going on, and he told her he didn't believe someone could be in love with two people at the same time. Emily seemed a little off-put by this statement, but what really got to her was when no one in her family would pick a guy. She whined to the camera about how much harder this made her decision, but I have to hand it to the Maynards; they were leaving this choice up to Emily and Emily alone.

Anyone notice the ridiculously long pause that happened when Arie asked Emily's dad if he would give them his blessing if Arie proposed? I held my breath. But Mr. Maynard eventually relented and said he would welcome Arie into the family with open arms, which allowed me to start breathing again. I really thought for a moment he was not going to consent. Interesting how that would have played out. Also, I love how Arie talks and talks and talks when he gets nervous. He should meet the Bear. Neither would allow the other to get a word in edgewise.

What happens next seemed almost too real. After the family meets both guys, Emily has her last one-on-one date with Jef. They have, what appears to be, this very serious, totally normal, conversation on the beach about Emily's concerns if Jef were to meet Ricky. It was like watching two logical people talk through a situation on reality TV, which, I'm sorry, maybe I've been watching too much Real Housewives, but that does not happen nearly enough. They didn't drop any Bachelorette buzzwords, like "open" or "heart" or "love." It was an honest-to-goodness mature discussion about when is the right time for a single mom to introduce her new boyfriend to her child. I applaud Emily and Jef for being so emotionally mature and thoughtful. It kind of elevated reality TV from sleazy nonsense to borderline poignant. But just a moment. This is the same network that is airing Bachelor Pad tonight, no?

And in the end, Emily brought Jef to meet Ricky. Jef's reaction appeared so sincere and so earnest, it was sweet. He confessed later that he was little nervous, which made him appear even more adorable. He didn't come on too strong, he didn't tell Ricky what to do or be a big goof ball. He simply gave her some space and she slowly opened up to him. Wearing the pink goggles was a nice touch. Despite Emily's concerns about who Ricky meets, in the back of my mind, I kept thinking, "You do know you are allowing your daughter to be seen on national television, right?" I mean, I understand her protection concerns, but I think one-F is the least of her worries. I'd be more concerned about the random people out there that just started a Facebook page in honor of your daughter's stuffed animal, you know?

The day after her date with Jef, there was a knock at Emily's door, as she told the camera she had a big announcement. When Emily answered and it was Chris Harrison, Brian and I said at the same time, "OMG! She picked...Chris Harrison?!" I don't know why we both had that thought (maybe we're rooting for him to find new love?), but it turned out that she summoned CH to tell him...dramatic music here...she's made up her mind. It's one-F or bust, baby. She figured it out yesterday as she watched Jef and Ricky play in the pool, and she saw her future clearly in front of her. Chris encouraged her to tell Arie what she just told him, and Emily cried very delicate tears. She must have stock in water-proof mascara or something, 'cause that girl is not an ugly crier. Of course she's not. She's like the exact opposite of me in every way.

::sigh::

As this was going on, Arie, completely unaware that the sword was about to fall, was making a love potion out of some dried flowers with one of the locals on the island. Again, for one brief moment when I saw the lady in the green head scarf, I thought there was some weird plot turn and green-scarf-lady had been sent by Emily to deliver the bad news.

Maybe I need to stop watching AMC since I keep trying to out-think the show.

But our heroine did not outsource her dumping; she did it herself. Arie seriously looked like he had been punched in the gut when it finally dawned on him that she's breaking up with him even before their final date, and I don't blame the guy. He was confident going into this, and no one likes to be blindsided.

After Arie was out of the way, we had our obligatory diamond porn (I jumped up and down on the couch shouting, "Neil Lane! Neil Lane!" and then cheered when they brought out the rings).  Jef picked a good one. On the other side of the island, Emily wrote in her journal and contemplated what she was going to tell one-F. She slithered into her bronze-and-salmon dress while Jef nervously tied his tie. When they finally met up in that silly courtyard with the obviously-placed greenery, I realized that I was actually happy for this couple. They were cute. They seem sincere. And real. And then after Jef proposed (yet another long pause! Geez people, I'm going to have to go on anxiety medication if this continues), they played Peter Cetera's "The Glory of Love" and then -  I just completely and totally lost it. Just cried. And cried and cried.

