Friday, August 31, 2007

Toys made in China..grumble...

Yesterday, I went on a quick run ($100 dollars later) to Toys R Us with my mother. We picked up a few "essentials" for T.D. and friends. One plastic table, four chairs, an entire dinner set, and a bike later we strode into the house only to be asked by my father,"Were those toys made in China?"

Sigh...

How sick am I of thinking of this stuff? Very. I am relieved that we live in a newish house that has no lead paint. I "trust" that my local water company isn't lying to me about what is really in our water. I try my damnedest to keep our house free of toxic cleaners, preservatives, and all manner of bad things. Is it too much to ask that I not have to be so vigilant about toys? Toys are supposed to be fun, not arbiters of death or illness.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm the only one who thinks in such a vicious circle. Is it safe? Is it safe?! I thought that T.D.'s Avent bottles being made in England would be safe. Now maybe not so much. I know that as a child reared in the 70's and 80's we drove around sans seat belts in the back seat of our parents cars. We rode without helmets on our bikes enjoying long distance forays through our towns. Sure, we had the razor blade candy scare and Webster asked us to run and tell, but somehow I don't think our parents were consumed with the thoughts of toxic cleaners, polycarbonate baby bottles, and lead coated toys.

While I try to do the best for my daughter and our family in general I sometimes find myself wondering, is this new circle of thinking another version of extreme parenting? I guess only if I'm paranoid. Which yes, I am.

Anyone want to lend me $100 so I can go buy glassware vs. Tupperware storage containers? My families veggie wheat lasagna needs to be stored.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Ryan Gosling Hates Trans Fats

Another night and another dream with a celeb sharing advice with me. What gives? Is it the fresh New England air making me hallucinate enough to see Ryan Gosling berating passerbys?

Or Dick Cheney playing slots at Mohegan Sun? Yes, folks. He's not in an underground bunker. He's playing slots and keno at Mohegan Sun. Run for your lives.

Don Imus was watching street performers on the roof too right before the fireworks last night. It's a crazy world I tell you when you are living it New England style.

So my dream. A young Ryan (think 'Remember the Titans Ryan) is standing on the side of a country road with a bunch of friends. They are yelling eco-world information at passing cars while hurling used plastic water bottles at them. I come upon this whole mess of a scene and say, "Boys! What are you doing?" Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I'm about 55 in the dream? Ryan lights into me about "this whole stinkin' state is into clogging their arteries and it's no wonder that other countries hate us, because we are a bunch of slow, fatties. We're sweat pant lovin' no style havin', trans fat eatin', egotistical monsters". Wow. He's really upset about it the whole state of the well, state. He started crying about trans fats. It was a tough sight to behold I tell you. I told him that I hate trans fats too and he hugged me and cried some more.

I'm thinking that the migraine I had last night is the culprit. It's certainly not the three trans fat free oreos I consumed (yes, I caved and I loved it!) hours before.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Consumed!

To date on this version of "Mummy Cruises Home Turf" the following has been consumed.

1. No oreos. I'm holding out people. I am resisting the fat!

2. Five clamcakes. Deep-fried goodness oh and with clams.

3. Sand. Beach day!

4. Screams of Terror as H nearly rear-ended a car much smaller than the Pathfinder as he gaped at yet ANOTHER Dunkin Donuts in the New England area. While not a total fan of 'the Nut' Tim Horton's can kiss my now sunburned tookas.

5. Screams of Indignation as my father pointed out my no longer "I've never carried a baby" stomach. Flat most days, not yesterday. Two plates of pasta and meatballs bloated me. Probably that feedbag of popcorn the night before as well.

6. Magazines, books- two.

7. The Bourne Ultimatum. Can I just say I might have a Jason Bourne thing now? Not to be confused with a Matt Damon thing. THAT is just not appealing. Mummy LOVES the fight scenes. As Fogle would say, "Tight!"

8. Superbad. Dig the dance sequence in the beginning and George Michael getting his own flick. The extended version of the Cops? Not so much. Maybe the DVD will have less cops. More Fogle.

9. Time with spouse sans kid. Countless. We watched a full episode of vintage 90210 in the middle of the day snorting ourselves silly with the moussed 90's hair of Dylan McKay (dudes got a HUGE melon!), "bros", and bad outfits. Poor, poor Brian Austen Green. He was such a choade.

10. Sadly no Simon and Simon episodes, but I did make T.D. dance to the Magnum P.I. theme song about 250 times so far. WHY IS THAT ALWAYS ON?!

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Overheards

Standing back a bit in my parents kitchen, I watch my father carve a turkey.

My Mother: Do you want more room than that? Here's a plate. (Mom takes shows him the serving platter)

My Father:
No. I'm fine.

M: (Gets out cutting board and places next to platter) Turn around. I have set up a carving place. Would that be easier for you?

F: No. (Sighs heavily as the electric carving knife hits the roasting pan.)

M: (Moves platter next to roasting pan.) I have a cutting board set up behind you. Here is the platter. Why don't you just carve it up on this. It would be easier. Wouldn't it?

F: No. (Hits the inside of the roasting pan again with the knife. The noise makes my teeth tickle)

M: Silently moves platter closer to roasting pan.

F: Slaps turkey slices onto pan and then... "I can't freakin' carve this thing with all this stuff around!" He moves aside a few misc. items on the counter that seem to be of no consequence.

M: Well... if you had moved the turkey to the cutting board...

I leave the kitchen. It is at this point that I realize both these conflicting traits reside in me and it is just too scary to watch.


LATER THAT NIGHT

H and I sit on the couch in my parents living room watching PBS. I simply can't help myself, I'm a PBS freak.

A commercial for the disabled comes on the TV. It is insipidly banal. While the screen depicts a man in a wheelchair climbing aboard a dump truck, the narrator slowly (as if we have some sort of audio visual impairment or are suddenly the age of two) says, "This...(wait a beat)is a dump.... truck. Do you... see a dump.........truck?" I am already laughing as is H. When the commercial is over after depicting that the disabled can drive a dump.....truck I am almost on the floor with laughter. The commercial is incredibly rude to me. So what we all need to process the information that the disabled can work 100% effectively even in dump..... trucks slowly?!

