Pumpkins Scream in the Dead of Night

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene....

October 31st. One of my favorite days of the year. I love Halloween for so many reasons. As a kid it was the candy and costumes. As I grew older it was the candy, costumes, and spookiness of it all. Today it's all that, a viewing of 'The Shining' and 'Shadow of a Vampire' along with some seriously silly singing of 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'. Stay clear of my house. I'm a horrible singer. I've had some good Halloweens full of pumpkin carving, the looting of four neighborhoods in one night, being out in the rain (OK not such a good one) and being a victim of the Bates Motel. Here are some Halloween memories I'm sharing because days like this make me feel all warm, fuzzy and well sharing-like so suck it up because it won't be back until maybe Thanksgiving.

COSTUMES PAST

1. A witch multiple times (never a sexy one)
2. A pink princess (I was 10 so leave me alone I was still playing with My Little Ponies)
3. Dracula's bride
4. A Dead Bride
5. A Dead Ballerina
6. A victim from the Bates Motel complete in hotel pajamas ripped to shreds with lots of blood. I spent hours on that costumes spraying it with fake blood on the side lawn of my parents house.
7. A Dead Flapper
8. A biker chick (I was in college. I owned a skull bandanna and a leather jacket it was easy.)
9. A 70's disco dancer (again, college and I was a pledge and it was dictated to me that this is what I would be. Not that I minded as I do love me a good disco.)



I know there's more because I tricked and treated until I graduated from high school (I was short!) but you get the idea. As a kid I liked the macabre. I enjoyed Edward Gorey and had a cute little Gorey coffin on my desk with bird bones inside. Sometimes chewing gum soemtimes bones. I read Poe and painted an urn full of Wolf bane on my closet wall. I had a thing for Vampires. When I was six I tried to wear my glow in the dark fangs to school but my parents nixed the idea. They let me wear them to bed though and I thoroughly enjoyed knowing that while I slept, arms crossed Mummy-style in my bed, my fangs glowed on in the night. I wanted to be Darth Vader and not Princess Leia. I would breathe into my glass at the dinner table hoping to be mistaken for the him. Some might say I was a bit darker than your average kid but my parents didn't let on. They let me hang out in graveyards to my hearts content and I thank them for that. Free to be you and me I suppose.



This year I'll just be handing out candy. I'll listen to my old soundtrack to the Nightmare Before Christmas and maybe Dracula too. I'll indulge in a little of 'The Shining' if I have my way and take my daughter out sporting her Darth Vader costume hoping to carry on a little bit of tradition. She's a sunny little soul but she did squeal out with glee when I took the costume out of its package which made me dare to dream that she might have a little bit the of the dark side in her yet.

Overheards

Our house last night-

H: AAAHHH!! Geez! A little warning will you?

V: What? After all this time you still haven't gotten used to this? Before you I had to do this myself you know. But with you it is now so, I don't know, quick and convienent.

H: We're still talking about you warming your freezing cold feet up on me right?





Two days later it still feels good. GO SOX!!!









CHECK OUT Flaming Tulle today. We're giving one bride a free projector rental for a photo montage to be used at her reception or wherever the need might be on her BIG DAY! Come have a look and pass it on to any of the soon-to-be married's you might know!

And I Was Worried About Princess Costumes

Silly me. Just last week I told my mother it was a-ok to buy T.D. costumes but just NO DISNEY PRINCESSES. I said yes to fairies and would actually rather her wear something off a clearance rack from a Halloween store. Bottle of Ketchup? Sure. Hershey Kiss? That is fine with me. Jasmine from Aladdin? Whoa there! Wait just a minute.

I have a rule in our house about toys like this. No princesses, no divas and no queens. I don't like commercialized bedding or clothing either. A Dora t-shirt. Not in this house. I highly discourage people buying this stuff for T.D. for many reasons. First, I think it looks cheap. Second, as if there isn't enough advertising thrown at kids. Why continually have it in my house? I'm getting off track here. I'm really worried about the whole Princess Mentality with T.D. I guess after reading this article I should be more worried about her overall wardrobe choosiness.