Why so emotional? I have no idea. I mean, okay, maybe I really like that song. And the whole 80's vibe just kind of fits this couple, from Jef's little pompadour to his skateboarding moves. Or maybe it was because I really think this couple has a shot, and pretty soon, ABC will be televising the nuptials and it's going to be this big, elaborate Southern wedding which I am totally going to watch. Or maybe it was because the Bear was upstairs sleeping in his brand-new big BIG boy bed and it hit me that eight years ago Brian was proposing (not on this day, but you know what I mean) and in the blink of an eye, life just...shifts. And before Jef and Emily realize it, their wedding is going to only be in photos and their baby is going to move into a big BIG kid bed and they are going to be sitting on a couch, happy but shocked at how fast their lives are going. Maybe that's why I started crying.

Or maybe I'm just crazy. Either way, Brian gave me some space and let me weep. And I appreciated that. I just needed a moment. It's good to get it out.

With that said, I'm really happy for Emily and Jef (or as happy as I can be for a couple I've never met). I think they brought much-needed reality to reality television and didn't play to the cameras. They were just simply themselves and now want to go dig wells in Africa. Considering this franchise is in it's 11th year and 16th season, only four of the original couples remain. If Jef and Emily can improve those stats, I think it brings new life into this show. It brings a nice touch of hope and even my cynical nature shifted a bit.

But then again, Bachelor Pad starts tonight. Needless to say, I will NOT be watching.

Thanks for reading! It was a great season.

This morning, I, like many of you, woke up to the terrible news of the shootings in Colorado. I watched with a sinking heart as they described the scene: the midnight showing of "The Dark Knight Rises," a packed theater, a gunman with tear gas, four weapons, and body armor. Twelve dead, fifty wounded. Fifty people. I cannot imagine.

We've all been inside a movie theater. The fear and terror these people must have felt - first thinking the gunman was just putting on a stunt, and then to realize, with horror, it was real. It really struck a cord with me since I took Scott to his first movie this past Tuesday. Then I thought about my husband, as Brian attended the midnight showing last night at a local theater. In fact, I slept in the other room so when he got home at 3am, he didn't wake me. There was a tiny part of me that wondered if he did come home, or if something like this happened in Vegas, too.  And then I thought about my sweet friend from college, Jill, who lives in Denver and is a professor at the University of Colorado. I hope she and her family are safe and relatively unaffected by this tragedy.

The therapist in me worries that long after the media coverage has ended, the theater has been cleaned, and the shooter has been brought to justice, the wounds will still remain. The pain felt by the families who lost a loved one, and the trauma experienced by the people who were a part of this chaotic, terrifying experience. What this man did was wound the psyches of many, many people. We may never know why, but his actions will last a long time. It breaks my heart.

I try to (mostly) avoid politics on this blog, but indulge me this one time.  I can't help but shake my fist at gun control in this country. All four weapons used in the shooting were legally purchased in the state of Colorado. It angers me that people who have no business purchasing firearms are able to do so and then use them in such a way, it changes lives forever. When the Columbine shooting happened in 1999, I was living in Ireland at the time. Irish friends looked so confused (and saddened) by the events, and innocently inquired, "Why are guns legal in your country?" My response: we have the constitutional right to bear arms. Amending the constitution is kind of a big deal, not to mention a slippery slope. So despite the fact that amendment was written when militias roamed this country (and we were just a tiny, newborn nation), it still stands today, despite our relatively peaceful times.  People like the gunman can destroy lives without a second thought. When are we going to wise up and not allow this to happen anymore? If you have a different opinion that I do, that's fine and feel free to share your thoughts. Just please be respectful.

(And I know some of you are attorneys ::ahem, Jay:: that have a very good understanding of constitutional law, so please let me know if I'm missing something or my facts are wrong).

My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone in Colorado today.