My Father pipes up, "Hey! Remember Mr. So and So?" No. "Well, he used to drive a dump truck and he was disabled." My mother chimes in from another room. "Oh yeah he did, he did own a dump truck." This conversation goes on with the words dump...truck being used over and over again. H and I are by now sadly hysterical and talking about the Yak conversation of last Christmas. The word yak is screamed repeatedly through tears of laughter while my parents look at us sternly as if we are somehow making fun of the disabled and them in the same sentence. This just makes us laugh harder.

I'm hear all week people and I don't know how much longer I can hold out against the bowls of Andies Mints and Oreo cookies, brie, and blasted cheddar goldfish that are stocked in my parents pantry...

Monday, August 27, 2007

Duggar Dreams

For some reason that I still cannot understand I had a dream about the Duggar family. And here's where it gets weird. I believe I solely dreamed about them for marketing purposes. That's right. They are an excellent little marketing team those Duggars. TV shows, websites, financial seminars, radio shows and more. They can afford their family because they are great little marketers.

A few weeks ago I read a post (and I'm sorry but I can't remember in all my mindless blog reading who it was by) that a post merely mentioning the Duggars garnered numerous hits. Hm... A mere mention dragged hapless people to her site? Really. The the dream. In it Michelle Duggar was really happy showing me around her home with new baby Jennifer. JimBob was no where to be found and the house was absent of any other children. Strange. Makes no sense and the weirdest part is that this dream was actually more like a commercial for what they would be doing next. Another show incidentally. Michelle had a bit of advice for me too- "Saying there are too many children is like saying there are too many flowers." What if you're allergic? That was my reply back.

So there you have it. Duggar Dreams. Makes no sense but maybe it was a marketing tip from dreamland.


*Check out the fun, tasty, and always new REVIEWS over at Mummy's Product Reviews!

Friday, August 24, 2007

Jokers, Cake Stains and the Brown Vulva (Ahem..'84 Volvo 240DL)

To My Dear Sweet 240DL,

You were never the cool car. You were solid. You could literally roll with the punches. Your jimmied cassette radio provided many hours of excellent tunes. You filled the four door car with numerous tracks of the Pet Shop Boys, Madonna, some Lenny Kravitz, and a little too much of the Reality Bites soundtrack.

I loved your convenient shelf right under the radio. You let my pal Joker ride along each day. His wild green plastic hair blowing in your A/C induced breeze. The crazy out of his mind smile bringing as much cheer to you as his purple pants suit did to me. You let me plaster you with Joker pictures and stickers. Yet you, precious, reliable brown Volvo, remained the Vulva (eloquently dubbed so by E) to me.

You never minded that I piled in numerous friends to press their butts and faces into your backseat and windows. When E and I had the chocolate cake fight all over your interior you took it in stride. I lovingly cleaned your upholstery the very next day. I washed you weekly for a while. I took you to school so you could get an American edumacation vs. your Swedish one. I trustingly let you protect me in the "hood" of Providence and along Federal Hill on late nights with friends.

College bound you tagged along driving all points South for what seemed like decades. Only acting up once so that a man named Cooter (for reals y'all) could come to the rescue. I still think you set that one up. With a bit of protest you traveled closer to the Mason Dixon line and helped me finish up my college years. Then dear friend you took a turn for the worse. Conking out on me in parking lots and at intersections. You made me do the Chinese fire drill too often to replace your spark plugs at lights at midnight. That was not cool Vulva. Not cool at all. I kicked your tires for that one.

Unceremoniously and without a tear I gave you up to the Towing Man on a random Tuesday. Bye Bye Brown Vulva. Good riddance. Adios! So long Turkey. I now hate you and you've been replaced. It was not the best of break ups by a long shot. I was less than subtle with my disregard for your disloyal behavior at the end. I might have even yelled at you as you were towed away, the disgust in my eyes, "You've been replaced!" "She's shiny, new, and has power locks!" She was everything you were not.

Months later I saw you. It was late. You were at a 7-11 on Rhode Island Avenue in DC. My sorority stickers still in your back window. I pressed my face to the taxi cab glass and yelled, "My first car! The Vulva!" I think the driver thought he had a case of the crazies in his car. I'm glad you got a third life.


This Open Letter to my first car, the Brown Vulva, was part of Blog Blast Friday! Head on over to PBN for some great prizes, we're talking car stuff and purses people! Ask Patty too if you've got a car question!

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Is it Safe?

Seems that pesky little mole of mine didn't like staying put. It had dreams and aspirations of traveling farther and heading to climates "deeper" and "sideways". So after some fun cutting because who doesn't like being sliced with a nice razor blade at 9 a.m.? Two little deposits were made in a specimen jar- lovely little tendrilly pieces with some slightly odd color to the top part. Gross, sick, and yet fascinating to meet my little nemesis all at the same time. Bye bye mole remnants! Have fun at the lab!

A few more stitches later they think they got it all and I await my lab results. It also seems that we got it before it decided that deeper and sideways were fun places to visit but that it wanted more. More disturbing was the out and out whistling done by the doctor (Is it Safe?!) as he came at me with the dripping needle to numb me up. Creepy much? Yes!

Now I just itch like a bitch from the bandage which according to Dr. HummyMcChuckler I'm allergic to. Excellent. Problem is, is that even with the bandage off the allergy continues for a while. So I'm just continuously scratching my boob looking like a weirdo. I actually saw some woman stare at me and give me a "Control yourself!" face in the parking lot the other day. I can't help it!

So that is the State of the Mole people and from now on I will still be wearing a two piece but you can bet your ass I will be wearing more than SPF 15.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Two Things

There are two things in the food world that get me really burned up. Well, three if you count Rachel Ray.