When I read this, "Ten-year-old Ashley Parks said she admires the Pussycat Doll look.
I like how it's sexy," she said." I about puked into my coffee. At ten I had no idea what sexy was. I just knew I wanted to have long flowing hair and I would wear a turtleneck on my head with the shirt flowing down my back to make my "hair" longer. The fact that people buy and companies make (because people buy them!) padded bras, pimpwear and thongs for the under 10 set is so disturbing to me. We worry so much about the safety of our neighborhoods and have websites tracking where pedophiles live yet we buy thongs and teeny tiny skirts and cleavage revealing tops for our six year-olds? Low riders for four year-olds? Doesn't anyone recall that a pimp is not something to aspire too?

I wore my first thong to my Sr. Prom because I knew that VPL is a fashion no-no. I wasn't trying to be sexy. That damned thing was uncomfortable. My white little 17 year old butt hadn't seen the sun since I was a toddler so who would deem that sexy? Besides I still wasn't into the whole looking sexy thing even then. I wanted to be beautiful in a classic Jackie O/Grace Kelly type of way. I wanted grace, elegance, a Chanel suit and big sunglasses. Guess I was a total tool who didn't know fashion according to these girls.

I really think the whole thing that bugs me about this tarted up toddler look is that it warps the young kids mind. Being sexy is a state of mind not just the clothes you wear. Having them dress like that so young puts so much emphasis on how a kid looks and not what they can do or be. It's incredibly sad to me. The parents are letting a company and a child dictate so much. There are other alternatives in kids wear out there. Not to mention the small fact that these items are tasteless and setting up a whole change of bad fashion no-no's in the years to come. A middle school class photo will look like the Saturday night holding pen at at police station full of low-class hookers.

Harsh? Maybe, but I think we need to be if kids are looking to Kimora Lee Simmons for fashion advice and parents are buying half shirts and low cut tops for five year-olds. What's next crotchless panties and fishnets in pre-school?


Mad and sick enough yet? I thought so. Here are more examples.

Newsweek is on target

Lingerie for kiddies

Gotta love A&F

Go Tanya!




Costume description:
Make any soldier with an attitude drop and give you twenty when you suit up as Major Flirt, the highest-ranking Drama Queen in the army! This classic girls costume comes with military green dress, vinyl studded belt, Major General's hat and matching glovettes--all you'll need to get them to stand at A-tten-tion!


Wow. There is just so much more too. Thanks to everyone who has been sending me links, photos and stories.

Crazy Already?

Halloween is a scant few days away. The pumpkins are on the front step waiting to be carved. The candy hidden from desirous eyes and grabbing hands. T.D.'s costume has been tried on and test driven. She is ready to become Lord Vader. In our house the dog is the princess. Princess Leia to be exact.

We are a month from Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and two months from Christmas. Yet somehow emails and phone calls have already begun popping up into my inbox and onto my voicemail regarding holiday menus and logistics. IT'S TOO EARLY! Isn't it? Am I being too nonchalant? I love the holidays don't get me wrong but the frenzy for Turkey day is bearing down and I'm already feeling the stress. Puff pastry? I'm in charge of puff pastry?! I HATE making puff pastry. I suck at it and it stresses me out causing me to either want to smoke, want to drink, or smoke and drink and ash into the cream puff holes rather than fill them with delicious cream. It is not a gift I possess.

I'm all for making pumpkin or leaf shaped sugar cookies right now (except there is that pesky baking embargo I've been put on). That's all well and good to me but I don't need to be getting excited about a giant floating Kermit yet. Though EEEE I do love me a good NBC sponsored parade. All this talk of Thanksgiving has inevitably led to Christmas. H has forbidden me to talk of gift buying with him in the room because as he shouts, "It's only OCTOBER!!!" Eek. Though he has mentioned that if anyone does ask this is what he would like... Nicely done H. Gifts have been purchased already. Stocking stuffers discussed. It is as if once the ball of holiday mania has started down its slippery slope there is no going back.

