Rock the VOTE!

In addition to the already fun and cool photo contest I have going there is a new one.

This one involves voting. VOTING FOR ME! It's Blog for a Year, a year where I would be paid to professionally blog. What could be more fun? For me that is. Anyway, don't you want to exercise your right to vote? So click here and vote. You can vote everyday too. Please do it. Do it for T.D. who likes to gnaw on plastic but I can't feed her that!

Vote daily. Tell your friends to vote. Tell your mailman, your personal trainer, tell your friends and family-VOTE FOR VICKY!

For the Birds? Before the Birds!

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. today. Great googly moogly why?!? The birds weren't even up yet. Darkness stole every corner of the house. Except the basement. I left the light on.

The basement, my Fortress of Solitude, also known as the office. I would love to think of it as the Bat Cave, but it's not. The tiny corner I have created just puts my back to the clutter of retired baby gear, tools, the laundry monster's cave, and some old, unused appliances. Sometimes I think someone might be living back there, then I realize I'm just paranoid.

I'm up today because I'm hungry. I'm hungry for work. I am looking for, no, I NEED a good writing job. Something that pays more than ten bucks for 800 words. Who are those people anyway? I've been working for free too much lately. I took on a lot of free assignments because I thought I had a somewhat regular gig going. A paid one. I'm realizing now that doesn't seem to be the case. What is going on with that situation even I don't know. It's frustrating and has taken up a lot of time. Time I thought I would be compensated for. I am sick of thinking of about it.

So here I sit, up before even the birds, trolling for work, working on some small projects, really needing to find one that actually pays. I knew going into this business it would be hard to break into, but I was confident enough to know that I do have a smidgen at least of talent. Lately though I've been doubting myself. I've been sucked dry. The writing for free, the guinea pigging myself out, and the endless queries are leaving me parched. I feel like a dried up leaf. A dried up leaf someone used to scrape dog crap (from my neighbors yard) off their shoe with. I am now trying to crawl out of that barren pit and find the funny again.

Maybe if I watch T.D. like a hawk today I'll notice her doing her own sketch comedy routine. She mentioned vaudeville making a comeback the other day. Maybe the dog will do something amusing rather than bark at the asshat who lives behind me. The man has a right to run his dogs. He does NOT have the right to smirk at my dog and me and laugh as I yell at her to "Shut the F (frickle?) up!" Maybe something will be on TV besides craptastic 'Sunset Tan' and other shitty reality shows. I yearn for decent television. My DVD player is tired of playing 'Arrested Development' and 'Undeclared'.

So if you know of anyone needing a writer....

Seriously.

Picture Contest!

If you can correctly guess what this picture is you will win a truly unusual prize package. Contents of prize package listed below. Contest goes until Monday, June 4, 2007. Please put your guesses in the comment section and leave a way for me to contact you in case you have the winning guess.



Prize Package Contents

One Large 'This is What a Feminist Looks Like' t-shirt
One tube of Arbonne Intelligence Hand Cream
One tube of Arbonne Herbal Foot Cream
One Arbonne lip pencil in Innocent
One travel size set of H20's MILK shampoo and conditioner
Copy of 'Bitter is the New Black' by Jen Lancaster
And more!


Hey! I do a lot of product reviews and some of this stuff is over flow I get to pass on to friends. Well, not the shirt or the book. I just think that is a cool shirt. I have one with pink writing! Bitter is one of my fave books too.

A Case of the Spins and NO I'm Not Pregnant

So much and yet almost nothing went on this past holiday/birthday weekend. We headed south late Thursday in an uneventful fashion and hit my MiL's. The weather could not have been better for a relaxing weekend by the water. Relaxing to extreme itchy boredom for some. That some being me. Let's just say that by Saturday, my actual birthday, I had just about enough laying around. I was slowly losing my mind.

SEQUENCE OF EVENTS

10 p.m.- Arrive. Unpack. Hit bed. Aaah.

FRIDAY- Finish book by pool. Start second book (Yeah! New Jen Lancaster!) Eat a total of 6 pancakes, 2 homemade sausage patties, lots of Doritos, soda, a brownie sundae, popcorn, and various other unhealthy items but oh so yummy. Some fruit might have snuck in there but probably covered with either cheese or chocolate.

SATURDAY- My birthday. Hurrah! Am 31. Joy. Hmm... Eat eggs Benedict. Oof. Try to go for run, but find I am almost too stuffed with carbs and candy that I can barely trot. Feel heavy. Convince H to not take a third nap and drive into quaint country town for lunch. Eat cheesy panini and peruse homemade ice cream. Have now consumed about 4-5 cups of coffee. Remember that later.

Head back to MiL's for more supine positions and reading. I am plowing through 'Bright Lights, Big Ass.' H decides to not opt for that 5th nap and wants to go for a boat ride. T.D. is put in life vest and we all trot down to the pier. I feel sick. The simple act of walking and standing on the pier is making me all spinny. When H asks me to climb aboard first to then take T.D. on board I almost puke with the thought of how unsteady I feel. Yuk. Although nice because I REALLY did NOT want to go on a boat ride. I'm feeling too lethargic to sit anywhere other than the couch. I might need to cram in a few pieces of cheese and salted items into my pie hole to make it back to the house safely.

Back inside I read and try to nap. I am finally napping (my first all weekend) and the phone rings. It rings more. And then again. I should break my "not my phone so I will not answer" rule. It's my MiL. She's no longer on the boat, but at a friends. Seems the boat has had engine trouble and they have been picked up by friends and brought there. Shall they risk driving home with no car seat for T.D. or should I drive to pick them up? I will pick them up. The directions to get to this place involve many twisty turns and hills on back roads. This thought alone makes me want to hurl all my cheese and chocolate imbibed products on the pretty tiled floor. Ick. MiL asks if I'm still woozy. Yes.

MiL- "Have you missed your period?" Tinkly laughter.

Me- "No!" I cringe. Nervous laughter. I'm really going to be ill now. She just said that in front of someone I don't even know. This brings our relationship to a whole new level. One I'm not quite into and ready for. Eek. I gurgle and groan that I am fine. I will pick them up. Sigh.

