Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Happy Anniversary!!!!

You know this blog is all me, all the time, when I forget my own anniversary. It doesn't matter if it is my wedding anniversary, hire date anniversary or in this case, my bloggiversary... I still forget the date. My husband should feel better knowing that. (It's not just our marriage that I forget, Mark. It's stuff I like, too).

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my starting this blog with an innocent little post. Since then I have blogged about everything from politics to my kids to my boobs to my hair to virtually everything in between (and don't panic... I don't mean body parts in between. I just kinda scared myself). I vent, I laugh, I sing, I blog like nobody's reading (luckily for me that isn't too hard to imagine since my audience revolves around my mom and a smattering of friends). So, in honor of my one year anniversary spewing thoughts into this cyber abyss.... I am going to do a top 10 list of my favorite blog posts. If you're new, check them out. If not, and you already read them, leave a comment about a post you particularly liked (if you can't think of one, I totally understand... just humor me and make it up. Chances are, I won't remember if it was a real post or not).

Top 10 Favorite Blog Posts from the Last Year
  1. The Mark Post: It's funny because it's true.
  2. To Lift or Not to Lift: It's sad because it's true.
  3. Momunist Regime Attacks Cookie Party: Because I still fear the momunists!!! (And they're still out to get me. Shhhh... don't tell them where I am).
  4. The R Word: Because sometimes my blog is about stuff that is actually worth thinking about. Not often... but it does happen. Ok, once. Shut up.
  5. Dear Mr. Sexually Harassing Texter Guy: Because he has the nerve to sexually harass me and I never hear from him again. Seriously, is it that hard to pick up the phone and call someone after you send them a sext by mistake??? I feel so used.
  6. Four Years Ago... Sniff Sniff: Because sometimes when I blog, I really mean it. (And not even sarcastically).
  7. Pee Pee in the Potty... A Diary: Because no one should go through this alone.
  8. Will went into the water: Because some posts still make me cry when I re-read them (and not because they are just that bad).
  9. Tween Checklist: Because knowing who I live with kinda makes you understand why I am the way I am. (And it should make you feel sorry for me, too. A double bonus).
  10. A Letter to Kanye - AKA A Verbal Bitchslap: Because sometimes, I crack myself up.

So, those are my favorites. If you liked something else, let me know. I always like to hear from my fans. And no, I can't say that with a straight face.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Lady Gaga - Fashion Wack Job or Just Smarter Than Us???

You may look at this and think, hmmm.... cannibal mask rejected by Hannibal Lecter? But no! Think of the money we would save on makeup and sunglasses if we just went with this look. Not to mention, why go to the dentist if no one sees your mouth? Plus, hello skinny!!! No diets needed when you can't shove food in your face! This is a money saver if ever I've seen one!

This was a fashion risk, because what if she was seated next to The Phantom of the Opera? You never want to be wearing the same thing as the person next to you. BUT - think of it this way... someone sprays you with acid and disfigures your face and no one will ever know. Genius.

Again, a risky choice. This was worn in Europe where frog legs are pretty popular. One wrong move and you are dinner. And, rumor has it, it's not easy being green, but on the flip side, as a frog, she can move easily on land and in water. I am surprised more triathletes don't wear something like this.

If Minnie was going to finally make an honest man of Mickey, this is clearly what she would wear. Thank you, Lady Gaga, for being a symbol of mouse morality. More people should make a stand for rodent marriage.

Clearly auditioning for role of "psychotic alien" in the next Star Wars. Who can blame her for trying on the costume early?

This leotard may be used as a floatation device. Hey, they say California may fall off into the ocean, clearly Gaga is ready.

I feel a little bad for the lady with this one. Clearly, no one reminded her to change out of her nightgown. But, the good thing is that her pad could leak and you'd never know. If only I had this ensemble in middle school! Plus, those zits will never show through that red lace. Really, this is a puberty miracle suit!

I commend Gag (I mean Gaga) for her ability to be dressed without actually putting clothes on. A money and a time saver. Plus, look at those wings. She could take off and flee the scene of any fashion disasters looming ahead. Quick getaways are a must when one forgets to put on their pants.

Sometimes you have to wonder how clean famous people are. They are often on planes and buses for long hours and sweaty from dancing. At least with Gaga, you know if she's taken a shower recently.

Have you ever seen the movie Anaconda? Freaking terrifying. Gaga never has to worry about snake-induced strangulation with this anti-anaconda knitwear.
Lady Gaga says, "Where do I put my drink? There's no table." Her dress says "pick a hip, baby." Who doesn't want to walk around with their own end table attached?