I'm determined to enjoy the fall festival this weekend and think only of pumpkins, leaves, ghosts and goblins. Not turkeys, which stuffing I prefer, puff pastry and sugar plum fairies. I will carve my pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns and eat Oktoberfest food all through this coming week never once pondering dressings or real vs. fake trees.

This vow in itself makes it almost ineffectual and I think how can it be that I've become crazy already? Don't even ask about New Year's.





If you are looking for a great gift idea, gift baskets
are the way to go. With a gift basket you can find gifts for anyone
because you can personalize a gift
basket. From wine
gift baskets to fruit
baskets, you can find must about any kind of gift basket
for anyone.

Three Stars for Spears

I admit it. I am fessing up right now. I actually legitimately like Britney's new song, Gimme More. I find it infectious. I find it hard to block out the Mtv Awards show debacle while hearing it but I still like the song. I want to run to it. I be-bop to it in my car excited when I find it on a station.

I'm not proud of it but I never said I was a connoisseur of great music. I list Disco and Funk as my two top fave genres. My iPod is engraved with the words, 'Don't Fake the Funk'. While Funk might garner awards Disco never will unless it's in cheesiness and the top most played wedding songs. It really should be of no surprise then that after 'Oops I Did it Again' I became a fan of Ms. Spears. Yet, somehow I'm shocked by this.

People magazine has given her new CD 'Blackout' three stars. Yes, three. Out of five not ten. While I haven't heard the whole thing I figured that with the mess that her life has become this would not be a stellar recording. Not even a mediocre one. The last few haven't been. And no, I haven't bought any of her actual albums. It's a secret iPod only type of thing. Still, I am surprised. Surprised and now anxious to hear the rest of the tracks. This little bad taste in music junkie is excited. At least I'm not a Justin Timberlake fan.

Help Katie, Help Yourself, Help the Future

I yelled in meetings. I swore at my boss and made incoherent rants during discussions at work.

I shoved someone into a cubicle wall.

Me. While not exactly mild-mannered this was not my usual demeanor.

I wanted to mow people down in parking lots for crossing intersections too slowly. I saw no reason why I couldn't. I am not joking. I thought it was perfectly logical to ram into someone, hit them, or even possibly maim them for life all to save me a mintue of my time.

I had inexplicable never ending amounts of rage.

I wanted to live in our storage space and never come out. I thought it would be a better world if no one found me. The fetal position was never so good.

Again. Me. Not normal behavior for myself. While I've never been a Susie Sunshine type my dark side does recede on most days. I felt like a great White shark trolling dark, murky waters always looking for something else to attack. I felt alienated and hostile.

I could barely brush my teeth some days. I cried while I dried my hair before work everyday because no one would hear me.

I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression (PPD). It was such a relief! I started taking the meds and went to weekly therapy sessions. I began to return to the world of more colors and less anger management. Then it swung wildly back the other way. I felt homicidal and was told I had been given too strong of a prescription. Great. My OBGYN and my therapist weren't talking to each other and I became confused. After four months of medication and therapy I took myself off cold turkey. Not the wisest thing but I knew in my heart I had passed the brink the first time and I might not make it back the second time if I didn't just stop taking the meds.

For me it worked. I consider myself lucky. For many women, including my own mother who spent years in a state of post-partum depression, they are not so lucky. In the late 1970's when it was my mothers turn at this grim affliction there was no one to talk to, the stigma was burning bright and health insurance sure as hell didn't pay for these types of "female maladies" that were all in your head. Ha. Those were some dark years my friends. For everyone involved.

I am extremely thankful and grateful to my mother for her incredible honesty to me as I grew up. I knew that PPD existed and that it might haunt me one day. She saw it in my eyes way before anyone else. That alone was one of the greatest comforts. It made it that much easier to see it and accept it. I can never thank her enough for that. It pains me to know that many women still suffer so deeply and desperately from this form of depression. That it is still so difficult to diagnose properly and treat. Something needs to be done! NOW! TODAY!