1. Fourth Meal- Damn you Taco Bell ad and marketing executives for thinking up this disgusting ploy for more sales. Fourth Meal?! Love the SKINNY guy on the commercial smirking at his cleverness. That's right buddy- keep eating that fourth meal and the next thing you know you'll begging soda throwing Subway over there to have you as their next Jared. Fourth Meal is all that is wrong with the food culture in this country. As if obesity and all the related diseases need another push. I am so thoroughly disgusted each time I hear or see a Taco Bell commercial with this ad I want to scream. Scream and start acting like a complete nut job at some random Taco Bell kicking people out of the place in droves with my craziness. Let's just all shove more preservatives, fat, and high fructose corn syrup into our ever slackening bodies.

2. America Runs on Dunkin- Dear God in heaven no. Really? While, yes, I am way more of a SBUX girl, because I actually like the taste of coffee and not all that sugar and cream thrown into some watered down "coffee", it's just the whole premise that we are these little drones running through life like hamsters on a wheel/Rachel Ray never stopping, only going, working, and running to the next thing. Never noticing that life is in the now. Am I reading too much into this clever little ad? When I hear John Goodman's voice narrating these commercials, I smirk. Great spokesperson. Comforting voice, teddy bear like man, telling us to just head on over and get more donuts, sausage-bagel-egg-cheese-bacon towers to cram into our gaping hole. Hey! Maybe we can throw in a heavy whipped frappaccuino ice cream concoction and eat it all before we even squeal out of the drive-thru!

Yup. I climbed up on that precarious little box today to rant and rave about the food industry. Can't help it. I get so mad sometimes that we just go nuts covering ourselves in a sea of anti-bacterial sprays and gels and then we dump all manner of preservatives and chemicals into our bodies. I watched bologna being made the other day on Unwrapped and I still can't get the "beef puree" out of my mind.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

I Still Need My Mommy

Here I am 31, with a toddler, a mortgage and two cars. No garage. There's even a dog and three bedrooms with actual furniture in them and flower beds. Pretty grown up huh? Heh.

Then the mole happened. The mole with 'suspect' margins. There will be further removal on Wednesday. A nice chunk I've been told. Excellent. There's nothing I like more than having my breast sliced open first thing in the morning. I mean come on! You have your morning coffee, get in the car, and a little while later some humming, chuckling MD is using terms like cutterage and you think, "Wow. I didn't even get flowers or dinner first."

Then your husband has to go away to another state for the day and you scheduled a party with invitations and everything for the very next day. Too late to cancel and bags of products to lug and too much need for too many sitters that you can't afford. All I can say is this, "I want my Mommy!"

So she's arriving today, because frequent flyer miles ROCK. $5 for a flight cannot be beat and she'll be here to take care of T.D. and me for a few days while I moan about my stitched boob and try not to wait too hard for the biopsy results.

Despite a powder room, rec room, and fully stocked fridge, silk draperies, and running a business, sometimes I still need my Mommy.

Oh and did I mention that when I found out that little cancer cells were hanging out in my body I had to literally fight the urge to just claw at my chest and rip them out myself?

Monday, August 20, 2007

Precious Moments

We see here a species of toddler called cryingfornoreasonocundus. While we often wish it were a rare form of the toddler realm it appears more often than we adults would like.







The Finale!



Notice the wild hair and swollen lips customary for these creatures after a wild crying jag.

Ah a night in our house. When a toddler can suddenly combust. Why? We are still trying to figure that one out.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Eight Random Things

It's Friday and here are eight random things you may not know about me. Why eight? Because eight is the new ten.

1. When my husband drives I grip the sides of the car. I make the "sseeekkkkhhh eek" noise all the time from the passenger seat. It drives him nuts. It drives me nuts! I grew up hearing my Mom do it and it drove me batty. Now I'm just like her....

2. When I was 12 my idol was Barbara Bush. I had a veritable photo collage of her on my bedroom wall. George Bush, Dan Quayle, and Ronald Reagan adorned my locker. Dork much? I even packed their pics away in my cheer camp suitcase. Do I vote elephant today? Guess.

3. I will not allow a box of tissues in my car. Fact: The corner of a tissue box in the back window once killed a person. At least that is what my drivers ed instructor told us. Now I'm a paranoid non-tissue box allowing freak.

4. Apple juice and popcorn remind me of Saturday nights watching the Muppets. It was my weekend treat as a kid.

5. I like biting people's fingers. Only those I love. I'm not a total freak.
It gives me a great feeling of satisfaction to feel the squish of flesh and then bone.

6. I rarely read books by male authors. Though I've read everything by John Jakes. What can I say I'm a sucker for a sappy historical novel.

7. I cannot stand when people pull lint off sweaters. It makes my teeth tickle and I have to dig my nails into my palms.

8. I am Edward Gorey junkie. Feel free to send gifts.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Just Like Dooce! Only in the not so fun 'Ed Revisited' Way

Some of you may recall my ramblings a few weeks ago about a suspicious mole. I had it removed last week. A simple little ten minute procedure where I was in awe of the sickening yet fascinating ways in which my skin could be numbed, burned, cut, and pulled all in such a short span of time. Fun, yet sick, in a fun yet sick kind of way. So surprisingly quick that I took advantage of the sitter and shopped a bit and then headed home.

Ha! Fools who joyously shop and use up free baby sitter time unwisely pay in the end. Or at least that is what my addled, tired, and ever circling brain spent much of the night thinking about. That and having my chest cracked open. Basically my doctor called yesterday. A kind little man who is prone to humming as he heats up lasers and threads needles. Not in a comforting way either. The mole is not good.

"So just when you come in like you would have to have your stitches removed next week, we'll just remove more skin that was near the mole and under it. The lab wants more samples. The outer areas of the mole are suspect."