I need to admit that I watched this week's episode of 'The Bachelorette' with a slightly different perspective than I did last week. See, I finished The Hunger Games trilogy this past weekend (about time, right?) and all of the images from the book replayed through my mind constantly as I watched Chris Harrison interview the men. As they were speaking, I kept thinking, "Is this what their mentor coached them to say? Is this the 'angle' they are taking?" Is Chris Harrison an early version of Caesar Flickerman? Why do we as an audience take such great enjoyment in watching the emotional pain and embarrassment of these men? What does that say about us as a society?

Panem et Circenses, indeed.

As far as the entertainment factor, it didn't really get interesting until Emily came on stage. Yes, there was the shameless plug for 'Bachelor Pad' (looks like a lot of tears and kissing) and some outtakes. The best was Emily accidentally spilling white wine on her Carrie-Bradshaw-American-Girl-in-Paris-giant poofy dress and then swearing like a sailor. (note to self: add to bucket list "Wear giant poofy dress"). There was a whole bunch of guys on the stage that I totally don't remember seeing before (must have been from poorer districts), while the 'Career' guys - Ryan, Sean, Chris, Kalon, and Doug - got center stage. No one clarified "compromise" with Alessandro and there was no mention of the nice mushroom farmer Alejandro. (I hope I didn't mix those two up).

Kalon claimed he did not know Emily was the Bachelorette and had no intention of getting a stepdaughter out of the show. Instead of bowing out gracefully, he chose to stay on and ride out the relationship with Emily. As much as I dislike the guy and his snakelike lips, I really don't think ABC would have granted him a "graceful" exit, as much as Chris Harrison claims. They would have hyped it up and made all kind of contrived out of "the only man to walk away from the Bachelorette with a daughter!" So the fact of the matter is, if Kalon is going to be villian, at least he's smart to own it and play it up as much as possible. More camera time. Sponsors love that.

Ryan twitched for the camera, Doug looked awkward, and Sean melted everyone's hearts. (he must be a District 1 or 2 kid). I wouldn't be surprised if they offered him the next Bachelor position, if Roberto from Ali's season doesn't accept it, though my husband broke the news to me that Tim Tebow is in talks to be the Bachelor. Tim Tebow? What? Okay, this is clearly a joke from the Capitol. Right?

And then Emily came on in a cute little pink dress (Cinna is clearly her stylist), looking  calm and refreshed and as though she had lost all of the Curacao vacation weight. The men actually stood for her when she entered. (does this usually happen?) She and Caesar, I mean Chris, bantered for a few minutes and then got down to business. Yes, it was tough to let Sean go. Emily and Sean exchanged pleasantries. It was hard to watch Chris get upset. Emily and Chris exchanged pleasantries. And then Kalon tries to make nice with Emily, and she just completely shuts him down. The audience loves it. In fact, the two keep going and she holds her own. This isn't an exact quote, but she pretty much tells him she hopes he finds faith in something other than his "Prada shoes and rented helicopters." Aw, snap! Gotta love this sassy Bachelorette. It's definitely a change from the perkiness of Ashley or the dullness of Ali. Jillian was the last one with a bit of smarts and sass, and it's nice when their personalities are allowed to come out.

After all of the onset drama, Chris said he's not going to ask Emily how she's feeling now, now that everything has wrapped. Well, except for the 'After the Final Rose,' which ABC is promising as "the most dramatic hour of summer television." In fact, when they did the whole clip show of her relationship with each guy, she had already exited the stage. What exactly went down in Curacao? It looks like a hot mess, from the amount of crying she does. I kept hoping maybe a silver parachute would appear and give her an idea of who to pick. Also, did you get a chance to check out her mother? Wow. Holy mascara wands. Ricky Bobby isn't far off from "Toddlers and Tiaras" in this gene pool.

And while the clips of Arie and Jef played, I was like...OMG. It's Gale and Peeta. It really is. Arie is the dark-haired guy that's adventurous, outgoing, and rugged. The race car driver. The hunter. And then there's one-F, shorter in stature but kind, gentle and funny. The CEO of a bottled water company. Okay, so he's not a baker's son, but I bet he's handy in the kitchen. Or at least helpful.