See, I told you. Lady Gaga is not just some kooky celeb. She is as prepared as a boy scout and as creative as a Martha Stewart. Function and fashion.... golf clap for Gaga. Well done, you.

Monday, September 14, 2009

A Letter to Kanye - AKA A Verbal Bitchslap

Dear Kanye,

You are a tool.


PS.... For the record, I am not a fan of Taylor Swift. I can't name a single song of hers. For the record again, I can't name a single song of yours either. Oops. Must add "watch MTV" to my to-do list so that I can figure out who you people are. But, I do know who Beyonce is. I even saw her in concert once with Destiny's Child (yeah...that one college student in the crowd of preteens... that was me). So, it is safe to say I am a fan of hers. And, I am admittedly videoly-challenged, but I have even seen the "Single Ladies" video and I really like it. Catchy stuff. But, Kanye, that don't make you right, OK?

Beyonce's video could be hands down the best video ever vidoed in the history of that channel that used to show music videos but now just shows shows about spoiled brats and knocked up cheerleaders... but that doesn't mean you throw a temper tantrum on national TV. That doesn't mean you storm on stage in the middle of someone's acceptance speech and piss on her. You may disagree with the winner, Kanye, but guess what? It's not up to you. Little hint from me to you, the world doesn't revolve around your opinions. Now, I recognize the world doesn't revolve around my opinions either, but I am not taking a live TV broadcast hostage to promote mine. I am just typing here for whoever chooses to read it. And, I will admit that I am not a terribly nice person. I tend to be a little snipey, snippy, bitchy and may have earned the nickname Luci (short for Lucifer) at one point in my life. But, even if I don't like someone, I don't feel the need to poo on their shoes. You could have gone home and written on your grammatically odd and weirdly spelled website (that I will not put here because I am not going to promote your stupidity to the masses) whatever you wanted about who won what at something OH SO IMPORTANT like the MTV Music Video Awards. Thank goodness you don't waste your time and energy speaking out about something important, like health care, when you can devote your time to little moon man statues and music videos.

And a little FYI for you to tuck away for future temper tantrums... Kanye, no one takes you seriously anyway. Your opinion ranks up there right next to getting culinary advice from Chef Boyardee. Once you threw your first tantrum in 2007 and vowed to NEVER participate in an MTV event again, and then signed on to perform the very next year at the VMAs, you lost any credibility you may have once had. Pathetic media whore, party of one, your table is ready. Please enjoy your happy meal.

This is just not how adults behave, little Kanye. So, let me give you just a wee piece of advice for future performances... stick a pacifier in it, baby boy. No one cares about your opinions, and some of us get enough crying babies at home... we don't need to watch it on TV. But, hey, kudos for the crop circle hair design. I will say, I thought that was very nice.

Friday, September 11, 2009


I remember where I was....

I was driving to work when the first plane hit. It was 7:46am, our time, and I was in my car listening to Good Morning America, like I did every day on the way to work. Charlie Gibson reported that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. They were speculating on what happened; a reporter heading to the scene. Clearly a plane had problems with the navigation system. Weather or visibility wasn't an issue, so maybe it was pilot suicide and in the middle of the speaking they interrupted themselves. Another plane hit. You could hear the fear and confusion in Charlie's voice as he announced it. Then the pentagon. Then the plane crashed in Pennsylvania. Suddenly, it was chaos. It was a country filled with fear.

Every plane in the sky became a weapon. Reports started coming in that planes were hijacked and headed to targets all over the country. Airports were shut down. Gas stations were mobbed and the only thing on TV was the news. People running and covered in gray ash. People diving out of the tower windows to their deaths. Images of burning buildings, burning people. Death. Children, business people, military personnel, travelers, firefighters and police. Someone I know was supposed to report to work in the towers that morning, but was at the dentist. Another's father was on his way to work when the cloud of ash was so thick he couldn't see out the windows of the car. Another's father died when the towers fell.

I don't know if it was my age or me just being naive, but I had never considered an attack on my country until that day. Wars were fought in other countries and in my lifetime, the only one I recalled was the Gulf War and we won. I didn't know anyone fighting that war, and my experience was in 6th and 7th grade, packing care packages for troops in social studies and wearing yellow ribbons to show our support. There was no blood in that war, not in my limited understanding of it, and no one would spill American blood on American soil. An Independence Day alien attack seemed more legitimate than the idea of humans attacking our country. But, it happened. And people died.