Suspect of what? Grand larceny? Did they shoplift a pack of gum from the local Safeway? He didn't say. He didn't use the c-word either. Nor were the terms squamous, Basel, or melanoma thrown around. Though who wants to throw those words around carelessly anyway? Just more cutting, more stitches. More tests. Excellent. That's making my Jamaica trip sound a whole lot less enticing and more like me spending the week in a large hooded caftan with my face wrapped in cotton as I sip frosty drinks through a straw. Going to a cold clime is sounding more enticing.

Anger, sadness and fear have all plagued me since that phone call. I baked a batch of brownies. I ate a lot of the batter and then drank a beer. I pretty much kicked the 'Nine' challenge to the curb for the day. I went online and looked up some of the terms he used which did no good at all after seeing the wounds. Now my vanity is also angry, sad, and fearful. My left breast will be perfectly marred instead of perfect. I was proud of those puppies. I even liked that stupid, evil mole. It was then that I revisited Dooce. I found her writings and trials dealing with Ed, her sick little bastard of a mole, and found some comfort, except when I looked at the photos of Ed's demise. Damn! This is going to suck.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Stupid Pills- Me took some

It was just one of those days. The kind of day where no amount of caffeine will wake you up and bring you out of that fog inside your brain. You move slower and lose all motivation for the gym. Words elude you and you can't seem to hold a conversation for long without muddling it up. Either that or it's simple thoughts come to life- "Me hungry, eat now." Suddenly you and your toddler really do speak the same language!

I must have taken stupid pills yesterday because I did the following things throughout the day.

- Fell down while putting on underwear. One leg at a time girlie! One leg!

- Put eyeshadow on where concealer should be. That's right brown eyeshadow under my eyes. Used the actual eyeshadow brush too.

- Added bizarre purple shadow onto top lids after taking it away from T.D. I then looked like I had been in one hell of a fight. Or perhaps the local high school drama department was practicing on my face for the new fall season.

- Ignored the sound of many tiny pieces falling to the floor in the kitchen as I worked. Found out later when I got off my butt that it was T.D. pouring copious amounts of dog food into Lex's dish/all over the floor. Actually this is just more laziness than stupid pills at work.


There were other moments throughout the day like forgetting to clean T.D.'s sauced stained hands before letting her out of her chair. Eating cottage cheese on the floor with her and Lex. Always up for a mess aren't I? I just couldn't wait for the day to be done and I already need a vacation. Didn't I just have one?!

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Bilingual Baby

An email from my mother last week-

Dear Vicky,

I have just found a very nice miniature picnic table in an Adirondack style in the L.L Bean catalogue. I have spoken with your father and we would like to purchase one for our house for T.D. to use when she visits and one for your house as well. Take a look at it and let me know what you think. It comes in some lovely colors.

Love,

Mom



Hmmmm.... a tiny picnic table for our tiny townhouse. Eeehh.... I emailed H to discuss the matter. "Be firm but tell them no in a nice way.", he instructed. Well yeah! Aren't I always nice? Especially to my mother? Really. I just kept thinking of the fact that it was one more giant toy/thing in our house but now outside and how it would rarely get used at this point except as a climbing device.

Email from me to my mother regarding aforementioned tiny munchkin only picnic table.

Mom,

Thank you for thinking of us and T.D., but we just don't need or have the room for a little picnic table. If you however want to spend that type of money, which is seems you do (ballsy huh?), on something for T.D. why not purchase some books, DVDs and CD's for her in French. I'm reading this fascinating book called the Bilingual Edge and we have decided to try and teach her French. Amazon has a great selection!

Love,
Vicky


This week we are getting three separate shipments from Amazon containing various children's books, CD's and DVD's in French (from my mother). C'est Bon! I'll be using them to help me brush up on the language as well!

Parent Bloggers Network

A review of the Bilingual Edge and more is up on my review site. Find it here.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Giveaway Monday's

New reviews up on Mummy's Product Reviews! I'm giving stuff away so check it out!!!

Oh yeah and if you haven't heard of her already, check out Jen Lancaster's new website. this post is still making me laugh.

I think of Leonardo DiCaprio Everyday

Yes. It's true. I think of Mr. '11th Hour' daily. It's not like I'm some crazy stalker person. I'm not. Sure he's nice enough looking, but really it's not like that. It's simply this.

Back in 2005 I saw DiCaprio on Oprah (probably one of the last time's I actually sat and watched that show) and he was talking about living green. He explained that it's not a life over hauling thing. It doesn't have to be expensive or complicated. There are a million and one ways to go about your daily life living greener that actually do make an impact. The way we live has to change and it can be changed. I was riveted. I am all for bettering the planet but it does seem rather confusing sometimes doesn't it? Organic or not? Local vs. convenience of the grocery store. Hybrid car price vs. lower priced more polluting vehicle?

So I listened to Leo and decided from here on out I'm changing things. It was slow going at first. I unplug all the items in our house that don't need to run all day like the coffeemaker, radios, cell phone chargers, hair dryers, the list goes on. Even lamps. If it's not on it shouldn't be sucking energy. We changed out the light bulbs and have bought energy efficient appliances as the old ones died out. We stopped using plastic bags and bought the stores cloth ones. And you know what? It wasn't all in a day. It was over time. Each step I made had me feeling better and wanting to do more. Before I knew it we were shopping locally when possible. Buying earth/people friendly cleaners, using less water, less paper, eating less meat (very energy inefficient to produce it) and are driving less. If it's nice out I'd rather walk than spend the gas to go to the gym.

I even grow herbs now. Freaky isn't it? The change has been on-going and through it I'm more aware of my daily actions in life and how I treat myself and others. I'm reluctant to call myself some granola munching-tree hugging-do gooder who poo poos everyone else. That is NOT what I'm saying. I'm only re-emphasizing the idea that one small step, one little action has an impact. If we all pick a few things to help preserve this planet it will benefit us in so many more ways than we can imagine.

So each time I unplug my coffeemaker I think of Leo and those first few galvanizing thoughts he put in my head.