I'm torn as to who wins, if anyone. Is it Gale, the hunter, the guy who caught Emily's eye from day one? Or is it Peeta, the nice guy who likes to play with puppets and has a very sweet, silly side? For the first time in a long time, I really like both of the final contenders. I think they are both good guys and Emily would be happy with either. But interestingly, that's how I felt at the end of The Hunger Games - Katniss would be lucky to end up with either of the two guys at the end. I was maybe a little more Team Peeta, but that's only because I like cheese buns.

What are your thoughts? Does she pick the hunter or the baker?

I haven't gotten a chance to watch and write up "The Men Tell All" yet (tonight!), so in the meantime, I thought I'd share with you what I've recently Googled, based on what my iPhone saved.  We played this game at our 4th of July party, and when everyone read their lists from their phones out loud, it was pretty funny. And very telling.

So here's mine, and feel free to add yours as well:

1.) "Consumer reports" yawn. We had to buy a new dishwasher

2.) "Sears" again, dishwasher related

3.) "Eric Kent 2008 Chardonnay" my friend has been really into this wine - try it! It's yummy

4.) "Channing Tatum" this must have been after my 'Magic Mike' screening

5.) "Cindy McCain" no idea why I thought to Google her

6.) "my full name" why did I Google myself?

7.) "Ryan Gosling" oh! I remember - I watched 'The Ides of March' while Brian was in North Dakota. Made me think about politics, whatever happened to Cindy McCain, and what dirt there is on me on the internet

8.) "Monsanto evil" I think I got this off of a FB post and wanted to learn more about it

9.) "Carbs in vodka" clearly, I was thinking about cheating on my diet, which is funny since I almost never drink hard alcohol

and finally...

10.) "Blue poop" Scotty had recently had a very questionable bowel movement

What's on your Google List?

The Bear attended his first day of camp this morning.

And I got the morning off.

'Twas a glorious thing.

And just in case you are envisioning pine cones, log cabins, and camp fires, this "camp" is just a little program run by a local school. He's inside most of the time (it's almost 100 out there now), but he'll get to hang with his peers, sculpt Play-doh, and make sticker pictures for me. It's a two week, three-day-a-week, half-day deal, and I couldn't be happier about it.

It wasn't hard leaving, but it was hard coming back to find him crying hysterically. Apparently, some moms had come early to have lunch with their kids (they offer lunch?) and Scotty didn't see me in the mob of mothers. He just lost it. Jumped right to 'she abandoned me' and the wails commenced. It took him a solid 30 seconds for his little brain to register my presence, even after I sat in the classroom, as he stared blankly at me, trying to digest the fact that I did, in fact, come back.

And then he threw himself at me and sobbed on my shoulder for what seemed like hours, in big, wet, heaving cries. He told me he looked around and couldn't find Momma and that made him "skerred." Ah, poor kid. To be almost 3. Toddlers are totally like drunk people. That's the only way I can rationalize this behavior in my head.

The best part was after he finally calmed down and accepted me back into his life, he dragged me over to the lunch table where he demanded (huh? Where does he get off talking to the classroom helper like this?) food. I perched on a little chair, fearful my butt was going to break it, and watched as my tiny man inhaled pancakes, potatoes, an orange slice, and half of a hard boiled egg. Since when does he eat hard boiled eggs? Not only that, he used his fork the entire time and looked like a tiny lumberjack in a Cubs hat, snarfing up his breakfast. He didn't say a word. Just fork-to-mouth the entire time. (Apparently, in addition to refusing the potty all morning, he also turned his nose up at the fresh fruit snack offered earlier. The kid must have been starving). He sipped his white milk like an old man nursing a good scotch, both hands on the cup, elbows on the table.

The whole thing had me cracking up. He is seriously two going on 62.

And while he was at camp, what did I accomplish? So much. It's amazing what you can do in the span of four hours when you don't have a pokey toddler to drag.