I cram some chicken, cheese and assorted fatty products into my mouth hoping to feel better and grab a Coke. Just as I'm about to leave I see H heading back up the dock. Joy! My MiL's husband opts to pick them all up with a car seat. YEAH!

I head back to the den and the safety of the non-spinning couch. Really? What is wrong with me? It's my damn birthday!

Later I hear my MiL ask H if I'm possibly pregnant. I see his face as he is visibly uncomfortable when she poses the missed period question again. Ick. Just ick. I shuffle away to save myself from the rest of the conversation.

DINNER HOUR- Coconut cake, lots of food, and candles. I receive a laptop, a flight home with T.D. and my MiL, a vegetable peeler (H's idea of of a joke- a proper gift for the proper wifey!), and this


Ha Ha. Finish Jen Lancaster book. Good read! Love you Jen! Hurry up with book three!

SUNDAY- Head home. YEAH! Movies with H! Johnny Depp in Jack Sparrow glory. Or not. On the way to the movies H trips on the front steps and is mildly injured. At the mall pre-movie to buy shoes an extremely molasses in January is quicker older woman weaves around in front of us tripping up H and causing me to step on his foot. He groans in pain. Does funny little pain dance and curses at me and well, everything. Fists clenched he heads off to buy shoes. He's limping. By dinner his ankles is swelling. I make a Target run for instant cold packs and pain reliever. We hit the theatre. It doesn't last. H is in agony. His drawn white face and painful movements have us asking for a refund on our tickets. A night of swashbuckling is not to be. At least we don't have to sit next to the teens in pirate garb.

MONDAY- Last day of holiday. H's ankle is much improved after icing and wrapping. We hit the movies. A day on the high seas in a darkened theatre is more my speed. I am non plussed with the film, but enjoy the outing all the same. We dine al fresco that night and relax. Aaah. A nice way to end the weekend.

LATER THAT NIGHT- H and I are in agony. A weekend of waffles, sausage, pancakes, cake, salted tasty treats, too much booze and soda, plus ice cream and whatever else we forced into our gaping holiday food imbibing mouths has taken a toll. We are hot and cold. Our stomachs in knots. Lack of exercise contributes. We lay awake moaning and breathing heavy and it's not in fun. I cannot wait for the weekend to end.

TUESDAY- Worked out. Drunk gallons of water. Fruit and veggies pack the house. We are back on track.

I am no longer spinny and I AM NOT PREGNANT.

Reviews

While I sit here reading, noshing and generally being slothful on my birthday weekend go hang a right and check out Mummy's Product Reviews. There's lots of new stuff to peruse! More next week too including an interview with Mallory Lewis of Lamb Chop fame.

Also, my friend Charlotte has stated there is such a thing as MSB. Married Secret Behavior- what we all do and keep from our partners. Definitely. I too am guilty of MSB. Since H is a reader though I have my secrets to keep.

PSB - Are You Guilty too?

PSB, Parent Secret Behavior, not to be confused or limited to SSB (Secret Single Behavior) happens daily. It's everywhere you turn. The Mom who reads trashy novels in the closet or crawl space. The Dad who smokes behind the shed at night. We're all guilty of PSB.

My PSB? Ahem...I don't have a PSB. Really. OK, fine. It's Back Eating. Back Eating, a syndrome with symptoms of furtive eating with your back to the kids and sometimes spouse, usually in a corner or facing the kitchen counters. The child cannot see you eating. They think Mommy is just chopping vegetables or glancing at a cookbook. They will not glom on to you or expect you to share this food as they cannot even see you eating it. Back Eating. I love it. I probably do it everyday. Cookies? I'm Back Eating them. That extra slice of cheese T.D. thought I put in the fridge? Back Eaten. It's sneaky, risky at times, and wholly satisfying.

I wonder how long I can keep up my PSB before T.D. catches on. I wonder what H's PSB is? I haven't caught him at anything besides spending way longer than I thought possible going over his fantasy baseball league.

So what's your PSB? Give it up. You know you want to.

One of THOSE days

I stepped in pee this morning. Warm pee on carpet. On the soul of my foot. Just sunk right in. Is anything more disgusting? Probably, but it just really got me going. Did T.D. take a leak on the floor. Nope. The damn dog. The dog who walks in front really slowly when I'm carrying heavy loads of laundry or climbing the stairs with a twisting T.D. or bags of stuff. The dog who refuses to eat her food lately making herself puke from starvation (no, there isn't anything wrong with her) which I then get to clean up. That damn dog. I love her most days. Just not today.

As I sit here thinking of deadlines I have, packing that needs to be done, my impending birthday, and loads of other stuff all I want to do is sit on my deck in the sun and read a book. I have tons of them to get through. I don't want to guinea pig myself today (too late) trying some new product. I only want to lounge like a little sun lizard on a rock. I want to actually look out at the water view I have and not think about how great it is that I have it. That's the thing about working for yourself sometimes. You push so hard and never stop working that when you actually need to stop working you find guilt at your doorstep with a large suitcase asking if he can sit for a spell.

I'm thinking that if I hadn't stepped in pee this morning, spilled soda in my car, and fallen up the stairs impaling myself on a step and knocking my chin, all before noon today I would have a better outlook. I wouldn't be thinking so much about the deck. The deck and my millions of fun books to read.

My New Addiction

Continuing the 3-1 Festivities

After a lot of shuffling, giggling, and generally odd noises from behind a closed door T.D. and H emerged with this and posted it at our front door. There's no hiding it's my birthday this week from the neighbors. Note the marker on T.D.'s knees.

Groovin' on a Sunday Afternoon

The neighborhood HOA has gone all spring cleaning on us over here and in the last few weeks they have sent out notices on retina searing orange paper asking us not to park in our spots for a while. We do it and usually do not see anything different. Yesterday, though they sealed our parking areas and roads in record time making me think that little elves where out there working when I wasn't looking. How else could only two guys do so much work in such a short time? It's a long street!

I digress. This whole "no parking" thing has us moving our cars a few streets away from our houses periodically. Sunday I realized that this task would make my predictable Monday jaunt to the local food emporium insanely difficult. Groceries, toddler, hot May day, trekking the streets back and forth equals Death March. Not going to happen. I grumbled to H. He had a brilliant suggestion. Go now. Go Sunday afternoon. Go without T.D. Hmm.. what?! Go grocery shopping and not have someone throw the produce on the floor, bruising it into an unfamiliar state? Go without the eardrum splitting screaming? Really? That can still happen? In less time than it takes head lice to hop from one head to another I was off. That's really fast for those of you who have not had the pleasure of seeing lice in action. As I ran out the door I heard H say, "Take your iPod. You'll love it."

