United States of Motherhood: April 2007

Monday, April 16, 2007

"Serious, I'm going Seriously Out of my Mind..."

Sorry, I can't warble over the net, so you probably aren't getting the Gwen Stefani reference in the title. So, well, I wrote some serious stuf on my blog this week-end and realized the old blog need something light and fluffy for balance.

At first, I thought this might do it:



Then, I thought a cute puppy would hit the spot:






Or maybe a joke, who's home with three ornery kids the first day AFTER Spring Break and who got to go for a fun-fun conference in New Orleans, sipping cocktails in the French Quarter? Who's Hotel is off Bourbon Street and guess who gets to have kids wake her up with bickering?Umm, I can't think of a punch line. So not laughing here. Okay, to be fair, like Cinderella, I could have come to the ball if I cleaned house, found a house sitter, dog-sitter, and someone crazy enough to take on my three kids. Yup, I know, I didn't even try. What's the point? Are you laughing yet?

Okay, seriously need something less whiny. I know. it's time for Call Me a Martyr Get Ready For School Already Kids Mommy Pin Up of the Day Award:

Are we having fun yet?

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Building a Moral Compass

After a delectable BBQ of Greek burgers and grilled sweet potatoes, we watched a movie as a family this past evening. The movie probably wasn't the most appropriate for kids. However, our kids have never gotten freaked out or had nightmares from scary movies. Furthermore, we just don't believe movies or the occasional video game will undo all of our years of parenting and building character and moral fiber.

It's when kids watch these videos without parents or play violent games alone and have nothing with which to compare them --no innate moral compass--that they have an insidious effect. It's clear in my mind it's the neglect of the child, not these games and videos, that is the problem.

It incites such anger inside me when certain types of music are blamed for high school shootings, criminal activity, and violence. That takes away all personal responsibility. Yes, we need to hold children from the earliest years accountable for their actions. We must teach consequences. Furthermore, we need to hold parents accountable for their children as well. They need to be teaching right from wrong, what's imaginary and not, respect, honor, and common courtesy.

Unfortunately, we have a flawed society. Teaching these traits and moral ethics is becoming more and more lacking in our society. Why? One reason is that we coddle our children. We tell them so much "good job," "you are great," etc. to build their self-esteem, that they believe they can do no wrong. They also aim for mediocre because they know eventually they will still get a high-five.

We also have become a society of inclusion when it is not warranted. We must let every child play on sports teams-whether they are good or not. We must pass every child and graduate them from high school-whether they pass the required exit exam or not. This leads children to a feeling of self-entitlement. They are special and deserve life's rewards without the work.

Finally, we shield children from disappointment, so when they feel it from peers, they have no coping mechanisms. When they get to the real world of jobs, bills, rent, they are shocked that they won't get a pass. Not quite doing the job or passing the test will lead to termination of employment. Whoa! Real world! It's a long fall off that pedestal.

What's worse is the mass exodus of adults returning to their parents to help pay bills, live free of rent, get free day care for their children, etc. Teaching personal responsibility is key. Whether it be free-loading off elderly parents or becoming violent, it has everything to do with moral compass and personal responsibility and nothing to do with violent music, games, or movies.

So back to our video night, we watched a "R" rated movie. Am I afraid my kids will mow down a pile of kids at school? Um, no, because watching with them, they asked questions and clearly realized that what we see on the TV is entertainment-not real.

Besides, it was only fair because we had to suffer through "Zoom" the night before with that tool Tim Allen from "Tool Time."

High School Inadequacy: Peeping Tom Mommy

After the kids and CG were tucked into bed, I went exploring on the web last night. Yep, my night owl self stayed up until 3:30 AM last night. Surely, you ask, I did something of value with all those quality hours of solitude?

Err, no. I checked out Classmates.com. They are having a deal where finally you can read all your previous high school and college classmates bios and see pictures--for FREE. I was magnetised. What ever happened to this person? What about that girl? I do admit that my memory must be going because I don't recall half of these names listed as graduating high school with me. I think I ended up looking up every person who had a bio or better than that, photos. I just couldn't stop. I realized afterward that every time I visited, the person would be alerted that I had visited. Yep, caught in my curiosity like a cat in a trap. I'm sure, some of the people will come back to their bio and think, who the heck is she? I felt like a peeping tom.

As I perused photos, I saw how my classmates had aged and how weight had been put on. Just like me I thought. I loved the pics of kids from people I never saw as parents. My thoughts moved to an older sister I have. She had mentioned she thought it would be great for her husband to go to his 25th reunion. You see, they are expecting their sixth child and her husband was the football jock who loved to party. Get out! :) I hope there are anomalies like that in my graduating class. Sadly, I have never made a reunion to see for myself. I have never been interested in flying in for reunions and there might be a little chicken in me. Silly!

Then, I added pics to my bio because I realized how proud I am to be where I am. I never thought in high school that I would be a SAHM of three. I never thought I would join the military before that. I never thought I would self-finance a college degree at Cal and be the first person in my family to get a college degree. I never thought I would find the perfect guy for me. Overall, life has turned out not at all what I thought I wanted, but exactly as I needed.