Some great sites for making those small changes-

Low Impact Living
Pristine Planet
target="_blank">Izzy Mom's Thoughts on Things and some Good Links
No Impact Man- One Man's Quest

And they say celebrity's can't endorse a cause. Heh.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

The Nine- An Update

Augh. So I was feeling pretty good. I had lost 4.5 lbs in just two weeks. I was working out and eating healthy. Lots o grilled veggies and Spirutein shakes. Then I had Girls Night and had too much wine.

Wine with brownies. And Cheese Nips. Which I NEVER eat. Oh and some M&M's. Light and dark chocolate. Right, then there was that sugar cookie thrown in too. Next day hung over slightly with my knees bothering me again I skipped the gym. Did my weigh in this morning and somehow between yesterday and today I gained three pounds.

To say I'm angry would be a mild way of putting it. Angry. Annoyed. Frustrated and discouraged. I was feeling so good. I don't like to be myself up about that after all I do have one free day. ONE. That is what happens? Yeesh.

So it's back to all veggies all the time. Water galore. Spirutein is my new best friend. Somehow in between being concious and with my family and cleaning up a rehab I have to make it to the gym.

This sort of sucks. The Nine my a**

Friday, August 10, 2007

A Family that Plays Together, Stays Together

Quality Family Time. "What's that?", I sometimes wonder to myself, when between H and I we juggle a business, my writing, and his full-time 9-5 job. Time can get pretty scarce. We have to count on the little moments. The ones that are short but sweet.

Some of my favorite times are meal times. Breakfast or dinner we sit down and talk about our day. T.D. being 18 mos. things can get pretty comical. Flying food, cascading food, and hilarious tantrums can be the norm. Add the dog in and it's a regular party or a pilot for a sitcom. We do a lot of dancing in our house as well, especially in the kitchen. The radio is always on or the iPod is piping music through the house and we all stop to dance in between unloading the dishwasher or cleaning up the kitchen. It's a blast, funny, and makes us parents destress while making T.D. feel like she can do something with us.

So while we don't often have a ton of time together we make it count when we do. We spend short amounts of time at the pool, we take evening walks as a family, and always try to sit down together and recap our day as we shovel food into our pieholes. What do you do with your family?

It's Blog Blast Friday so head on over to PBN and check out the incredibly fun prizes being given away just for posting what you like to do as a family. A Wii and EA's new game Boogie! What better family time can you have? Go on, post! You know you want to!



This post is brought to you in conjunction with Parent Bloggers Network & EA's Wii-Boogie, a family gaming experience. Shake it. Sing it. Create it.

Thursday, August 09, 2007

So what are WE doing?

Yesterday's post about the myth vs. the reality brought up some interesting questions from myself and from some readers. American women have it better than we think, but our work is far from over. The system is old, it's not working, and we need to tweak it and in some cases give it a massive overhaul.

So what is an already busy working and not working woman/mother to do? Well, I don't have all the answers but I do feel pretty strongly about the fact that years ago our mothers really broke through the proverbial glass ceiling and are the ones who started things like flex time, shared work schedules, daycare centers in the office and such. I look at that and I think, "well, what have I done?" I've just taken as much as I could from the whole thing and haven't offered anything new. That my friend is not right and part of the problem in itself.

I joined MomsRising for one. If you haven't heard of it, it is a great grassroots campaign focusing on all the important issues of the day for families and women, whether you have kids or not. Through it some great discussions have started as well as local campaigns where you can see work being done on a small and large scale. I'm talking legistlative action here people. Check this organization out. It's everywhere! I for one always feel slightly more accomplished after completing even the smallest task with them.

Start a discussion at work and join forces with the other women and men to establish whatever it is you feel is lacking in your office. Have a plan first and foremost. Discussion is where action begins. Once you have a plan you can go to the next level and discuss it with them. Don't back down and get discouraged if it doesn't happen right away. Be persistent. Change is inevitable so why not bring about a good one, like flex time for all workers.

We, women, we already know we are a powerful group. A force to be reckoned with. We shouldn't listen to those articles that keep cranking out on how we just "vote the way our husbands" do and start demanding (again) that we have needs in the workforce and in society that ARE NOT being met. Childcare, Paid maternity leave, flex time, sharing of work schedules, the list goes on and on. What is in place is a step, a step to something better. We haven't reached the peak of what we can do.

I'll get off my soap box now and let you know that in honor of family and fun there will be a BLOG BLAST tomorrow with an incredibly fun giveaway. Think Wiiii....

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Not a Myth, and Not Quite a Reality Yet

Is the grass really greener on the other side of the pond?

I wish that in the mires of my office, in the hours I spent toiling at my desk in corporate America I had come across this article. It would have given me a bit more perspective. A whole look at how we American’s cannot use the pat answer (and yes, I’m guilty of it too) that the Europeans have it all figured out. They don’t either. So Ms. American ladies, while you are perhaps feeling a bit guilty about being at work or that maybe your company is a tad unfair consider this article and know that in some ways American women do have it better.

“Only one in five Europeans works some sort of flexible schedule, as compared with almost 30 percent in the United States. And because European companies have traditionally invested less in technology than their American counterparts, the notion of such accepted U.S. practices as "remote work" are less common.”


Flex time if used properly and actually adhered to by a company is one of the best things to come out of the American workforce since banishing child labor. Allowing people to work remotely is another one. The problem that Americans run into is the abuse of and misuse of these two elements. Either an employee abuses flex time so much it’s taken away or a manager doesn’t allow it. In my most recent place of work my manager had differing views from the other two managers on how to work flex time. It was a constant source of confusion for the employees. Follow their direct manager 100% and they ran into trouble with the overall department manager. Look over your cube and the person with yet a different manager had an entirely separate set of rules. That is NOW WAY to run a department. It causes dissatisfaction, envy and dissent among co-workers. Hardly the “one” quality they were looking for and prophesying.