I did take my iPod. As I rounded the first aisle I furtively took it out and nestled it into my Capri pants pocket. 'Freedom 90' by George Michael blasted on. My step got a little sassy. I threw some broccoli and green beans in the cart with pizazz. Ta Da! As I cruised the aisles in my own little White Stripes world I noticed that grocery shopping was fun. I had some trouble concentrating on my list when 'Get Down on It' came on, but the trip went faster and I did not care about anyone else in the store. I only cared that I had some good tunes playing. The need to do a little spin amidst the slew of soy and stir fry sauce was too much to control. I think I even smiled at people as they passed. I was a bit sad when I had to turn it off to go through checkout. It all ended so soon.

It's odd and mildly interesting to note this change. Having a child has made a task I normally love one I now stress about. The constant fear of something being tossed from the cart and not noticing (sort of like car keys) and the attitude the grocery store sometimes induces makes me cringe and grow weary upon simply pulling into the parking lot. I might have to start shopping on Sunday's alone at least once in a while to keep a decent perspective. I highly recommend taking music with or without kids to the grocery store.

As I got into the car to make my way home 'Icky Thump' by the White Stripes came on making the trip just that much better.

Happy, Happy!

I'm turning the big 3-1 this week. Not to be confused with 4-0 or last year's big 3-0 where I threw myself a big ol' party that included a very large cake, too much alcohol, H being dubbed 'chocolate puke stain' (CPS for short) for a while, and an ambulance being called. And no, it was not due to a white trash type fight or too much drink. Needless to say it was a party to remember.

This year I'm a little more sedate in my partying. It's relaxation and a bit of a getaway I'm looking for. I'll be strolling waterside, lounging by the pool, and reading at my MiL's. I know. I'm choosing to spend my birthday at my Mother-in-law's house. We have a good relationship though so when she offered I jumped. Her house is made for resting and it's just far enough away to feel like we've gone somewhere. Coconut cake will be served. Is there anything better?

I comprised a little 3-1 wish list (see right sidebar) for any interested parties. It's short and sweet and to the point. Beyond wishing to get my eyebrows waxed soon there isn't much I really want. Massages are always nice, but I'm really jonesing for a laptop to make my working life better.

For a little funny click here. Izzy finds the funniest things.

Adventures into Costcoland

I have one friend who thinks that going to church on Sunday's equals adulthood. Another simply thinks the act of getting married means you have truly crossed that threshold. For H and me that trek is the one to Costco. Nothing screams you have entered adulthood more to us than obtaining a membership to one of those buy-in-bulk stores. It just seems like you are so prepared and thinking economically. Like you really know what you want and how much you need and at what price. It's so...suburban.

A Costco has been built near our house. Oh dreaded curses. Why?! We already have a BJ's and Sam's Club (NEVER!). We don't NEED a Costco. I grumbled and muttered my way through it's construction the last few months. It sucking up parking space as it glommed on to our local outlet mall. Stupid Costco. Land of bulk and all things I don't have a need for. Then the buzz began.

COSTCO is OPEN!!! My neighbors all cheered. They talked of the exciting deals on diapers and wipes. I flashed back to how in college my roommate and I would use his Mom's club card and wander around eating free snacks on a slow Sunday afternoon. That was kind of fun. The allure of Costco and it's grandeur in the world of large pallets of well, stuff began to get to me. I want to go to COSTCO!!! I convinced H to check it out and to my shock, he had never been to one. Never been to giant, super, mega-land Costco?! Well we simply must go!

We packed up the car, T.D. and all, and headed in. We roamed the aisles looking up heavenward at stacked reams of office paper, refrigerators at unheard of prices (read cheap!), and tried some tasty desserts. I laughed at the immense blocks of cheese and gasped at the truly low prices on baby wipes. Organic chicken was not bad either. T.D. got a bit fussy towards the end and H tossed her his keys to play with to calm her down. She was not swayed by the 200 count boxes of tampons or cases of potted meat. She only seemed enthused by the tiny Lily Pulitzer dresses for only $21.99. Sadly not in her tiny dictator size. She might have done it then in anger. We simply don't know.

All we know is that upon exiting the store, sans membership, H exclaimed he no longer had his keys. That's right. We lost his car keys in giant, mega behemoth- land that is Costco. We cringed and sighed. He said rather grimly, "I'm going in." I tended to an ever increasingly impatient T.D. She was in no mood to hang out in front of Costco. It's not dignified for a dictator to be seen there. About fifteen minutes later H came out defeated. No keys. I looked him in the eye and said, "I'm going. I can find them."

Armed with experience of the throwing distance of keys by T.D. and the level I knew I would find those keys. That and my special sense a la Allison Dubois I knew I would narrow in on them. I looked under tables and carts. I went through the frozen food section and back through the world of diapers and bulk wipes. Nothing. I looked up and I looked down aisles. I passed through the cleaning products where the giant Jet Dry bottle still called my name. Seriously! $8.49 for a triple sized bottle?! I want it! I kept looking. Then I literally knew. I knew where those keys were. I quick stepped it to the Lily Pulitzer table and ambled around looking underneath the tables of Tommy Bahama shirts and Polo shorts. Eureka!! There were H's keys! Exactly where I saw them in my mind. YES! I rounded the corner and there were H and T.D. back in the store. I triumphantly held up the keys grinning like a Cheshire cat. We can go home. We can go home and leave this maze of wooden pallets stacked skyward and giant bags of trail mix.

We didn't get a membership. We may in the future. For now that brief visit into adult land a.k.a Costco was enough.

Oh Geez....More Random Stuff

I don't know what is sadder hearing Hasselhoff's daughter in the background and knowing why she's doing this or the fate of that burger. See here for the burger chomping fest.


And because it never stops being funny, the oldie but goodie, this is for you H.