I:

-- went to coffee with a friend. Well, technically I had tea (and an egg white frittata) and she had coffee (and this amazing-looking, giant blackberry scone). We both took a moment to stretch our arms and admire life (and restaurants) without the constant screaming of our children.

-- bought a mattress and did some browsing at a local furniture store. Just lovely.

-- cleaned out  my car. This took a matter of minutes. I've been meaning to do this for months, but never got around to it. Today, it was like the heavens parted and I finally had those five minutes to chuck all the empty water bottles into the recycling bin.

-- shaved my legs. Slowly.

-- applied makeup. Slowly.

-- talked to my mother for 30 uninterrupted minutes.

Needless to say, I love camp. We go back on Wednesday. I'll be counting the hours. But I'll be sure to arrive before those other mothers in the event my little lumberjack gets skerred. 

I just ordered Scotty's birthday invitations today. He'll be three in just over a month.

Three.

Three?

Three.

How did that happen?

Wasn't it just yesterday I was at the perinatologist's office, incredibly pregnant, hooked up to the baby monitor while watching "Shark Week" and eating my weight in Whoopers? It certainly feels that way.

But it wasn't. It's been three years since that, and we've gone through so much in that time.  Bed rest, jaundice, CatheterGate, SwaddleGate, PoopGate, EarGate, and just about any other -Gate you can tack on a word. We've watched as a our tiny, helpless infant has slowly but surely transformed into a sturdy toddler with a mouth like a sailor and grin that melts your heart.

(Please, please, please don't let him get kicked out of preschool when he starts yelling, "Dammit Jesus! Dammit!")

(No, I'm not joking. If anyone has any suggestions on how to stop him from swearing, I'm all ears).

Anyways, looking back at the Bear's development made me think about those first three years. If Motherhood came with a written description,  what would the job look like on paper? What titles do we, as moms, hold? What are the requirements?

YEAR ONE: Orifice Manager

To sum up Year One in a nutshell, it's all about body fluids. From your first day on the job (water breaks! Push that babe out!) to post-pregnancy recovery, you are surrounded by fluids. Hormone levels plummet, you sweat through your sheets at night, and your boobs start leaking. If your body functions weren't enough, you have your new baby's to contend with as well. Food needs to go in through the mouth and come out the other end. This sounds incredibly basic and simple, but when it involves a newborn, all bets are off. Is the baby getting enough to eat? Did his poop transition? Why is he spitting up? Why does he only spit up on you when you forgot the burp cloth? Does he have another ear infection? Why do his eyes look swollen? Is he pooping enough?

Mothers of little boys will find extra joy in spending the first few months covered in urine as well, since the minute air hits the wee-wee, pee-pee comes out. It's messy, it's hectic, and you, New Mom, are officially in charge of every orifice on or connected to your baby. The child doesn't give a whole lot back to the new mom in terms of interaction, but that's not a bad thing, since you will be doing too much laundry to think about it.

YEAR TWO: Chief Safety Operations Coordinator

Ah, mobility. Your loving bundle of joy will eventually stop puking on you and begin exploring the house. It's right around this time you start wondering why you did not purchase a ranch-style home with padded walls, as everything - and I mean everything - suddenly becomes a danger to the little muffin. Cabinets need to be locked shut, drawers sealed off, stairs gated, dogs muzzled, and shelving bracketed to the walls. That helpless little infant is now a crawling/cruising/walking nightmare that can and will get into whatever you haven't bolted down. You realize your floors are extremely dirty. You vow to wash them more often but realize in your battle against the Cheerios on your floor, you are losing.

Sleep is better during year two, but food suddenly because yet another unexpected element of terror. Does your child understand how to chew? How small do I need to cut this grape? Is he choking or just giggling? Meals become not only incredibly messy but also a giant source of stress. Because if the little tyke isn't choking, there's a good chance he's tossing food around the kitchen in large, happy handfuls. This is the time to either invest in a really good cleaning service or a dog. You figure out which one is cheaper.