There is still something in me that wants to have a career or at least get started on my law degree before I run into any old pals. Yep, there's still that high school feeling of inadequacy, but I am working on it. The best part of it all was that I found the bio of a good friend that graduated a year before me. It was nice to read what she was doing. Somehow we lost contact right before I graduated college and got married. I sent Christmas cards for years to her parents house with no response. I was starting to believe she left the country or was dead. Turns out she is working on an MBA in the Bay Area.

So, this is how classmates gets you. I have to join and pay the annual membership fee to get her email address-with no guarantee that it is current. Arrggh. Too cheap and too chicken that she wouldn't want to get in contact with me. Yep, high school inadequacy!

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Lazy, Lazy Mommies


Everyone once in a while, I see a young girl with a bowl cut, or even worse, a vintage, authentic Dorothy Hamill wedge. This really chaps my hide. Why? Because no little girl, no matter how tom- boyish or sporty, wants hair like that, at that age. This is the age of wanting to be princesses and movie stars. Not the land of gender-non-specific styles. This is the land of Barbie, My Little Pony, Hello Kitty, and Polly Pockets.


Every once in a while the hair is explained by a mischievous sibling with scissors. Then, there are the moms with the same haircut, bent on making little cookie cut-outs of themselves. Those are definitely "woman, thy name is vanity" moments. Then, there are the femini-nazi moms bent on making their child not capitulate to a man driven culture. Bleck!


Then...and THEN (with raised voice I type)...there are the LAZY or CRUEL moms. You know who you are. You are the beautiful trophy wives, with lush, long tresses, beautifully highlighted. You have the fake-bake tans and six packs from hours at the gym. Your daughters have the chopped, stringy locks--because it's "easier" to take care of. You would rather spend all the time on you. You are usually perfectly Gucci-ed and bling-ed out, while you child has crusty food on their faces, boogers in their noses, and are usually out of shape because of the time spent babysat in front of a video, while mommy takes care of herself. You think you are clever, but the real reason is that you don't want the competition. You are the young, sexy 2nd wife. The step-up for your powerful executive husband. The trade in for his starter wife, so you don't want to remind him that youth and bouncy boobs are fleeting. Your daughter would be that reminder. So you neglect your darling daughter.


For shame, let your daughters wear pink. Let them have their Rapunzel hair. For there is nothing more beautiful than a forming feminine being, secure in what she want to be, what she likes, and is happy who she is:


PB embracing her inner femininity three years ago this month


These early years may be the only time she doesn't pick apart her figure, her looks, and her flaws. It may be the only time she doesn't self-doubt. She can be anybody and today and for a few tomorrows, she wants to be a ballerina or pop star. LET HER BE! There's plenty of time to let her become sporty, brainy, preppy, etc. There's plenty of time for her to build the worry about what her Mom, her friends, her peers think. For now, it's innate for her to be pretty in pink. Step back. Get rid of your feminist or selfish agendas. Let her be.


Now, about you moms that let your boys have hair long enough that they are mistaken for girls, let's make it brief: You suck sweaty goal balls too!

O' Canada

A while back I purchased a super hi-tech swim suit for my son. His old one had disintegrated so much that you could see crack cleavage. Let it be said, at his age, I'm not sure this suit actually makes much of a difference for cutting his times. However, psychologically, it's a huge esteem builder. He "thinks" he is faster and therefore pushes harder. So, the demise of the suit before long course season was not good.

Now, I really did not want to pay the full-market retail ransom for the fastskin legskin we planned to purchase. $180 worth of placebo is a lot in my book. So, I went a jaunting on eBay. I have had much luck there getting competition suits for cheap.

Note the word CHEAP: This is particularly important when your super-talented swimming seven-year-old daughter loses six suits in one year. No, we are not talking Target specials or Costco Speedo junk. When a child swims 4 days a week for 1 hour 15 minutes and then swims double practices in the summer, you need real swim suits. Each of those original suits cost $50-60 each.

My reaction was that I took all her cash at the time. Yep, mean Mommy. She had $51 saved in birthday money, and I took it all. I used it to buy 3 brand-new suits worth $60 each for $10-15 each--all on eBay. Yep, eBay rocks. Now, she has since lost one of those suits and I think she may get her cute Hello Kitty wallet raided agin. Personal responsibility people!

Back to my son, I got the Faskin Legskin for $80--a banging deal. However, I paypal-ed the money in March and still no suit. I checked and the seller was a bit slow. She shipped on April 4th from Canada. Let's do some math. Hmmm... It's April 14th. So, 10 days has passed and according to Canada Post, my suit is still in New Brunswick. What the Fuck, Batman. Not even American book rate takes 10 days. Not even shipping to interior Alaska takes 10 days--I know I lived there. Are they using a moose to pull a sled. The irony is that the seller is in Vancouver. That is less than a 2 hour drive from here. Why in all holy goat balls would it be routed through New Brunswick!!