While perusing the fine fruits of Trader Joe's the other day with T.D., who incidentally does not like to hold a bag of frozen peas for the entire shopping trip duration, a woman came up to us and said,"Oh! Oh she's real! I thought you had a doll in the front of your carriage!"

Um... yeah, because I'm the crazy nut job who brings dolls to a store to stroll around and not the crazy nut job who just asks real people if their actual children are dolls.

Is it bad that I spent part of Girls Night sipping vodka while others drank water? Another night where I eat the wholesome goodness of french fries, apple crisp and alcohol. Good times.

Why 'Fight Club' is Educational

'Fight Club' is one of my favorite movies. It's seedy core just gets into me today as much as it did when it debuted in theaters. Quite frankly at the time the movie came out I was feeling a little too much like Edward Norton's character and wanting my own Fight Club. The movie hooked me and made me a bonafide Ihavetoreadeverythinginsight Chuck Palahniuk fan.

I was watching it the other day and got interrupted. T.D. was up from her nap H informed me. Time to shut Fight Club off. Apparently Fight Club isn't for kids. Hmmph. I muttered something about it being educational and a valuable source of information, but he wasn't buying it. Then I thought, "Hey! Wait! Fight Club is so educational!" Here's why...

1. It teaches you to treat wait staff with respect or else. I mean who wants piss in their soup?

2. You learn a trade. Soap making. Easy peasy once you obtain some human fat!

3. Lessons in Empathy. Empathy for those suffering from testicular cancer, smoking, and all sorts of other diseases real or imagined can be found in self-help groups community-wide. Hug someone today.

4. Commercialism and the Man are the root of all evil while creating a sterile environment.

5. Watch out! That IKEA furniture really is flimsy stuff.

6. Complacency is not an option.

7. Dirty bathtubs can still get you clean.

8. It's fun to learn about Jack's spleen.

9. Satire. It teaches the art of satire like nobodies business.

10. Imaginary friends kick ass!

So see, Fight Club can be educational. It's all in how you look at it? Will I really make my 15 month old miniature Stalin watch it? Probably not. I'll just have to continue to take my hits in secret.

!!!News Flash!!!
The wonderful women at 5 Minutes for Mom have put up my story today! Read it here.

PBN-Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box

I have to admit I eagerly awaited the arrival of this book with almost too much excitement. ‘Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box’, by Ann Dunnewold, Ph.D. offers “workable solutions to the Mommy Madness”. I could not wait to crack it open and prove that I am right in my parenting ways. The idea of extreme parenting has always been a hot issue with me. Before I had T.D., it got me riled up and now that my daughter is here, it’s even worse. I have to bite my tongue so hard sometimes from flipping out on some of the judgy Mom’s out there. I get so sick of defending my belief about having "me" time or date nights. After I defend myself though, I sometimes wonder and guilt myself into a cyclical series of worries about T.D.’s future. If I let her keep the pacifier now will she talk like Jamie Gumb and wear a skin suit later? Will the fact that I let her listen to non-kid friendly books on CD in the car create a scary mastermind? If she’s not in playgroups everyday will she be socially awkward later? I needed this book and bad if only to stop those voices in my head. I was not prepared however, to find a bit of that extreme parenting in me as I read through Dunnewold’s masterpiece. And yes, it is a masterpiece.

The simple to follow mantras, practical advice, and tips sprinkled throughout the book reinforce Dunnewold’s theories and ideas. The quiz to figure out what type of extreme parent you are (Hi, my name is Vicky and I can be an overproducer at times.) made it easy for me to see where I tend to spin out of control. I have whole strings of days where automatic thoughts run rampant through my mind making me binge out on educational toy sprees and wanting to sign T.D. up for every class in the state. These are followed by more days where I feel wracked with guilt if we haven’t done flashcards and the only reading material she’s had is me reading Newsweek aloud to her. ‘Even June Cleaver’ helped me to realize the ways I do this and that it’s ok to cut myself some slack and talk myself down from my overproducing ledge. Dunnewold discusses how important it is to really find time for you in order to be a better parent. Nothing runs on empty for very long. Having this laid out right in front of me on a page clarified and reinforced it in just the way I need.

I particularly appreciated the helpful websites (hello! www.parenting247.uiuc.edu) peppered throughout the book. Not only are they good resources, but I felt encouraged to know that there were places for me to go and learn more. I sometimes feel lost at sea with my lack of parenting skills and knowledge. More than all this Dunnewold’s premise of how to become a perfectly good parent just really rang true with me. The reassurance I garnered from this book about how it is perfectly alright to lose my temper, have a bad day, be sad, and essentially a human being helped immensely. I often feel I’m on the right path by going against the grain (I live in a hot bed of extreme parenting) so it does wonders to know others back me up and I am heading in the right direction. I could never mold myself into June and am always miserable when I try. The women I see extreme parenting have misery written all over their faces. I oftentimes don’t understand how we got ourselves into this vicious cycle of extreme parenting, judging other parents and scorekeeping with our spouses. Dunnewold’s book laid it all out historically and factually with ways to combat it in ourselves and how to deal with the extreme parenters in our own lives.


‘Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box’ made me sigh with relief that I’m working towards that goal of being a perfectly good parent already while nailing some of my own extreme parenting hang ups. That in itself is worth buying the book for. It is a great reality check. It’s also a steal at $14.95! I cannot wait to share it with other parents and I hope they don’t think I’m judging them by doing so!


*This review and others for this book and great products can be found on the Parent Blogger Network. Check it out today!

Find more reviews on my REVIEW SITE.

Wacky Wednesday

Not really wacky thankfully as it's only 7 a.m. Just Hump Day. I've always hated that term. It always made me think of some dog (particularly a Basset Hound don't ask) humping an old pillow rather than the middle of the week. When people say- YEAH! It's Hump Day! or Happy Hump Day! I always see that nasty old hound going at it with the faded blue pillow and think - eeww! Let's not!

Anyway, we made it. On Monday I didn't think we would. It's Wednesday. I have articles to write, and projects to work on and oh yeah, raise my kid. I also have an ass to workout as it's almost bathing suit season. I just bought a new one which I hope to debut at the hood's kiddie splash park in a few weeks sans pasty thighs. I should formulate some sort of bathing suit ready workout plan or manifesto, but I already know that is a lost cause. Maybe if I spray on enough self-tanner people will only notice how hideously wrong I look and not that my thighs are less than toned to perfection like I want them to be. Sounds like a plan.