YEAR THREE: Socialization Engineer

So you've kept the kid alive this long. Congratulations! Now the stakes are going to be raised. Not only do you need to feed/bathe/sleep the child, but you need to somehow mold them in a mostly-functional member of society. Short of releasing your child to go live with a pack of wolves, this burden falls on you. For this year, you will need an enormous amount of patience, several bottles of wine, good friends, and the direct number to an excellent nanny.

Among the challenges of Year Three are:

-- hosting a successful playdate whereas your child doesn't beat the crap out of other children

-- teaching them successfully to use the potty

-- developing clear language skills so when they yell, 'Dammit, Jesus!' everyone knows exactly what they just said

-- promoting good manners, which includes (but is not limited to) saying please/thank you, asking permission, and not biting their friends

-- encouraging them to use that opposable thumb by writing with objects, eating with utensils, and giving you very adorable "thumbs-up!" when they are happy

"Sharing" becomes a dirty word, and if you had a nickle every time someone under the age of three yelled, 'Mine!' you'd be in the 1%. Seriously. When you watch how toddlers fight over toys, you wonder how modern society was ever built in the first place. So. Much. Yelling.

Of course, Year Three is capped off with the momentous event called PRESCHOOL. This is the moment when all of your hard comes together. It's a combination of all of the skills you've been working on for the last three years wrapped up into one giant stress-inducing package. Will they meltdown? Will they follow directions? Will they eat paste or make new friends? And most importantly, how many times will they swear and take the Lord's name in vain on their first day of school?

                                                        *****************

Scotty is 34 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days old. He starts preschool in 47 days, and I'm praying he doesn't set the landspeed record for getting kicked out of school.

Ahh, the fantasy suite dates. The one episode of the show that is completely cringe-worthy (as if the first eight eps were not, but this one really gives me the heebie-jeebies.) With three suitors left, Emily has to read the date card aloud to each man, offering them a chance to stay in the fantasy suite "should they chose to forgo their individual rooms." I don't know about you, but I am a firm (though likely naive) believer that not a lot happens at during these night dates. I mean, it's kind of...yucky. I think it's sweet if the guys want to stay over and like, talk and stuff, but I just cannot let my mind go anywhere else or again, as noted earlier, I get the heebie-jeebies.

(I just really like that word right now, too. Heebie-jeebie! Wee!)

So you can imagine how pleasantly surprised I was that Emily chose NOT to forgo her individual room. I mean, she did, but not really, but then Jef did, but well, I'll explain it all later. Just know I gave a silent fist pump to the southern belle for not sleazing up ABC's 8 o'clock programming. No overnight dates, and no hot tubs this season. Nice work, Emily!

The kids are in Curucao, which I had always pronouced "ker-A-CO." Who knew it's actually "ker-a-SOW"? The water is blue, the sky is bright, and Emily trots off to meet...Sean! The one guy that has not professed his undying love for her. Can anyone answer me, has any bachelor/bachelorette ever had so many professions of love so early in the game? I mean, Arie was saying he loved her three episodes ago. It seems that by the time the Fantasy Suite Dates arrive, most folks are hemming on the "well, I think I am falling in love with you...kind of" phase. Not this Bachelorette. She's tapping her watch, waiting for Sean to make his giant statement, though Sean has no idea two other guys have beaten him to the punch. Poor Sean.

He did, however, finally get there. He wrote a very sweet (though kind of creepy, no?) letter to Ricky, Emily's seven year old daughter. In any other context, this would be weird (if not criminal), though it's 'The Bachelorette' and Emily lapped it up. Sean finally out with the three big words - I love you - and they kissed for awhile. Everyone in the audience knew he was toast at this point, but that's fine. He'd make a great Bachelor and I'm sure most single women in America would appreciate that.

Next up - one-f-Jef. Fresh off their Utah hometown date, but Emily and Jef couldn't gush enough about each other in the voice-overs. And while I thought (note the past tense) he would finish a distant second behind Arie, Emily said something that was very interesting - "I feel like I can be myself around him." That's noteworthy. Because as we know, in all good relationships, we're not jumping off of sailboats and going to candelit dinners every night; we're asking our spouses to pick up more toilet paper at the store and wake up with the baby and use the damn broom for once! -- Whoops, got a little ahead of myself there --  But you have to be yourself in a healthy relationship - false eyelashes, island vacations, and room service aside. I think that Emily feels the most relaxed and comfortable around one-f, which makes me think he's gained some ground on the A-man.