Two posts back, I said we democratic nations should take pride in our nationality. Errr...Canada...I don't know. I have many Canadian friends, but their important distinction is that they live here--in the GOOD old U.S.A. I am beginning to understand why. Heck, I know as many Canadians as Californians here in Washington and that's saying something. I heard the PM of Canada,a good few years ago, came here--TO AMERICA--for surgery. I thought it spoke to socialist medicine not being as good as free-market medicine at the time. Hmmmpf...Now I am thinking things work so slowly up there that he was worried the surgeon might take a dump before surgery and miss the whole procedure. Yep, that's right Canada. I'm calling you the most constipated country of all.


pssst: Hand over our suit soon, and I might take this post back. This is suit blackmail! You crazy Canadian suit-nappers.

Shoeless in Seattle: My Feet

A while back, I mentioned that my feet hurt on Easter. My response was to go shoe-less in Seattle. I felt a bit naked, but holy moly, did the tootsies feel some relief. The cool parking garage cement, the tiled elevator up to REI, the brisk slated pathways to the front of the store, and the cool linoleum and wood floors inside. It was such a relief. The OCD inside me piped up occasionally about how dirty my feet would get, but amazingly, they stayed pretty clean. REI is a pretty clean place.

I had intended once inside to buy some flip-flops because I did feel a bit embarrassed. However, as a confirmed shoe whore which got me in this situation in the first place, nothing called to me. Shoes at REI are soooo granola. Then, I thought, okay, just some cute, cheap, flip-flops just to tide me over. Ummmm...$40 for flip-flops I wouldn't probably wear again-no thanks! So I decided to revel in newness of bare feet in a retail establishment in Seattle. I thought that if we were back in the Bay Area, I wouldn't feel quite the spectacle. Hell, back at Berkeley, I would have fit right in.

While all these thought whirled around, we let the kids romp on the play structures inside. I again felt some embarrassment and covered my feet with the merchandise that we were going to buy. I don't know why I was shy. It was at a play structure and none of the kids were wearing shoes. Hmmm... I am starting to feel my thirty-four years! In the midst of the romps and sipping sparkling water, I said WTF and even let CG take pictures.

Guess where those pictures ended up? Yep, his flickr account. So, what I hadn't mentioned before is that CG LOVES my feet. Yep, he probably has hundreds of pics of my feet and always sends me ads of Victoria Secret shoes with 5 inch stilettos. I think it's endearing and put up with it. I'll even pose on occasion. However, I thought this was characteristic solely of my husband. Not so much!

I was toodeling on his photo stream today and saw that ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-ONE people have looked at my picture. There are also quite a few comments/discussion. My shoe-less-ness seems to have intrigued people. Some have even favorited the picture.

Not sure how to react. Comments have been generally positively. One asked if I was a hippie. Yep, I am former military, conservative, REPUBLICAN hippie. *blink, blink*

Mayhaps I have a career in feet modeling, eh?

Friday, April 13, 2007

My Own Personal Rubicon

Okay, so I am always futzing with my blog. Or else, I am visiting someone else's blog and think, hey, that's neat-o! I want that! The latest spit-shine, though, was my Rubicon, my Mt. Everest, my multiple orgasm. Did you notice?


You more discerning types must have noticed my favicon, eh? It's the flag in front of the title in the browser tab. You would not believe how many hours I spent on this. Yep, I play at being an html kiddie, but this was a tricky one. I pestered CG to no end until he helped. Usually I get so frustrated with html, I just ask him to do it for me. This time I entered it ALL BY MYSELF. CG was in the home office IM-ing hints and ftp-ing me converted .jpg to .ico images, true. But, I keystroked it in. If you can't tell, I'm beaming here.


So, for all you out there who want to do this on blogger, here's a quick D.I.Y.:


1. Convert file from .gif/.jpg/.png to .ico with Adobe, GImp or whatever you use. Remember Blogger only supports the .ico format.


2. Save the picture on your flickr or photobucket account. Then right click on your image and click properties. Copy the link starting "http...


3. Go to your blog. Click customize. Click template . Click "edit html" tab.


4. Key in Control and the letter "f". This will pop up a find window. Type <head> and hit enter.


5. Below <head> will be highlighted in the html script window. Click on the line below <head> and enter the following:

<link href='http://enter your link here.ico' rel='shortcut icon' type='image/gif'/>

<link href='http://enter your link here again.ico' rel='icon' type='image/gif'/>


Don't forget the quotes around your link


6. Click save at the bottom of the html window


7. View Blog to see if it worked. Be sure to reload page because some times your cache makes your browser lazy.


As I said, I'm no expert. However, I believe in sharing the joy. I would be happy to help if I can. Also, it would be a good idea to save a copy of your original template before you start, just in case you erase something you shouldn't. Believe me it happens. Enjoy!

Just So Happy to Be American

There are days when I felt, especially in the liberal Seattle area and definitely when we lived in the Bay Area, the sentiment that we should be ashamed to be American. That we are big, fat, ugly, polluting, pushy, loud, guilty Americans. Don't get me going on some liberal family members comments that didn't we think it was our fault that 9/11 happened. Aaarrrgh! The bloody insolence of those comments.

Then, I think back to my youth and how lucky, with the cold war still rocking, I felt to be American. It's not that I think we are better. It's not that we sometimes don't do the right thing as a country or as a people. It's more that spirit that is effused in us all that anything is possible; that we are free; that we have choice. So, speak up people, whether you be American, English, Canadian, Irish, or any other democracy. Embrace your patriotism.