So off we go to start our day of working out, keeping T.D. from blood curdling screams which then sends me off to CVS to quickly pick up another month's supply of birth control, and maybe get in some well-deserved nap time.

Happy Basset Hound humping a blue faded pillow day to you!

Fun Times Indeed

Barely awake, puffy eyed and ringed in dark circles I got my coffee yesterday morning and made my way into the office. I had almost gotten through the weekend's emails when T.D. awoke. Not ready! Need more caffeine to handle the beast after a night of her laughing at us and no sleep. I am in an anti-toddler mood, but make my way upstairs to get her.

After a chaotic breakfast where H declared, "you know she's not behaving this way on purpose, just to get to you right?" I muttered back, "yeah, actually I think she is." She's my daughter, she has to have a tiny bone of instigation in her. I got ready, I got T.D. ready amidst the all too common screaming. At 9:03 a.m. we were out the door! Victory was in my grasp! An early start to the day. Hooray for me!

Settled into the car I somehow failed to notice it was lopsided. I was too busy staring at our freaky, dog poop neighbors I suppose. As I backed the car out it made a grinding sound and sort of lagged. WTF? I began to sweat. Maybe it's the A/C? I turn it off. Sweat some more. Nope. Still lagging, still making that funny yet awful grinding noise. Please no. Not today. I just need to go to the store! One thing is all I really need to do! I stop the car and get out. I walk around and as I round the back of the car I see it. A disgusting puddle of a flat tire on the back passenger side. Awesome.

Sighing I get back into the car. Grind our asses back home in the lagging mobile ignoring the stares of my neighbors who by the way do not ask if something is wrong. I call H. I call AAA. Someone will be out in 90 minutes. Sigh... not how the day was supposed to go.

In all the flat took the whole day. The AAA guy arrived on time and changed out the spare under the watchful eye of T.D. She felt the need to ask him what the tire was every .5 seconds and he willingly obliged. Then we took it to the repair shop. While those guys were quick indeed I couldn't get in until the end of the day what with nap and lunch time involved. Such a good thing I had a whole five loads of laundry to do isn't it? I do love to keep busy.

So today we head out, bright and early, to start yesterday all over again.

The Aftermath-Back to Reality

Mother's Day was bliss. T.D. awoke at 6 a.m. but I just grabbed my sleepmask and snuggled deeper into the blankets. When I awoke hours later it was to a fresh, hot latte, flowers, new books, and eggs benedict. I read the entire Sunday Post. It was pure heaven. The whole day was like this. Not cleaning, no cooking, reading and relaxing with family and friends. It was heaven. As we settled in to watch an image searing movie, T.D. tucked into bed, I thank H for such a perfect day. It really was.

12:07 a.m.- Reality check- T.D. wakes up crying. No screaming. Shreiks to wake Ramses the Dead. I stumble into her room and place her back down with her blanket.
Silence. I have been asleep maybe 45 minutes as that aforementioned image searing film has plagued my thoughts all night causing me to toss and turn and twist the sheets.

12:35 a.m.- More crying. I held her for a while and tucked her back in. H mentioned giving her the dreaded pacifier and I balked. No way! (while I have been giving it to her again in the morning as a way to get a few hours of work in before she officially starts her day it is for no other time. I am weak. I know.)

1:17 a.m.- What fresh hell is this?! The cries coming from across the hall are witching! I change T.D.'s diaper and hold her close, falling asleep. Tuck her back in with her precious blanky and stumble back to bed. Thank God I didn't take a Sonata tonight!

2:03 a.m.- I am insane. I hate that beast that is dwelling in a wood slatted cage across the hall. Nothing soothes it. H fetches cup of milk. T.D. wails on. Throws her blankets. A generally pissy attitude is held by the czar. High pitched evil laughter erupts from her periodically amidst the wails.

2:17 a.m.- Back up. I plug that little hole with a pacifier. I quietly yet firmly whisper/hiss to her that if she throws that blanket out of the crib one more time she will never see it again. I am inches from her face. She laughs right in it as if to say, "Silly subject, you have no say." Dragging my tired ass back into the bedroom H asks, "Did that reasoning work with her?" Guess I was louder than hissing.

2:55 a.m.- More shrill shrieks and wails. Tylenol is administered. More bottle drinking. I take her to bed with us. H agrees this just might be the golden ticket. Dictators do NOT share bed space. She thrashes about slapping me in the face, kicking both of us in the groin areas multiple times and generally laughing and poking our eyes out.

3:13 a.m.- I have placed her back in the crib. I tell her no one is coming for her EVER. Ok, not ever. But, not until daybreak so she might as well get comfy. I am hating the fact that I had such a perfect Mother's Day. This just kills me. It's like payback, a real slap of reality just in case I thought life could really be that calm and peaceful for more than twelve hours.

7:10 a.m.- wake up. So freakin' tired my legs ache. My brain is stuffed with cotton and the dark circles under my eyes are not from leaving my mascara on. I crave sleep but guess what. It's T.D.'s breakfast hour and like Cinderella I must begin my day's toil.

Party Over Here, Party Over There

HEY! Do you know what today is kiddies? That's right! Today is the day for a Blog Blast. What's a blog blast you ask? Well, as Kristen calls it, "it's like a blog carnival without the scary blog clowns."

The whole affair is in honor of Mother's Day and is sponsored by PBN and Founder of Light Iris Kevin. He's been wearing a Preggo suit all month long. Eek! Good man, that Kevin is. Light Iris is launching this weekend and is running some GREAT CONTESTS with FUN PRIZES. PBN is having contests too. You too can participate by heading over and posting about 'What Makes You a Mother'. So grab your chance in winning the coveted oh so sweet $100 SPA FINDER gift card and much more!

What Makes You a Mother?

Besides the labor? Gee… you would think that would have done it and instantly made me a Mom. Maybe to some women it does, but it didn’t work that way with me. It was much more of a gradual thing.

I am a Mom when I press my face up to my daughters and actually see the contentment in her eyes.