Jef also asked a startlingly good question over dinner - "What are you like when Ricky Bobby is around?" God, this is a good question. I immediately flashed to myself, which if Scotty's not around, there's a 90% chance I'm pretty nice and follow most social graces. If the Bear is present, however, I'm a.) not looking at you b/c I'm watching my child, b.) likely correcting my child to take [that] out of his mouth, put [that] down, or get off of [that], and c.) probably fairly grumpy because while I'd like to be giving you my full attention, I can't because my child is screaming at me. So yeah, Emily-without-RB is very likely much different than Emily-with-RB. Points for astuteness, one-F. Nice job.

Interestingly, as noted earlier, Emily did not allow Sean to stay the night. He was forced to walk out, into the darkness, back to his villa. With Jef, Emily had the words on her lips when the kid beat her to the punch. He said it's not respectful to their families or RB, so let's not, m'kay? And Emily kind of pouted off camera, bemoaning that she wanted to turn him down, not the other way around. Ahh, one-F, I think you might win this thing after all! Between his voice-over gushing, smart questions, and constant ability to make her chase him, he has played this game remarkably well. Bravo, Jef! Just tell us what religion you are now so we can all stop guessing.

Arie's date was kind of a let down. They made out for like, hours, on a boat, and she didn't even offer him the key to the fantasy suite, saying she "didn't trust herself." Wow. Okay, so maybe they do more than stay up talking and watching movies? Don't tell me, don't tell me! ::covering my ears::

Anywho, Arie looked incredibly cute at the rose ceremony and I was happy to see him get a rose. One-f, of course, got one too. Sean was sent packing and Emily tried to console him, but the whole time I kept wondering a.) if her hair was fake and b.) why she dressed like a sparkly mermaid. Not a fan of that skirt. Or the dressy pony. But sweet Sean, who so desperately wants to find love, got sent home in the Rejection Limo/SUV/island vehicle. He looked sad, but I have no doubt this show will catapult him into great things. He seems like a genuinely nice guy.

So...the men tell all next week! And after that - the finale! Who's it going to be? Arie, the super kissable guy who took the lead on day 1, or is dark-horse-one-f going to make a surprise come-from-behind victory? Will Emily choose no one? How grumpy does Emily's dad look? And perhaps most pressing...does anyone ever actually eat their dinner on this show, or does it all go to waste?

Post your comments below!

Dear World,

I am so tired of hearing about the damn weather.

Every time I turn on the news, someone is yapping away about the weather. Just last night, 12 of the 23 minutes of the national news broadcast centered around - you guessed it - the weather.

It's too hot. It's too cold. It's raining too much (England, I'm looking at you.)  Oh no, it's Snow-mageddon (remember that?) There are too many tornadoes/hurricanes/tropical storms/avalanches/mudslides/monsoons/droughts.  Etc, etc, etc.  The list never ends and it would appear that very few people are actually happy with the weather.

I'm willing to guess the few people that are okay with the weather most likely live in Las Vegas. Yes, you read that correctly - Vegas. Seems slightly unexpected, but let me explain. Remember when Barack Obama was elected president and everyone was all like, "Oh wow, we live in a post-race world now?" meaning that race is like, no big deal? Well, we here in Vegas live in a post-weather city. As in, it's no big deal. Temps this week are expected to soar up to 112 and did we make the national news? No. Because Vegas is a post-weather city.

When you live in the desert, there are only two temperatures: hot and hotter. There are only two rules: stay hydrated and wear sunscreen. That's it. It's simple and predictable. Yes, it may get cold in the winter months, but our cold isn't your cold. Outerwear in Vegas mostly recreational. We all have cute winter coats and wear them not to be warm but to be stylish. It's very freeing to dress based on your own wishes and not Mother Nature's.