Benign Neglect

Ever feel like a huge anvil has been lifted from your shoulders? Ever feel like Kate after Sawyer puckered up on LOST? Ever feel that feeling of relief when you you realize you didn't get sucked up into the whirring turbines of a jet engine and are not alone anymore on a desert island?

Yep, that's me. Despite the worry, eldest's mole biopsy came back. It's benign. Even though I neglected to slather my boy with sun block to his eyeballs, it's benign.

If there is a higher being out there, thank you! You rock! You're alright! You're the shiznuts!

Spring Break Wasted

No, not that kind of wasted. I do admit I have had more than my normal portions of alcohol to dull the pain of having all three kids home at the same time for a week with nothing to do. See! There! The "nothing to do" is the wasted part. Positively squandered. All I've been doing is looking at the purty flowers and staring at the lint between my milky white bosoms at our house. These ones were taken by CG:



Ewww! Did you think i would give you the cleavage shot??


Anyhoo, due to some thrifty planning, we will be going to Disney World soon, but not when the kids are off of school. We are the wicked and irresponsible ilk who are pulling the kids out of school to piggy-back on a business trip in Orlando where my husband has a convention. See that way his flight, the hotel room, and rental car are all paid by the company, and more importantly, not us. Then we just had to pay for tickets for four and a few extra days hotel to hang out on the beach.

We were going to go another level by buying the tickets with the tons of frequent flier miles CG has accrued because he traveled so @#$%^ much this year. However, I soon realized redeeming those tickets would turn a typical six hour flight into a circus of three layovers only if we stood on our head at the right time with Venus rising and a full moon and gave a blow job to the frequent flier redemption center assistant. Ummm... Alaska Airlines you suck! So, instead I went to Priceline and bid on tickets. Less than $200 (cheapest ticket at the time was $398!) each later from Seattle to Orlando, we are that much closer.

So, in honor of planning a huge and, yes, still expensive trip to Disney World, we didn't plan much this week. Ummm....we went bowling? Yup, that's about it. Oh, the kids caught up on every cartoon known to man and picked so many fights that the most frequent phrase this week used was, "Go to your room--Forever!" I was also mean Mommy and made them read and start to think about book reports that will be due when we get back from Florida. But wait, I hear D.World tickets are so expensive and in my fed-up mindset, I'm thinking that maybe we'll just trade a kid for a week Disney World Park Hopper and a fistful of fast-passes? Yep, then there'll be that much less homework for me to nag about when we get back.

So, gotta run. The neighborhood is starting to return from places like Maui, Whistler, Scottsdale and Sedona. We need to do something so the kidlets don't go back to school and share that all they did at Spring Break is bowl. Yep, got to keep up with those #$%^ Jones, so I get my Vacuous I Might be a Redhead in a Sea of Blond Trophy Wives, But Goddamn it My Kids Had Fun on Spring Break, Mommy of the Year Award:


Maybe some tennis, anyone?

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Obama is Getting Creative



So, lesser of two evils and definitely cuter, the Obama Team created this I hate Hillary video.

Obama: So far so good. Could you make one up for that Nancy Pelosi Bitch who thinks International Diplomacy and Relations falls under her domain. Even news anchor Matt Lauer took issue with your recent visits. His comments suggested that you may be “seen as usurping presidential power in designing and implementing foreign policy," were quite enlightening:





You are Speaker of the House! That would be the Legislative Branch -- not Executive Branch, dumb ass. Woman, you pass laws, not dictate treaties. Remember your place! You are undermining the role of Commander-in-Chief. I know you aspire to that office, but you'll have to cat fight Hillary in Hell before you ever get the Democratic nomination.

What's So Funny?!

Me: "No, you can't have another yogurt. Make sure you put your dirty spoon in the refrigerator."

CG, Li'l Man, and PB: (Hysterical Laughter Like Bad Laugh Track From Three's Company)

Me: Wuh? (I look up from editing CG's resume and important shit like that)

CG: She actually put the dirty spoon in the R-E-F-R-I-G-E-R-A-T-O-R.

Me smiling sheepishly: Oh!

Losing my brain, I tell you! But, hey, I've got skills. I have been working all afternoon on CG's resume. It looks bitchin'!!!

No, he's not looking for another job. We LOVE his job. It's awesome and let's him work from home, so he can sexually harass me. No, it's for his MBA application. Yep, CG's going back to school and we are already getting into the rhythm of me writing his papers for his Mechanical Engineering butt, just like old times. No, really, he just needed some friendly editing with the dreaded red pen/laptop --THIS TIME.

P.S. No, the irony of someone who uses bitchin' twice in one post editing a resume is not lost on me. I just can't take editing this blog too seriously, or it's just not fun! I'm even too lazy to use spell check most of the time which is necessary for a someone so seriously lacking in typing skills.

Why Digital Cameras Were Created...

Why? To prove to your five year old how truly oozing with wax his ears are thus verifying that Mommy and her OCD must clean them out with Q-Tips, tooth picks, or her damn fingernails, if necessary, or the world will surely end.