I am a Mom made up of graham cracker crumbs, sticky juice ridden kitchen floors, a disorganized diaper bag, the kid without the jacket, the one who likes loud bass and head banging and breathing into a cup to sound like Darth Vader. That makes me a Mom who sees herself in her child.

It is more than the fact that she wants me when she is sick or tired or hurt. It is that I make her smile and laugh. She makes me carefree and to stay outdoors just a little bit longer than I would on an otherwise average day.

It is true I became a mother the minute I found out about her, but it’s the day in and day out, the days of too much grilled cheese and not enough naps to go around. The moments when we hang out on the floor having afternoon sugary snacks that make me the Mom who I am and never knew I wanted to be.

I am a Mom because having my daughter gave me the freedom to think of life outside the box. To see that my dreams can be pursued no matter what age or situation I am in. I am a Mom who will teach her daughter to see life the same way and that it doesn’t have to be as organized as I originally thought.




Seriously? That clown at the top is starting to freak me out.

Cry for Help

I'm a good little blogger. I think. I write posts daily, sometimes more than once on several different blogs. I do copy for some other sites, pick up projects and in all show that my love is for writing. It's my passion. My addiction is blogging. If BlogHer '07 was feasible this year I would be right there in the thick of it sucking up information like a good little sponge while slurping down fun drinks and geeking out meeting "the cool" bloggers.

But, like any addict the more I get, the more I seem to want. Awards are more than wonderful. They help me get through the dark days. Fan mail, presents, additional work, and comments all feed my black addict hole of need. I think we bloggers know what I'm talking about. They keep me going on some days when I think that absolutely no one cares or reads. The desire for recognition can get pretty damn desirable and infectious. Are we as good as so and so? Will we ever be in the realm of that person? Do they read us and think "Pffft! What a hack!"

There is just one thing that this little blogger wants and has been trying to do for quite some time. Get ad space on Blogads. However, this requires a SPONSOR from someone already involved and reaping the Blogads benefits. That is my CRY FOR HELP. Won't someone please sponsor me? Some nice blogger out there already involved in Blogads must want to do it and help a fellow blogger out. If anything you can feel good in the fact that by helping me out you are also keeping me from squeezing T.D.'s feet into too small shoes. All good bloggers need a chance. SPONSOR ME!

Yes, it's shameless begging. What blogger doesn't have a few shameless moments here and there?

PBN-Boca Beth Language Learning Series

The Boca Beth Language Learning Series DVD, CD, activity book, and Boca puppet arrived at our doorstep one day and I have to admit I was a bit leery of it. It just seemed like so much stuff to get my one-year-old daughter engaged in. Boca Beth, “bringing Spanish to life” seeks to find fun and easy ways to give young children a head start on becoming bilingual. My daughter is just on the verge of talking and I wondered if this would only confuse her.

We took out the Boca puppet first and played and familiarized her with it. She enjoyed discovering that she too could make Boca’s mouth move. Ever since Boca is now dragged out and shoved at me when we watch the DVD. We pushed play on the DVD, “I like Animals”, and immediately she got closer to the TV screen and squeaked with happiness. She laughed and clapped her hands, moved to the music, and even did a few turns in a circle, which was a brand new move for her. It kept her attention the whole time! During the children’s song such as, “No More Monkey’s Jumping on the Bed” and “I See a …” she laughed and danced. She even shook the tiny red maraca that was included with the set. She now takes that thing everywhere including Target and the Post Office. As she watched the kids on the DVD, she tried to emulate their gestures and movements and bounced up and down excitedly the whole way through. Now every time I turn on the Boca Beth, “I Love Animals”, DVD she is happily entertained.

The coloring/activity book is simple and fun, but too much for a one year old. We colored some pictures and looked it over, but she still prefers tearing paper and scribbling. I plan on using the activity book in a few months, as it seems to be a good educational accompaniment. The CD, “My First Songs in Spanish” mimics the songs in the DVD. She recognized the songs instantly and smiled. She moved to the music as we sang songs about numbers, animals, and colors. I myself did not enjoy the CD. It felt repetitive and started to grate on my nerves. I will continue to use the CD though because she does respond to it and likes it, but not as often as the DVD, which I think is the gem of the whole set.

I do believe that after she masters some words in English we can teach her some in Spanish by using the Boca Beth set. Boca has become a staple toy in our house, especially the maraca. We play the DVD often during the week, the CD less often. Each time I know she is learning and happy while doing it.

The price for the Boca Beth set we have, which includes the Boca puppet, maraca, DVD, music CD, and coloring activity book, retails for $29.99. This is an incredible price for what you receive. I would definitely recommend this as a gift or to anyone who wants to take steps in teaching their children Spanish.



Parent Bloggers Network is giving away a whole set of Boca Beth's program! Head on over there to win it NOW!

The Impossible Dream?

Last year was my first Mother's Day. It did not go as planned. I woke up early and dragged H and a two-month old T.D. out of the house into the early morning fog and drizzle to do a charity walk- The Y-Me Walk to Empower. It's held each Mom's Day in many major cities.

When we got home I was exhausted, cranky beyond belief, and pretty much a massive beast. I only wanted a nap and that didn't happen. I wanted to be alone. That didn't happen either. When it didn't happen I just became more of a wretched evil pain. Why did this happen? It's not because H didn't want to please me, it was simply the fact that I didn't voice what I actually wanted. I felt bad saying, "On my very first Mother's Day I want the house to myself. Go."

This year I have already stated what I want. No cooking, sleeping in, and I may leave the house for a while alone. I will not be cleaning up either. To me, Mother's Day is my "official" day off if I so choose. Same goes for Father's Day by the way if your undies were getting into a "that's not fair!" bunch.

I know for a fact that this is what A LOT of Mom's want for their day. Yet they often don't get it. So I ask you- what it is you want this Mother's day? Put your comments here and we'll see what the consensus is.

** REMEMBER** Friday we'll be having some prizes and a fun Blog Carnival happening here so check back!

Axe Through My Skull Tuesday

Huh. So I guess maybe I overdid it yesterday. Instead of resting my tired over walked bones and self I did about five loads of laundry, was up unpacking my bag at 5 a.m., did dishes, checked email, did some writing and work and even threw in a play date for good measure. Cracked? Just a tad I suppose.