The same goes for remote working/telecommuting. If it isn’t allowed on a general basis how can you expect employees to work from home on a weekend or late at night? That is still a bone of bitter contention from me. If one manager deems it acceptable and another doesn’t who do you listen to? The problem in many American companies is that these great assets are left to the discretion of each individual manager causing further derision amongst the employees overall. Anger and bitterness is rife within these environments simply because management is unable to look past their own personal ideas and see how things could work to their advantage and for the greater good of the company.

“Alexandra Jones, associate director of the Work Foundation in Britain states, "When bosses make decisions about who is doing a good job based on who spends the most time at their desks, then women are inevitably disadvantaged." Research shows that productivity is independent of time spent in the office.

Off my soap box now and back on track let’s discuss maternity leave and child care. I still believe despite this article that America in behind in this practice as well. The system is rife with problems that cannot be solved with one easy answer. Child care needs to have fewer stigmas attached to it and be more affordable and easily accessible overall. The quality of it and pay for its workers should also be universally equal. It’s tragic and abysmal what daycare workers are paid and here they are responsible for America’s future on a daily basis. Establish a better child care structure and we have a better future. While a government run system may sound scary it’s worked decidedly well for the Europeans.

Maternity leave MUST be paid. There is no question about that. A woman shouldn’t have to leave her job or feel that simply because she is a woman she is at a disadvantage. We’re miraculously made to carry children and birth them. Men are at a loss there. We shouldn’t be made to feel bad about that or have to hide the fact that we’re married and might have kids. I am guilty of that one too. I swore I would not be different just because I had a child in fear that I would be respected less in the workforce. Change is inevitable I soon realized. Changing how I dealt with work or how work dealt with me was not. Employers need to pay for maternity leave on both sides, for both parents if needed. They are after all in it together usually aren’t they? Taking time off to care for a young life should not be viewed as “a vacation”.

So while Europe struggles with getting women into the higher echelons of the workforce displaying to Americans that things are not always as rosy as we would like to think, it still illustrates that we as a country need to grasp what is not working for us as well. Maybe we need to go all bi-partisan on it and learn from each other. Paid leave, less stigma, universal child care, equal pay, less cynicism and more reality that neither system works, and we ALL need to find a better solution. Until then we’ll continue to have dissent and women will continue to fall behind on both sides of the globe cracking under the pressures of an archaic structure and our hour long commutes.

**Other interesting Mom/Work articles here and here.




Totally other note- NEW REVIEWS UP at Mummy's Product Reviews tasty treats, stationary and more!

Monday, August 06, 2007

Hey! Look at that Crazy Lady!

Fodder for one of those hidden camera shows? That would have been me yesterday. The morning started off normal enough and then T.D. turned cranky and started pulling on the same ear over and over again. Suddenly the easy morning of writing, gym time, and meeting with H to work out business stuff became much more chaotic.

8:37 a.m.- "Hi, it's me! Listen could you give me a call back? T.D. has been pulling on her ear all morning and she has a 12:20 doctor appt. now. I can't meet with you at the granite place. Call me!"

8:43 a.m.- H calls back- I say, "Right. Ok, I understand, but that means we would have to meet in about a half hour and I'm not even showered... and I really need to be. (inwardly totaling drive and shower time, eliminating the gym from the day completely now, work time slowly eluding me.) Ok, so I'll see you between 10-10:30."

8:46 a.m.- Blink a few times. Grumble about missing gym. Resolve to run later when H comes home. Nix idea of walking in the afternoon as it will still be beyond sweaty balls hot outside. Run downstairs to quickly work up a mailing label to mail out baby gift. Love Click n Ship! (no they did not pay me to say that) Run back upstairs calling T.D. to get a move on! Thank God she's already dressed! I hastily begin throwing the diaper bag together- bib, diapers/wipes, food, drinks, all important blanket. Check! I weave around the kitchen dodging the dog and T.D. who is now wailing for her packed blanket. Or not. Can't figure this kid out some days!

9:12 a.m.- Run up the stairs two at a time calling to T.D. to follow. Time to shower! At warp speed I manage to start the shower, pluck a few stray eyebrows, run up and down the loft stairs (where our bathroom is) to get underwear, T.D., and various other random objects. I move around the bathroom like a whirling dervish.

9:17 a.m.- Shower like lightening. Can't hear kid. Don't even do pit check. No time!

9:18 a.m.- Drying off and I hear screaming. I call to T.D. My wet hair dripping everywhere as I stumble and dry off while simultaneously dashing down the steps. The dog is making a play for T.D.'s precious graham cracker. She is resisting but it's futile. My naked self drags T.D. into the bedroom. I run back upstairs.

9:20 a.m.-Rip a comb through my sopping wet hair and decide to forgo lotion as it will save time. Hastily try to untangle the "sides" of my underwear as they are a tangled mess while yelling at T.D. down below the loft to stop force feeding the graham cracker to Lex. Lex flees to her crate. T.D. toddles to nightstand to impose mass destruction on my chap sticks and library books. Damn g-strings are like a tangled necklace chain! I nearly fall over in my attempt to put on my Capri's.

9:21 a.m.- Wonder about need for make up. Slap on lip gloss and some mascara. Isn't that what super models always claim is "the only thing" they wear? Scarily blow dry just my bangs so my quick pony tail (curse that being a Mom hair do) won't look so desperate.

9:22 a.m.- Look at chipped black nail polish. Really only works if sleek and shiny. Could I be mistaken for throwback Goth kid now Mom? Maybe it will start a new trend- Suburban Goth Moms! We'll kick stroller impeding a** in our Doc Martens at the local mall (now back in!).

9:23 a.m.- Nearly tumble down the stairs as I grab my wedding ring and push in earrings. My hair is wild. A veritable nest. T.D. looks afraid of her cyclone Mommy. I somehow manage to tie a scarf around my waist making a jaunty belt and grab T.D.

9:27 a.m.- Throw open the front door, blasted with heat and humidity and chuck the bags in the car. I nearly chuck T.D. in with them in my haste. Realizing she's not a clever looking diaper bag I buckle her into her car seat.

9:30 a.m.- We are off! Record time today I must say. My heart is STILL racing.