Next target: The waxy source a.k.a. CG! I'm gunning for you next!

Bloody Hell!

After bowling, I went to Costco yesterday to fill up on gas for my SUV (Soul-less Undulating Vaporizer of the Earth's resources). I also brought the gas can, so I could continue mowing the lawn. It has pained my OCD being to have started diagonally mowing the front lawn, only to run out of gas 1/3 of the way through. Eighty-nine dollars later, we were all filled up.

Then, since the Easter Bunny Pirate promised a honest to goodness cedar play set (the Pirate said the 'Rents would get it at Costco--How's that for procrastinating on the Easter baskets!) at the end of our Treasure Hunt, the kids and I went to check it out. Let me preface this information with the fact that I had no intention to buy anything. A few minutes into the parking lot, I realized the Safeway man had shorted us a few items such as HE Tide, olive oil, and Basmati rice. So, I thought innocently, I will pick up a few things.

Famous LAST WORDS.


Three Hundred Twenty-Four American Dollars later, I leave with a cart of groceries. What the BLOODY HELL! I hate gambling, never got into drugs, but have a COSTCO addiction. Seriously, I think I need help. Are there 12 step programs for Costco addicts?

Why on Earth did I need to buy:
  • 2 more tubs of Greek yogurt
  • A Shit-load of plums
  • 1/2 Flat of strawberries
  • 25 Limes
  • 48 Pudding Cups
  • FORTY-FUCKING-EIGHT hot dogs
  • THIRTY-TWO hot dogs buns
  • 2 varieties of hamburger buns
  • Chardonnay (I don't even like Chardonnay)
  • Rose Fertilizer for roses I haven't even planted yet from my last Costco excursion
  • Oh yeah, the Tide, olive oil, and Basmati rice
  • Chili
  • Powerbars
  • 8 Cans of Tuna
  • $12 canned Crab Meat
  • Red Peppers (I already bought some from Safeway, but Costco's are better)
  • A case each of Coke and Diet Coke
  • A GALLON of Jamaican JERK marinade
  • A dozen bagels
  • A bike helmet
  • Shorts for CG that he hated
  • Two dozen ball point pens that I'll lose in a week
  • A case of chocolate milk boxes, and it keeps going on and on.

Again, had no plans to shop yesterday. I already had a burgeoning refrigerator and freezer with $350 from Safeway that SAME day. Did I mention I bought myself some "HOT & CRAZY:"


Yep, this is a problem. I'm not sure what award I should get for this. Maybe Hoochie Mama Don't Trust Her with an ATM Card Mommy of the Year Award:

Yep, that's me -- Hot & Craz-z-z-e-y

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

I'm Creamy


He came!
He came!


Sebbie the monster dog started baying away and I knew it was he.

My first thoughts were:

"Ah, the Safeway guy is here... I should probably put some panties on."

No, I'm not a fruitcake.

All my panties were in the laundry baskets downstairs and I was still wearing pajamas upstairs.

Since I was planning on wearing a skirt and bending over to help the guy cart the groceries from the porch to the kitchen, panties seemed like the right thing to do.

The guy could be my Grandpa. I'd hate to flash him, have him stroke out, and then not get the cream for my coffee. Priorities, people!

So, after swearing madly like a sailor while forcing a gazillion items in food on "our empty" shelves and into our"barren" frig efficiently putting away the groceries, I blithely mentioned to CG the above panties issue.

He smiled gently, then asked hopefully if I ever thought about the opposite when he came home.


"You know," he says goofily, "like CG's home, so I should take off my panties."



(Sorry, TMI, I know)


Me: "Um, no. Never came across my mind. You are always home."


He seemed sad and disappointed at first, then a few minutes later he rebounded with,

"You want a nooner?"

Yep, that's my life. My husband is the energizer bunny with his own cold-fusion penile power source. He neva, evah stops thinking about sex.

Sigh. He was disappointed once again, but watch out boys, I already had my cream.


Buh-dum-dump!

Let Them Eat Olives

Breakfast of Champions time! Yep, still no groceries. My eldest just ate the last hard-boiled egg. No one likes instant oatmeal without milk. No one likes dry cereal. No one is looking at the buttermilk this time. Oh! The whines and desperation! You would think we are entering the desert for forty days and nights.

Last night, we had a lovely Swiss Chard Spanokopita with herbs from my herb garden accompanied by pound cake, mixed berries, and whipped cream for dessert. Yum, yes? Uh, no, there were complaints because the berries were previously frozen. Apparently, the berries were too cold. People, there are children starving somewhere, so please spare me the whines about cold berries or that we have no milk, juice, and bread. Geez!

Just so you realize the ridiculous nature of the phrase, "There's nothing to eat at our house," here is only one-fourth of our walk-in pantry:





And again, here's our frig and freezer:


Yep, positively barren our shelves are. So I did order $350 dollars of groceries, so that our pantry and frig should bulge like it should. So, we wait for the groceries to be delivered to our doorstep. Two hours. Two hours! In the meantime, the whines are unbearable especially my own ...what I wouldn't give for some cream in my coffee. Now, if we were out of Vodka or wine, that would be a true emergency.