Today, I feel as if someone is constantly drilling in my head. My hearing goes in and out and I feel as if someone pulled the plug in me somewhere and my insides and energy have all oozed out. Not pretty. I dressed T.D. in an orange shirt, aqua pants with turquoise and white polka dot socks, and hot pink shoes that squeak (I was feeling masochistic I guess) and realized that I was burning my poor retinas just by looking at her ensemble.

The sheer idea that I needed to shower and head to the Bloom around the corner made me queasy and that I might be making a journey into the seventh ring of hell. I feel like I need to be wearing dark shades indoors in my basement it's so bad. No amount of coffee, water, and Excedrin cocktails is kicking it.

It's nap time and I'm going to go put my head in a vice as that will probably feel infinitely better than what is buzzing around in there right now.

Walking for a Cure

Cheer stop in Chevy Chase, MD. Saturday May 5, 2007

At 3:31 a.m. on Saturday my alarm went off. I snoozed a bit and finally roused myself enough to shower, quickly gather my gear up, and eat a tasty fluffernutter sandwich before my ride came to bring me into the city. The drive in was quiet as we were all thinking about the weekend ahead, had laryngitis or simply were too sleepy to talk. It was only 4:45 in the morning after all.

Amid a sea of visors, baseball hats, fanny packs and pink ribbons we made our way to Opening Ceremonies for the 2007 Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. The sun was trying to make a valiant effort for us as we learned what the weekend held and did our stretches in groups. A bit more awake now we held our hands high and that of our neighbors as we made a pact that we would fight for a cure, walk for a cure, and walk even more to spread awareness about breast cancer. Slowly the herd of walkers made their way away from the Kennedy Center and out into the quiet of the early morning.

Along the way that day we passed over the Key Bridge into Georgetown. We were greeted by cheers and banners of encouragement. M Street with all it's normally crowded shops was still silent. It was heaven. We traveled through elegant neighborhoods with graceful yards and quaint town homes. Brightly painted homes and old women with candy and donuts urged us on as some of us would be walking 13 or 26 miles that day. Here and there we walked in clusters and packs talking amongst ourselves and cheering each other on. We commented on team t-shirts and decorations. I was dubbed a "Wing Girl" with my group as we walked into Chevy Chase.

My wings. I wore them with pride all weekend. Each ribbon holding a name of someone now passed or currently surviving or fighting. One woman remarked that I was "too young to have that many names." I smiled at her and said, "and that is precisely why I am walking. There ARE too many already." My teammates wore wings with names as well. All different names. Rarely did we have a person in common, except for our teammate who is currently fighting her own breast cancer battle and unable to walk and one for our dear friend and team member's mother who passed earlier this year. It was a somber walk for many of us on our team. We were not the same bunch that has walked in years past. We were all thinking of this past year and those we've lost or who have been diagnosed and our own issues.

The Pack walked on as clouds spread and winds picked up. We lunched on a hospital lawn amidst family and friends. We walked through Bethesda and on into Silver Spring. We set up our tents in just the nick of time. Then the rains came. We dashed to and fro shaking in the cold and all wishing that this year we had opted to stay in a hotel or at home overnight. We went to bed pretty early this year and blocked out the camp noises as we burrowed under our many layers of sleeping bags, clothing, and Mylar blankets. I woke up at dawn shivering and damp. I didn't think I would ever get that chill out of my core.

Day two started out brisk and ended up sunny and bright. We had thirteen miles to walk that day. We hit the pavement early and walked until lunch. I barely noticed as Maryland turned into D.C. and we found ourselves out of Takoma Park. I took a breather and chanced to look around and noticed we were in the land of Embassies. I took photos and wore a pink and silver boa for cheer. I ate candy, cookies and not enough water. I saw Mohawk Man, the Cow Man, a pink Cadillac, two Darth Vader's and a Storm Trooper as I walked further into the city nearing our finish line. There were even tween boys with bras on their heads a la Weird Science to give us a laugh and cheer us on. We found that the closer we got the more we had to smile about as signs declared that we "do make a difference" and "each step is one step closer to a cure". Those signs really helped.

We heard the finish line before we saw it. The steps to the Kennedy Center a sea of pink. Pink balloons, shirts, hats, streamers, pink EVERYTHING! Cameras flashing, people cheering as we climbed the steps. It was wonderful! It makes it all worth it. You no longer care that you are caked in dirt and may have a blister that has been biting you for miles. You just want to hug someone, shed a tear in joy that you made it in the name of someone who couldn't this year, and shout out loud that it's done!

Through the wind, rain, sun, and sometimes long bathroom lines the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer came and went. It's done. I'm sad. I feel like to quote my friend and team captain, Candi, "it came at us like a bull this year, and then just fizzled." There was too much. Too many reasons to walk this year. It was bittersweet. Perhaps that is why I will choose to walk again.

Pink Family

Because I'm still processing the entire weekend and am damn tired here's a photo from Day One of the Avon Walk.

H and T.D. came out to cheer me on.


Also stay tuned - later this week there will be chances to win many wonderful prizes! Spread the word!

One Step, Two Steps, Many, Many Pink Steps

How on earth is it Friday already? How is it possible that in a few short hours I will be standing in a very long line with a bunch of crazily pink clad women registering for the Avon Walk? It's Event Eve tonight and I just cannot believe that it's already here.

I am excited beyond belief. I enjoy this walk for so many reasons. Reasons like my team kicks ass and we've raised over 35K and counting this year. You see the city in a whole different way walking on foot. I eat my weight in gold fish crackers each year and end up filling my quota on orange Gatorade. I feel inspired, relaxed, happy, tears are shed, hugs are shared all around and you meet some truly wonderful people. I hug and even let people hug me. It's just an incredible feeling I cannot describe, whether you are doing your first walk or fifth, knowing you are part of something bigger and making things happen.

So think of me this weekend as I walk many miles around the city I love. Think of what you can do to help a cause you care about too. If you live in the area- COME OUT AND CHEER for a bit. We walkers need it!

Boston you are next on the list for next weekend! Support your walkers!