I wish I could have caught it all on film and seen the wild look in my eyes. I'm sure the footage of me spraying myself in the eye with toner was fantastic.

The trip to the granite place was a loss. No one spoke English and everything we wanted or they thought we wanted was out of stock. Lunch was basically me cramming black beans and tomatoes down my gullet. I chomped more celery sticks and almonds in the car as I drove as fast as I could with a screaming with indignation T.D. to her doctor's appointment (now no longer pulling her ear I must add). We got there exactly two minutes before her scheduled time.

Guess what? All for naught. No ear infection. Is good. Is really good. Just you know... a total waste of a co-pay. I take comfort in the fact that while waiting she watched an 80's run of 'Reading Rainbow' that I swear I remember from when I was a kid. She learned about whales and now says, 'way' each time she sees one.

On the lookout

This is just a wide open call for any New York Mom/Parent bloggers out there. Do you know one or ARE you in fact one? If you want to get in on something VERY cool and with fun incentives contact me. I can't say anything else beyond that but I'm working with a great group and we would love the help of hip NYC mommy/parent bloggers.

Email me for further information at veamason at gmail dot com.

Cheers!

A Crimp in My Master Plan

Ok so my real master plan would be more Pinky and Brain-ish, but since I don't have the time what with deadlines, a wildly climbing toddler and a house flipping business, let's just say 'the Nine' is my oeuvre, at least for the month of August. That's right it runs the whole month. I need the leeway.

Especially with these crimps.

1. The new daycare schedule at the gym. As if it weren't hard for Moms to get out the door on time each day and have the motivation amidst the daily chaos to go to the gym, they go and change the schedule eliminating most evening daycare hours and all of Wednesday. For the first time in three years I am considering switching gyms. The hours are now random and confusing. They follow no discernible flow or even the class schedule. The gym seems to solely cater to women of the 50 and over crowd despite a throng of young mothers all breathlessly charging in the doors daily overloading the daycare rooms. It makes me hissing mad.

2. A constantly changing schedule. I like to have some routine in our days. T.D. and I both thrive on it. When new errands pop up daily it totally throws off not just the day but the week and the first thing to be eliminated is my workout, then it's my actual work, which quite frankly pisses me off.

3. The mole. On Wednesday I'll be having a rather suspicious mole removed and it will require stitches. I loathe those little buggers. Looking at them totally creeps me out. The addition of them to my bra line region will hopefully only impede an upper body workout. That could be more of a plus than a crimp though as I've now dubbed myself 'thunder thighs' after hitting the pool yesterday.


There are more of you who have joined in on 'the Nine' challenge and that's great! I think all the mutual support can only lead to success. I am doing weekly weigh ins. So far- 3.5 lbs shed. I'm ecstatic! It's those last 5.5 that will make the difference!

Friday, August 03, 2007

Here's the Thing

It was a not so hot morning here in our household. Day two of 'the Nine' challenge is going fine. Swimmingly well. Easy peasey I thought as I went to the gym. I did my time on the elliptical and did some lower body toning and was ready to hit the door when I realized, "oh yeah... I need to pick up the business mail."

I pull the P.O. box key out of my purse as I collected T.D. from the daycare. I set the key down on a kiddie table to pick her up and we leave. I trot on over to the mailbox place next door only to find I'm sans key. Yup. I left it in the daycare at the gym. I collect my mail anyway and head back over. Maybe a three minute interlude. I trudge back to the playroom, T.D. in arms. I tell the caretakers about the key. I look at the little table now populated with tiny tots coloring. No key. I search the bathroom. No key. I quickly scan the room's floor. Nada. I explain the situation for the third time to the nice playroom ladies. They look through toys. No freakin' key!

It's at this point that I begin suspiciously eyeing the tiny tots. I ask the ones coloring first, "Have you seen a little key? Just one key? It was on this table." The abnormally quiet little sages effectively tell me "No. No key here." There's a pack of four to five year old's across the room. Surely one of them has my key! I want to yell out, "Ok kids! Listen up! There's a key missing and I want all of you to empty your pockets. I'm going to frisk you now." There's a baby in a carrier. Maybe he has swiped the key? I leave the playroom telling them I'm going to the front desk to let them know.

I lug T.D. to the desk and leave my name and number as I pilfer through the key basket. Maybe I dropped it in there? I search outside the gym. Zip. No key. As I approach my car I realize that I'm no longer just parked next to the curb but also wedged into my spot by some sedan. A sedan, with the bumper sticker- "I like to spoon and fork", is so inexplicably close to me I couldn't get into my door even if I was Nicole Ritchie thin. Exasperated I wrench open the other side door and shove T.D. into her strap-laden car seat. I'm sweating only a tad bit less than I was on the elliptical machine. I climb over the passenger seat and into the driver's side managing to stab myself in the left buttock with my water bottle sitting in a cup holder. That'll leave a mark. Rubbing my tush I sigh... a lost key that I'll have to pay to replace because the spare was lost months ago.

I dump the contents of my purse on the seat next to me. I search through diapers, wipes, lip glosses to numerous to name, tiny kid barrettes, tissues- floral at least and unused thank God, gum, pens, writing notebook, and curse the suddenly huge bag. No key though. I want to scream. Ok so I do scream, but only for a minute.

Pre-T.D. this type of stuff just didn't happen to me. I was so together. Now I'm always sweating and grunting, feeling like I'm running a marathon that has no clear route. Sitting on my ass in an office was nothing but banal and annoying compared to life today where I could recreate a box of cheerios just with the contents of my car. At least my nails are always done.

The Nine- My Rules

So some of you have expressed interest in joining me in losing 'the nine'. Great! Glad to have accomplices and people to help buoy me when I want to sink my teeth into a Twinkie or something. They'll be my Nine Sponsors that I can call or something like that.

MY RULES
(feel free to make up suitable ones for you)

Excercise AT LEAST thirty minutes four times a week. (It worked well in the 5-Day Challenge)

One Cheat Day- preferably a weekend- 5 Factor Diet and Diet for Life allows it so I will too.