In the meantime, Li'l Man approached with puppy dog eyes and a can of black olives. What does any mother worth her salt do? Let him eat olives for breakfast.



Yum-so juicy, salty, and nutritious! Yep, it's that pin-up time of the day where I win the Oh So Sexy Let Them Eat Olives Fell Asleep on The Couch Watching American Idol Last Night Mom of the Year Award. Woo-Hoo!




After the groceries arrive, we are going bowling! Woo-Hoo! Spring Break rocks!

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Nature's Little Accidents


So CG took some snaps of my truly bitchin' tulips this year. It's funny that I meant them to be red tulips and some how they were mislabeled.

Instead I got these outrageously bright and colorful rainbow hued varieties. Some are orange and yellow and some are pink and white.

Wow! I love them. Isn't it funny how life's little accidents always seem to turn out?! Like this accident after CG had a certain procedure:


Lil Man rocks my world in every way.

Monday, April 9, 2007

Membership Has It's Privileges

I just went to the (finger quote) "mailbox" (end finger quote) with my betta half. I played along with the fantasy that the last pinup picture planted in his one-tracked brain. This is what happens when your husband works full-time from home. He thinks he has twenty-four hours access to his marital privileges. P'sha! So I played along. I wore a short skirt in what looked like a sunny, breezy day in the Seattle area. We got out there and I squealed. Shite! Breezy my ass. Frigid was more like it. I refused to bend over at the mailbox 'lest neighbors see and my assets got frostbite. I'm sure my husband was thinking frigid as well.

Disappointment-it's good for the old bloke. Membership has it's privileges, but it's not a buffet. Yet, as is my nature, it never hurts to throw him another bone:

I've got some Easter hams for you

First, our little natives were restless, but found shelter in a pile of driftwood.


Then they tried to represent as the original preppy gangstas:

Then, they decided to run with the chicks...

Yep, another fun-filled Easter day. It reminds me of a Laverne & Shirley episode. "Schlemiel, Schlimazel, Hasenpfeffer incorporated!"

Easter on the Puget Sound


It was a pretty glorious day in Seattle yesterday. We had our traditional treasure hunt, compliments of the Easter Bunny Pirate, complete with treasure map. We had our egg hunt. We reveled in the respendent,gorgeous tulips that I planted everywhere last fall. We did chose a pretty horrid brunch buffet, but what did we expect on finding the only place still accepting reservations on the Wednesday before Easter. Hmmm... All was right with the world though because the sun sparkled on the Puget Sound, illuminating the container ships like bright toy-filled jewels on the emerald waters.


The beasts actually kept mainly clean on the rocky beach and threw only 1/5 the rocks into the sound. It was breezy enough to fly a kite, walk along the water front, and skip through the sculpture park. We even ended the day at REI. We scored some fabulously lipstick pink snow pants in a next size up for PB at 75% off. Always an eye on a bargain and this bizarre weather we have had this year in the Northwest!


By then my ridiculous boots pained me so greatly that I actually walked around the parking garage, the elevators, and inside the store ... shoe-less. PB said on the way back she couldn't wait until she was an adult. Asked why, she responded that she "couldn't wait to shop shoe-less when she was grown up?" I shake my head. Chalk another one up for my votes for the most irresponsible, but damn those shoes look good pinup mommy of the year. Whooo-Hoo!


Happy Belated Easter to all.

Mom of the Year Award Goes to Me

Little Man just brought me a quart of buttermilk with an inquiring smile. He wanted to use it on his breakfast cereal. This was after I insisted that the kids make some breakfast for themselves since it was 10:30. And no, I held firm that they couldn't have as much Easter candy as they could eat for breakfast-- like yesterday.

So the down shot is that I haven't shopped for over a week. Really I use that term shopping loosely since really all it takes is a few clicks of some keys and the Safeway.com man in a van delivers the groceries to my kitchen island. Yet, still I was too lazy, distracted, tired to make those few keystrokes!

Anyhow, Lil Man asks to use the buttermilk as my eldest grazes on dry Special K. Princess Baby is chewing on the stale heel of the remains of our bread. Lil Man already used the rest of my fat-free half and half on his cereal on Saturday-hence my IV of caffeine is black today. He is getting insistent that he wants buttermilk on his cheerios. I insist back that he try it. He gulps down the considerably old buttermilk in a glass and he seems okay with the taste. OKAY?! Luckily, peer pressure worked at this point because I was going to let him try it with a rejoinder that if he poured it, he would eat it.


My kids love to make disgusting concoctions that they then don't eat---as a clean plate, kids are starving in Africa, waste not-want not child of the 70's, the waste rankles me more than anything--but I digress.

At the last minute, as I was saying, his siblings got wind of what he was going to do and chimed in on how disgusting that was, how chunky the milk was, and how bad it smelled. Disaster was averted! Whew! Li'l Man decided to start campaigning again for chocolate instead.

So give it to me people! I way satisfied my husband in new and inventive ways last night that required much lubricant, but can't manage to get simple staples like milk and bread in our house. Yep, I vote for myself as sexy pinup Worst Mom of the Year award.




Did I mention that at least it was low fat buttermilk?