PBN-Brainy Baby Product Review

My daughter does not watch television. Believe me on those days where I have a deadline to meet I’ve tried, always in vain, to get her to watch some sort of public television approved show. Nothing doing. She is fourteen months old and has the attention span of a fourteen month old, meaning its all “Ooh block fun! Throw block! Bad block! Ooh dolly, love dolly. Boring dolly.” When the Brainy Baby Company sent me their Baby IQ “The World Around Us” DVD, I didn’t hold out much hope of her watching it.

I popped the thirty-five minute DVD in and immediately the sounds of the London Symphony Orchestra filled the room. A-ha! My daughter loves music and was thus riveted to the screen immediately. Her little compact body bounced to the lively introductory tunes as her mouth hung open in surprise and wonder. I was pretty amazed myself. I have never seen her react this way to anything. Colored ink began to splash into water right before her eyes as she swayed to the music. During the animal segment, she laughed and pointed to the screen making the appropriate animal sounds. She liked the season’s segment too. The counting, shapes, and patterns portion of the DVD though short was where we lost her. She just could not stay focused on the dominoes depicting numbers or the various shapes being shown to her from the TV screen.

I have played the whole DVD for her on numerous occasions after that initial test. Each time she moves to the music, laughs, and talks to the vibrant images and bold objects. She genuinely enjoys the DVD only losing interest in the counting and shapes and pattern pieces. I think that at fourteen months she is just not ready for that portion of the show. She’ll get there I’m sure and in the meantime she’s found something she really enjoys watching, over and over and over again. I myself do not mind watching it with her just because she is so happy while it’s playing.

I think this a wonderful DVD. Baby Einstein has not worked in our house and I would happily and easily recommend it or buy it as a gift. The price of $16.95 is a bit higher than some DVD’s but the quality of the images, the set up, and the music make this an excellent and worthy buy.


You can read my other fun reviews here at Mummy's Product Reviews.

Detox a.k.a. Stealing Food From Toddlers

After a week of too much cake, grilled food and I'm not talking veggies, and all things not in the realm of healthy food H and I decided that we needed to detox ourselves. To us that means only water, water with lemon, no carbs, no sugar, no refined or processed foods. Fruit is added in on day two or three in moderation. No meat. Sorry Hilshire. Veggies are what we live on with some nuts for craziness.

The first day is always the hardest. You crave whatever you have had too much of and you desperately think of food all day. A Fluffernutter, that hidden chocolate in my nightstand, or cheese glorious cheese! Dinner that night was a bleak affair. We silently munched our mung beans and tofu while trying to find the hidden joy in detoxing our bodies.

Day two is the energy surge. Your mind and body begin to clear and suddenly you can attack many projects. I become tres productive. Downing that morning glass of lemon water really charges up my system! However, as the day wore on so did the constant feeling of wanting more. I served T.D. mac 'n' cheese and couldn't stop inhaling it's cheesy goodness. I eyed her animal crackers like a wild, starved animal and yes, I confess, one did find it's way into my mouth. The best damn animal cracker of my life! To taste that classic lemony flavor was pure heaven in the shape of a monkey. I reformed myself until later that day. H came home and we had dinner. Tasty black beans and sauteed veggies. We settled in for the night. An hour later after devouring an apple and a second helping of black beans I found I was still quite hungry. Starving actually. I began to think of food again. Then I heard rustling in the kitchen. The microwave was going. H walks into the living room where I'm reading with a giant slab of birthday cake. I glare at him and say, "If this is supposed to trick me into getting off detox it won't work!" He smiles and says, "I'm 30 freakin' years old! If I want cake I'm going to eat cake!" He then shows me his piece which is bigger than mine. Mmmm cake. I'll eat more veggies tomorrow I swear.

Motherhood, nothing like it

May 1st means it's time for The Blog Exchange! Join me in welcoming Jerri Ann from A Crack'n Life as our blog exchange guest today. The theme for this one is of course, Motherhood. You can find me over at her space. Enjoy!

You know, you hear all kinds of stuff when you are pregnant, some good, some bad, some just plain ugly. But, you have to decide for yourself what is worth remembering and what is ready for…the trash. One thing that I have heard all my life is in reference to poop. First of all, as a pre-parent, most folks use the profane word for poop. As you near your child’s due date, you find yourself using the word poop more and more often. By the time your child is 3 days old, not only have you used the word poop a lot, you’ve told anyone who will listen about your newborns poop. You will describe it in all its glory. You will tell people whether it is hard or soft, how often it occurs, whether it runs out of the diaper or maybe that it is sticky or tacky. I’m not kidding, this transformation from profanity using pre-adult to poop talking parent is a milestone to be remembered.

Now that we have that taken care of, do you wonder exactly what it is that I heard about poop that was so important that I have remembered it all these years? Of course you do. Well, I was told that once you have your own children, coping with poop will be a breeze. Well, regarding your own child’s poop anyway.

I am here to tell you that emphatically, this is not true. If I have anyone in the house with me besides the children, (meaning another adult) I do not change poopy diapers. No, I am not kidding. It absolutely makes me sick. I have been known to call my mom to come to my house simply because one of my adorable boys has filled his diaper. No, I am not kidding about this either. My mother lives about 100 yards from me. Once she was mowing grass and I yelled out the window until I got her attention. She quit mowing to come to my house and change a diaper. No lie.

Another time, while pregnant with Jace, Walker had a poopy diaper. I went in my bedroom while my mother changed the diaper in the next room. Within minutes of that diaper being disposed of, I was vomiting. Yes, again, sadly I say, this too is true.

I don’t care if it is my own child or not, wiping butts, managing poop and its smells is just not something I take lightly. Almost everyone that knows me and visits my house knows how poop affects me and will generally change a poopy diaper if I need them to do it.

All I can say is this, the days immediately following the potty training of son number two, will be grounds for the biggest celebration ever in my house.

I am Jerri Ann, mother of 2 intelligent little boys, ages 2 and 4 and married to a boy genius. I am definitely the underdog in this house and anticipate much doom in the coming days. I am in the process of buying my own daycare so feel free to come on over and visit my blog, regularly where I write about my adventures of being a business owner as well as the trauma that comes with raising 2 boys. I also write a celebrity blog on the same site under advertising and celebrities, a reality tv blog at and a blog about TV Boyfriends Yes, I am a busy blogger and I’d love your company on any or all of my sites.


*If you would like to participate in next month's blog exchange simply head on over here.