Incorporate weights and cardio during workout. Hopefully that will eliminate the slow workouts on treadmills.

One alcoholic drink a week. No more guzzling Chardonnay in manner of Bridget Jones.

Overall MORE water, LESS carbs, MORE Veggies.

Really it's about being less Homer and more Marge.

I'll keep you posted weekly on my losses or gains (oh the horror!) and tally it up at the end of the month.

That's the kicker. H and I might be venturing back up to old NE for one last summer jaunt on the coastline. I'll be swimming in clamcake grease for a week. YIKES!

Thursday, August 02, 2007

The Nine- A true life challenge

Nine pounds. Nine. (Is anyone else hearing Mr. Rooney's voice besides me?)Possibly ten. In a matter of weeks I've managed to put on that amount of weight.

Aching knees

Real half and half not the fat free kind

A dose or fifteen of heavy cream

Whipped cream

Endless batches of brownies, scones, and cookies to review. I had no choice but to eat them. It's a hazard I now realize with this job.

Fried cheese, fries, chips, chicken, fried WHATEVER all delightfully crammed into my piehole. Wild abandon was definitely there.

Ice cream

A metric ton of cheese

Stiff joints

Loss of flexibility

All add up to those 9-10 pounds. DO NOT email me saying I shouldn't berate myself. It is my own fault after all. Some people can gain that weight and be fine. My small frame does not allow that to be so. Especially after birthin' a baby. The jiggle factor is not to be believed. Those pictures of Britney Spear's cellulite ridden tushie only help just so much.

So it is here Internets that I will make a vow. I will lose those nine pounds plus one if I'm lucky (we all know after 30 it is harder than ever to lose an inch) and be more ready to take on the summer bathing suit just as it comes to a close. I'll track my progress for you all while I wait for this guy's people to work out the details of our product review. I will do it the right way too. Diet and exercise and not in the total extreme. Just enough extreme to break a sweat. Come August 30th I'll weigh in and we'll see how I do.

Anyone want to join me?

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Goodbye's

Some people say they don't "do" goodbye's. I have never been one to use that pat phrase. I do them alright I just don't show much emotion while it's happening. When H left for Iraq I didn't even cry. I just hugged him and we said, "OK, see you sometime..." and I went home. That's it. The fact that I lived on some weird plane of non-emotion for the entire time is a whole other post.

Some might say that is cold of me. How can I render so much emotion for tragic ship sinking's and events that have nothing to do with me, but yet I can mourn and grieve them like nobodies business? I don't really get it either, except to say it's just way too personal for me and must be done alone.

Tonight, I said goodbye to a friend that a year ago I didn't even know. Tears were shed by all the women on my block but me. It's not that I don't care or that I even care less. I don't really even cry at funerals. It's like a block. Then I go home to my empty house and just keel over. I can put it off a bit by sitting here writing this pathetic blog. Yet, here I sniffle and already miss my friend. I walked into my house saw a bowl of chocolates and thought, "Oh! I'll just go give these to her for her trip." It was too late, she was already driving away. I walked slowly in the humid night back to my house sighing heavily suddenly saddened by the whole night.

It will never be the same. She will no longer call me in the morning and ask, "How are you doin'?" in her Texas drawl and then I'll lug T.D. across the street for coffee and a morning walk. Her son is T.D.'s favorite playmate. I well up in tears when I think of how she will keep toddling to his front door asking for "Mahk". I already had to tell her twice today, "All done. Mark doesn't live there. All done." It's the only way T.D. sort of comprehends it. I will miss the easy way she had and how she made me feel like a better Mom and not less of one the way some women I've known have. I will miss the Texas Trash.

Sure there is email and phones, but there is something truly special about having a neighbor who you can rely on to not only watch your kids and set up play dates with, but one who actually becomes your friend and you tell your secrets to. It's rare and special and I can say from past experience incredibly hard to have to do twice in one year. I'm still not over the last defection from our 'hood (That still sucks and it's been almost a year). On our tiny street we're relatively close and watch out for each other. We actually borrow cups of sugar and eggs. You become so entrenched in just passing through each other's homes each day. You learn from other mothers and watch their kids grow. I love it and it sucks and hurts, I know I'm being eloquent again, when part of that leaves.

So there's my sap for the month and a deeper blog post than the last few, she totally called me out on that just before she said goodbye. What I'll miss the most from her, is not her stellar coffee or the play dates, but her honesty and ease. It's those things that make me cry and miss her more.

In a Walken Induced Coma



Am I the only one who finds this to be almost Bob Ross-like mesmerizing? I felt so calm and peaceful watching Walken cook. Can someone out there give this man a cooking show?!? Chicken and pears who would have thought?

What We're Not Going To Talk About


Are we going to talk about the delayed flight home yesterday? Nope.

The jerk who made snide comments to my MiL on the flight home and then proceeded to yell at the flights staff, captain, and random airport workers as we deboarded the plane? No.

How about the fact that we sat on the tarmac for an hour after sitting at the gate both in departure and deboarding? Sorry, no.

We'll also not be discussing overzealous diaper changing grandparents who succeed in going through a whole box of diapers and wipes in four days. Poor T.D. but we're not talking about that either.

Nor will we discuss the sheer exhaustion I now feel from only one day of traveling with a toddler even though I had help.

I will only say that I adored having a TV back in my room and the Sleuth channel on Direct TV rocks! There is never enough Simon & Simon, Quincy, and Buried Alive I &II. Having three grandparents under one roof is the new holy trinity and eating dessert everyday plus fried goodies like grilled cheese, bacon, clamcakes, eggs, french fries and potato chips is all fine and good but I fear a gunt might appear at any given moment. My Mom can still get me drunk with one drink and having DOUBLE STUFFED mint oreos at my beck and call is one of life's greatest pleasures.

I can safely say that my trip home was truly a vacation.



*Photo by Karen Cooke, East Beach, RI