Saturday, April 7, 2007

The Ultimate Hypocrite

Maybe it's all Al Gore's hot air that is causing this supposed global warning. Or perhaps, as Green Republican points out, it's his monstrosity of a house. Here's some entertainment based on my favorite hypocrite regardless:




Can you taste the bitterness this college Republican still feels about being forced to read Al's passel of lies and convenient half truths book my freshman year of college?

Complete Me!

People, people, people! I now have Alaska, Hawaii, New Hampshire, New Mexico, and Wyoming visitors!! My 50 States project is almost complete. Complete me!


Still to go to make my 50 states project complete:

Montana, North Dakota, Rhode Island, & South Dakota

My husband, CG, is shocked that I don't have Montana yet, since I have a sister living there. Ummm, not sure this blog is family-appropriate. I know some of my sisters (there are 4) know of its existence. However, I have no plans to advertise to those who don't know. I figure it is enough that I am lamb that has left the fold. A sinner. A misfit. A non-believer. A red-headed vixen. I might even be atheist (hiss). Let's add morally corrupt in my love of pinups:


Complete me! Complete me! Yes, I can be a demanding little vixen-ask CG!

Dhem are DEE Rhules!

I instituted this rule with my husband that all pics of me had to be APPROVED before he posted them on his blog or flikr account. Why? Because he has this particular affection of choosing my worst moments and finding them beautiful and posting them for all to see in the blogosphere. Yep, happy I married someone who must be blind, but hating the way I look with this extra 50 lbs. 75 lbs. of cellulite and stretched post-pregnancy skin of which I need to rid myself.


And yet, today, what do my eyes see, but an unauthorized snap of me on his blog. Someone is in need of a spanking--and no honey, not that kind my gutter-brained mate. Okay, I have to admit, it's not as bad as usual:



But still, it's the rules! And my betta half has been hounding me about my following through of the rules and consequences threatened with the kids. Yep, I am a softie. But, snookums, there will be hell to pay if you post another P.W.O.P.! Wuz PWOP? Why it's either Pic With Out Permission or the comic book sound of my backhand thwacking the back of your goofy head! PWOP!

No Results Yet

So again, we went to the pediatric dermatologist and fully expected the dermatologist to say it was nothing. While she did allay my fears by saying skin cancer is extremely rare in kids this age, she also said but she never discounts anything. After taking a short look, it WAS something enough to be removed that very appointment. They had my son prepped, numbed, sliced and diced, and stitched in less than 30 minutes flat. We will know the biopsy results next week.

So I am not sure how I feel. I am glad it's gone. I'm glad I went against my feelings of being the over reactive Mom and had it checked out. I'm shocked it really was something that needed to be removed. Just like I was shocked when I talked my husband into getting the moles checked out on his back and head and it turned out that they needed to be removed. Sometimes, I feel like a such a hypochondriac for myself and my kids that I hesitate. I usually do follow through when it comes to my kids and husband, but rarely do for myself. Why do I self-doubt?

So now we wait. Luckily, we have spring break to keep us busy and no swimming. My son is starting to think it's cool to have stitches. He is definitely trying to use it to his advantage by needing more ice cream and not needing to clean up his pit of a room. He also told the doctor he wanted his best friend's Dad to remove his stitches. He's a local ER trauma surgeon. I'm sure he will be thrilled to remove yet another neighborhood kid's stitches. :)

So now we wait...

Friday, April 6, 2007

Sunny Days are Here Again--Go Away!

Being a Californian child of the 70's with pale skin and too may burns to remember, I now know the signs of skin cancer and moles. I burned once so badly that I had 2nd degree burns which damaged so many layers of dermis down that my nose peeled continuously for a whole year. I will be shocked if I don't get skin cancer to be honest. I don't recall ever wearing sun screen until I hit college. My mom just never used it on us kids. My only redemption was I hated the sun and got heat exhaustion and nosebleeds often enough that I wasn't tanning with CRISCO on our ROOF like my older sisters did. Luckily, I went through a Goth phase as well that kept positively vampire-esque for a few teenage year. I was the anomaly in my family. One sister would get so dark, her knees looked like she knelt in the mud. She had a 4-6 hour lay-out routine in the summer. Yep, skin cancer and fool-crazy behavior runs in the family.

So, a while back, too scary to think how long, I noticed my eldest son had an unusual mole on his back. So this mole was pretty unusual--multi-colored, bigger than an eraser head, asymetrical-- and seemed to have all the signs. Yet, I dismissed it because there is no way a 10 year old develops cancer, right? Well, I finally mentioned this to his pediatrician a few months later. I started with "I'm sure it's nothing and I'm being paranoid, but could you look at this." I fully expected the doctor to laugh it off.

Guess what, the pause before the doctor tells you that your concerns are valid are some of the longest, worst seconds a Mom will ever endure. Turns out that she thinks it is something. So today we go to a pediatric dermatologist that specializes in childhood skin cancer. She diagnosed the skin cancer on the ELEVEN year old that had skin cancer on our previous swim team.