As for rain, we celebrate when water comes from the sky. Over 300 days of sunshine (and yummy Vitamin D) means we get excited when the clouds open up, not panicky, gloomy, or mopey. We rush the children outside, explain how to jump into puddles, and watch as all the water evaporates within minutes. And if that isn't cool enough, let's just say this: I'm not even sure I own an umbrella.

When your weather is incredibly predictable and your city is equipped for it, you're able to do a lot more things than talk, worry, fret, or cry about the weather. You have time to do other things, like talk about the TomKat divorce or Ann Curry's very sudden exit from the Today Show. And best of all: we never worry about having a bad hair day. Because humidity doesn't exist. Heck, we don't even have bugs.  Wrap your brain around that.

So while our water may be hard, life in Vegas is not.

Sincerely,

a satisfied resident

Wow.

Just wow.

I'll start off by saying that I had no idea men could move like this. The dancing is really the biggest thing I'll take out of this movie. Whether the guy is clothed or not, Channing Tatum does not have joints, he has hinges in his body. He moves them exceptionally well. So well, in fact, you'll have a hard time containing your giggles and squeals.  Just try not to throw money at the screen.

We've all seen the previews, so you know "Magic Mike" is a movie about male strippers in Tampa, Florida. Per Tatum, the movie is based on part of his life, when he, prior to acting, actually stripped at a night club. This isn't the male version of "Showgirls" however - it has this nudge-nudge-wink-wink component to it that makes you, the audience, feel like you're in on the joke. Despite the semi-serious plot of Mike making the big decision of what to do when you are an aging 30-year old male stripper and time is knocking on your door, the movie really never takes itself too seriously. I mean, how can it? With Matthew McConaughey wearing ass-less chaps, it's really tough to not bow your head in silent (or in my case, not-so-silent) laughter.

Which is really the best part about this movie - it's just fun. It's "grab-your-girlfriends-and-run-to-the-theater" fun. And in our case, on a Sunday night, we were treated to even more than just the movie. Having had a couple cocktails beforehand, we watched the theater fill up with mostly women (and a few guys). Two men who worked for the theater stood up and announced they would be collecting money for a charity prior to the start of the movie. Just as people started to reach for their pocketbooks, the two guys suddenly ripped off their shirts.

And then danced up the aisles to collect the money.

The crowd went nuts.

I love charity work.

That, friends, is exactly what this movie is meant to be. More of an event, where you can scream and giggle and blush with your friends. I could barely contain my laughter during the opening dance of "It's Raining Men" because it's almost too much to take in all at once. All of the guys, minus the old Tarzan dude, are just too much. It's like Thanksgiving for your eyes. Channing Tatum, whom I had never really looked at prior to this film, comes out as the most adorable, sweet, playful, cheeky (pun intended) stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold you ever wanted to meet. Matthew M is awesome as the oily strip club owner who likes to promise people what they want to hear. Joe Mangiello (Alcide from True Blood) clearly has no dance background, but he's so stinkin' good looking that I'm willing to forgive him. The only two hiccups in terms of casting were Alex Pettyfer, who, while very nice to look at, just kind of sulks through the movie, and his sister Brook, played by Cody Horn. While Steven Soderbergh is a big fan of those tight close-ups of people's faces, I'm sorry, but Cody Horn looks like a 12-year old boy (is waif-thin coming back in again??) and has some funking teeth-thing going on. Not Megan Draper-weird, but like snaggle-tooth weird. She was mostly annoying for the duration of the movie and I never really bought the flirtation between her and Channing.

My biggest concern going into the movie is that they would try to drag it down with silly things like plot and character development. They didn't. They did a great job showing both sides of the stripper coin (front of the house AND backstage) without making it into a Lifetime movie or one giant cheese-fest. Overall, I would heartily recommend it.

So when it's too hot to do anything else, grab some friends, open a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and make your way to the multi-plex. You won't be disappointed.

And yes, I'm totally buying the DVD.

Grade: A