But, despite that death and the despair that is still felt by the families and friends of those who died, our country won that battle. We were hurt. We were broken and burned, but we remain. Our democracy remains. Our pride was stronger than ever. Flags were flown across the country, in front of homes where previous displays of patriotism were limited to 4th of July barbecues. Flags lined streets and people came together to say that while we were hurt, we would not back down. Our country stood for something in the days following 9-11. It stood for the human spirit. The American spirit. The knowledge that no one can break us. The understanding that the pursuit of terror would not make us live in fear. That fateful day showed those of us too young to be part of "The Greatest Generation" what Americans are made of. It was such a surprise.

In the past eight years, flags have come down. Politics went back to usual. Construction has progressed. Conspiracy theorists have had their say, and wars have been waged in lands far away. But, on this day, we as a country, remember. On this day, we as a country, mourn. On this day, as a country... not a democrat or republican, not rich or poor, not black or white, and not young or old... on this day, as a country, we grow stronger.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Too Loud!!!

Will has been diagnosed as autistic about 100 times. Never by a doctor, mind you, but by a million arm chair experts who have seen autism in other kids or on tv and recognize it as the new buzzword diagnosis. That and H1N1, but no one has used that on Will yet.

When Will was younger he would repeat things a million times. It wasn't just apple juice, it was "apple juice, apple juice, apple juice, apple juice" like a broken a record. Why did he do that? Well, according to one nanny (and no... not one that had actually met him....), it was because he was autistic. Will had a terrible fear of bees and insects and so a neighbor suggested he was autistic. He didn't speak more than a few words until he was close to 2 years old, so virtually everyone we know suggested he was autistic. Guess what, folks? HE'S NOT AUTISTIC. No medical professional has ever found reason to test him for autism. No pediatrician has even mentioned it. So, when I pose the question I am about to pose... do NOT come back with "maybe he's autistic" or I may hunt you down and shove the signs of autism up your you know what. (I can't say it because I don't want Will saying "ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass" for the rest of the day.)

Today, Will had a rough day of preschool. He went out to the playground with his class, but there was a chipper right next to the playground taking out tree stumps. He was "scarified" by the noise. Luckily, the classroom volunteer brought him inside to play with puzzles. The downside is that he feels totally cheated out of playground time. Obviously, I could just take him to the neighborhood park, but that is not the point. Why is he so scared of loud noises?

Will is truck crazy, so he spent a long time watching the chipper from the classroom window. Much like he watched the cement truck from his bedroom window when we had the patio poured. When they jackhammered the old patio out, Will spent that afternoon in near hysteria and God help me if I play the radio loud and he unexpectedly walks into the house. I guess my questions are... is this normal and how do I fix it? I could use some help, because the last thing I want is for him to flunk out of high school because the janitor is using the floor buffer and Will has to leave his finals because it's too loud.

And let me just repeat what I said earlier... DO NOT TELL ME HE IS AUTISTIC!!! I have print outs ready and I am not afraid to shove them!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

The Anatomy of a Three Day Weekend

Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect the guilty...

Day One: Saturday

Boys wake up at 7:30am. Dad leaps out of bed and says "Hey guys, let's go downstairs."

Mom hears happy play noises and comes down shortly thereafter.

Family goes out to lunch (in a restaurant).

Family has enjoyable day filled with group play.

Lliw gets to stay up til 9:30 because it's the weekend, so why not?

Day Two: Sunday

Boys wake up at 7:30am. Dad grumbles a little sigh, but gets up. Mom lays in bed a good hour before coming downstairs. Mom realizes that neither boy has been changed or fed. Mom is slightly irritated, but masks irritation with jokes.

Family goes out shopping. Lliw has fit in store over bike riding (Dad maybe could have let him go one more lap before kicking him off and inducing tantrum). Lliw has fit in second store over lack of sneakers in "giant foot size." Lliw is happy after store three because they had two suitable pairs in his size. Mom is tired of errands. Return home.

Family has dinner at grandparents' house. Grandparents returned from 2 week cruise; happy to see kids and very playful.

Bedtime at 9:30 because family stayed at grandparents' house too late.

Day Three: Monday

Kcaj wakes up at 7:30a. Dad mumbles expletives for five minutes before getting out of bed to take him downstairs. Lliw wakes up and goes downstairs. Mom doesn't get out of bed until pack of wild dogs come in and drag her lifeless body down the stairs. Boys are unfed and unchanged. Mom proceeds to rip Dad limb from limb and beat him with his torn appendages.