Again, in my head I'm repeating I'm sure it's nothing while berating and second-guessing myself over and over about not constantly slathering my son at swim meets in the blistering California sun between events. I'm flagellating myself for allowing even one burn on his fair skin. I always put sunscreen on my kids if we were going out to the beach, swimming outside or spending long periods outside. Yet, I was never good about re-applying after swimming and I never put the daily sunscreen on that they recommend. Fuck!My husband had to have a growth removed a few months back and that was scary enough.

The irony is we now have moved to Seattle with it's infrequent, watery sun-lit days. Worse yet, today, the day of our appointment, we are having the most beautiful, sunny, spring day on a day when I hate the sun more than anything. That's saying something coming from someone who has had Seasonal Affective Disorder, loves the sun, and lived in Fairbanks, Alaska where we barely see the sun 6 months of the year.


Wish us luck! Nothing is worse than worrying about the health of your child.


Monday, April 2, 2007

MIA Part II

Okay, I must admit even I haven't checked out my blog lately. So much for one post a day! Tee HEE.

Anyway, all the ads on my blog are for Mormons or LDS bookstores. What the heck! I know I have talked a fair bit about my Mormon upbringing, but heck now it's invading my blog. Shooo! Go away!

Maybe if I start talking about what really matters, the ads will change. You know--the real important stuff like:

coffee, chocolate, Cabernet, chocolate, wine, shoes, chocolate, ice cream, vodka, pasta, chocolate, cupcakes, mojitos, chinese food, shoes, rum, coffee, sex, chocolate, wine, wine, wine, wine, wine, coffee, shoes, oh yeah my husband and gorgeous kids...

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Missing in Action

Yep, I've been MIA lately. The life of a PTA and soccer swim Mom of three has beeeeeen busy.


For all my endeavors, I won a Golden Acorn Award, an emergency kit, and a bag of pretzels at an award ceremony. Seriously, it was nice for them to recognize the hours of volunteering put in by many moms and dads. It's an unfortunate fact that people diminish or disparage PTA work because of the stereotypes. Having filled just about every position: Treasurer, Secretary, VP Fundraising, Committee Chair and President, believe me it's a lot of hours away from the family and a lot of grunt work--with no pay. I am still sore from Friday night's Walk-a-thon set up and tear down. And yet, it's worth it to see the money funnelled directly into the classrooms and young minds. Our current school is fortunate to pay for extra teaching aids, Art Docent programs (my 7 year old daughter pointed out the "texture" of a painting in a art shop yesterday), Math Olympiads, Destination Imagination, Science Fairs, Writing Seminars and Authors in Residence, Classroom Grants to every classroom, etc. With a budget of $75,000 annually and a $100,000 reserve, we are very fortunate indeed compared to our former school.


That said, I am considering this to be one of my last years of PTA Board volunteer work. I might consider being Legislative Representative for our school to help lobby for more educational funding in this coming election year. Yet, other than that, my PTA career is winding down. My littlest will be in school next year and I will start to study for that 10 year delayed LSAT. Yep, Mommy's fixin' to get herself a career in the next 5 years.


Before PTA, before my kids were school-age, it was FSG. We were in the Army with a deployed platoon, and the typically issues and fundraising were implemented in the form of a Family Support Group. Oh, the issues of 18 year old brides with three kids and no access to her husband's checkbook (in Egypt) to pay for food and diapers!! As the platoon leader's wife, at the ripe old age of 24 years, I was a college educated senior wife and obvious candidate for leadership. It still makes me shake my head that my husband, at a year younger and married less than a year, counseled his men on marriage and marital issues.

Let's not forget the volunteer hours for year-round and recreational swimming. We also shouldn't forget the short season of coaching soccer and the years of being the soccer team's "Team Mom." And there's Class Room Mom for the last 5 years, party Mom 4 years straight, etc.

Thinking this over, I think I have realized somewhere along the line, to "make up" for being the stay-at-home Mom I thought I would never be, I turned into a volunteer junkie. I can neglect my truly disastrous house because I am busy volunteering. I can sometimes neglect my marriage because I am busy helping others. I can especially neglect myself and my weight, my anemia and health issues, my sanity, and my stress because I am helping others.


It seems silly writing it out, but taking care of myself seems selfish. So silly, I am resolving for a third year in a row to cut down on the volunteer work. I have held firm with the pressure-filled phone calls to take on another PTA position. I held firm and said "no." My husband gave me a standing ovation. In the past, I would prevaricate with "only if you can 't find anyone else," which always resulted in me taking the position because they stop looking--they've hooked one. I know this because I have done it myself.


So all you out there reading this, hold me to this, please. I need to take a year off before I think about law school and get my home, my marriage, and myself in order. I need to say fuck the guilt and say, "NO!" No board position, no room mom, no yearbook, no party mom, no soccer mom... I need to say yes to the last year to spend time before my 5 year old hits full-day school. Yes to hitting the gym and watching what I eat. Yes to date night with my husband. Yes, reading for enjoyment. Yes to taking care of myself.


Hold me to it people! I already am feeling guilty saying this after receiving my Golden Acorn Award. I feel as if I am letting people down who nominated me. A friend was surprised and a bit shocked to see that I wasn't running for a position. It's what is expected of me!

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