It is determined that no food exists in house. Lunch will be picked up from fast food establishment. Mom just wants everyone to go away and is none too helpful in the food debate. Dad (obviously reassembled) offers suggestions that Mom shoots down for no good reason other than she is just grouchy and wants everyone to go away. Ibbat offers suggestion of Chinese food. Dad, now equally grouchy because not only is Mom taking out all of her frustrations on him, but she also made him MOW. THE. LAWN. That bitch. Dad replies to Ibbat, "We are American. We eat American." Suddenly Dad has morphed into idiot redneck with amnesia since we also eat Mexican, Chinese, Italian, etc.

Mom sends Dad and children to park and escapes to grocery store alone. Only time in history Mom decides to take her time at Meijer. Ahhh....the peace and solitude of the frozen foods aisle.

Family goes to grandparents' house for dinner again. Apdnarg hides in den with lights off for most of evening. Amdnarg locks door the second we step out onto front walk. Could hear faint sounds of her calling 24 hour locksmith to come change the locks since we have keys.

Family leaves at normal time. Children put to bed at 6:00p. Ok, not really, but Mom wishes kids went to bed at 6:00p. Kids really in bed by 9:00p. Mom falls asleep chanting "Thank God tomorrow is a school day!"

Thursday, September 3, 2009

I think he likes me....

Ok, so today is Will's second day of preschool. I don't want crying.... I am not looking for tears... but this time I think he is going a little too far.

Day one, he didn't cry. He was a trooper and just waved goodbye and had a hint of fear in his eyes as I walked out of the room. I liked that. Just enough attachment to make me feel secure in my mothering, but not enough to rip the heart out of my chest as I disentangled a screaming mass of boy from my leg. Today... I think I could have used a little more attachment anxiety. We pull into the parking lot and into a space and I start to get out and he says "Mom, you don't have to walk me in. You stay here and I'll run in by myself." Italicized portions denote total "duh mom" whining tone that I thought showed up closer to third grade than three years old.

Really, Will?


He is three years old and already embarrassed by me??!?!?!?! I am not there in a robe and curlers for God sakes. Not walking in with a naked baby on my hip and a Marlboro Red hanging from my lips. What did I do wrong?!?! He didn't even know it was play-doh day yet. I explained that it was a rule that parents take the kid all the way into the classroom so he begrudgingly let me tag along. When we hit the room and he saw the play-doh out, I am pretty sure he forgot my name altogether. I think he muttered bye as I walked out, but that tcould have just been Miss M trying to mimic his voice to make me feel better. I am hoping that a trail mix snack I just bought may remind him that I am almost as good as Miss M when I pick him up.

That's right... I am not above bribery.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Letters on the first day of preschool...

Dear Miss M,

Today I handed over my most precious possession into your care. I only met you once, and it was for roughly 34 seconds, but I am trusting you with my baby. I realize he is three, and he certainly wouldn't allow me to call him a baby, but to me, he will always be my baby boy. Others may see a massively large screaming crazy man, but I see 6.6 pounds of squishy angel that I fell in love with instantly. So, be gentle with him, please.


Dear Will,

Today I left you alone for virtually the first time Daddy, no Grandma and Grandpa, just you. Alone with a room full of strangers. You were sitting at a round table, waving goodbye so bravely, with a hint of nervousness in your eyes. You didn't shed a tear, and I was so proud to walk out of that room knowing that you were so strong.

You've left the nest, so to speak, and I am so happy to see you grow up. I am also so very sad. Sad to know that the life that you are accustomed to is over. From this point on you will realize that someone other than mommy can fix your ouchies. You will learn that life isn't always fair and people aren't always nice. There will be a moment when someone takes your toy and I won't be there to make that child share or comfort you when you cry. You will learn that sometimes your feelings will get hurt, sometimes you will be left out and sometimes you'll have to deal with that alone. I didn't cry when I left you at preschool today, but I tear up at the thought of what your growing means. It means that I can't keep you from hurt anymore, and that pains me more than you'll ever know.

But, I know that you will be so strong. You are such a loving little man, and while I know you will learn that sometimes things go bad, you will also learn that you can accomplish a million things you've never even thought of doing. I left you at a table about to practice writing your name, and I bet you had no idea what one day you would learn to write. And after that, you will learn to read, and count and share and you will grow into such a smart and wonderful little boy and I can't wait to see you again today in just one hour and fifty-five minutes just to see how much you've grown. I am so infinitely proud of you, and I can't wait to meet the little boy that you are about to become.