Today, October 24, is MOTHERS ACT day. I urge you to post about PPD on your blog and spread the word, arm yourself with knowledge and email, write, fax, or call your Senators to assist in passing the Mothers Act bill with the HELP bill that is
currently sitting in the Senate. The Mothers Act bill will help new moms-

Providing important education and screening on postpartum depression (PPD) that can lead to early identification and treatment. The legislation includes two grants to help health care providers educate, identify and treat PPD.
Expanding important research to improve and discover new treatments, diagnostic tools and educational materials for providers. Since the exact cause of PPD isn't known, research continues to be the key to unlocking the mystery of this condition.

So what else do you have to do today? Oh right! A ton. I know I do too. But this really will only take a moment. Help women like Katie, a missing Rhode Island woman and mother. Instead of being sent home with her family after her release from the hospital and diagnosis of PPD she was let go in a taxi. She has now been missing for over a month. This is more than tragic. For more information and ways to help Mothers Act read here. It is your good deed for today and for the future.

Hey New Yorker! I'm Talking to You!

And YOU suburbs of New Jersey and Connecticut! Time to firm up your plans for this weekend and realize that you only have one event you really need to be at. BASHED! That's right you heard me. BASHED!

Here's all you need to know.

WHO: The incredible people behind parent P-L-A-Y

WHAT: The ABC's of Party Planning. A one-stop shop for parents to find everything they could possibly ever need to know about planning any type of party for the under 16 set. There's good food, live music, seminars with people like Sylvia Weinstock and more. Want to throw a green party this year? I do! Learn about it here!

WHEN: Sunday, October 28 from 10-6 p.m.

WHERE: The Altman Bldg in Chelsea.

WHY: Do I really need to say it? Because it is the first EVER event like this in the Big Apple and it's incredibly cool. There will be so much to do and see there with live performances and lots of actions. Plus! A VERY nice goodie bag for you parents as well as an awesome and ever so handy guidebook with all the vendors listed and more. It's a must see for the fall scene.

HOW: However you can. JUST BE THERE! You don't want to miss it. It will make your life so much easier on the party front just for the guide alone. And yes, you CAN take the kids.


So do something different this weekend. Have a great day out with the family and get BASHED! You can thank me later. Now go check out the coupons and safe toy guide over at Mummy's.

We are in Mourning

I knew it would happen someday but I just kept thinking, "not in my house, not with my kid." Then it did. It didn't even start off slowly it was just a one day turn around and now there seems to be no going back.

Nap time. It used to be a blissful, though short feeling for me, two sometimes three hours. Then H and I had the bright idea to set up her toddler bed. Which by the way it is so not cool to go all judgy on Moms who do things at a different time than you. They do know their own kid after all and if that kid (T.D.) seems ready for a bed DO NOT preach about how "that is why she isn't napping...". It started at Nana's and continued here, it's not the toddler bed. Eesh! Anyway, we got her all excited about a 'big girl' bed and took down the front rail of the her crib. Now it's a nice low to the ground day bed. I even purchased a side rail that goes halfway across in a very D.L. situation that had me whispering to a seemingly frightened Babies R Us clerk. Don't ask. I have no plans to sue that clerk if the side rail doesn't work out but said clerk seemed fearful of recommending it to me despite me practically taking a blood oath that I wouldn't sue if my kid didn't like a mesh side rail. Wow. I wonder who she has dealt with in the past.

Needless to say the bed has worked out well. She likes it. She also doesn't get out of it at bedtime. Only nap time. Three hours I tell you. Three hours for a one hour nap. In that time I hear her dresser drawers opening and closing. There is scuffling above me as I work making it sound as if we have rabid squirrels living overhead. On one particular day I heard her bedroom door pop open and she emerged in a pink ski hat carrying a Target tote bag. Ooh la la tres chic! She does NOT like it when I remove her fashionable garments and place her back in bed. I will not back down though. Nap time is a must in our house. Even if no nap is involved.

So now nap times go something like this-

1 p.m.- Nap time T.D., night night! I cover her up and close the door. The crying begins.

1:10- Footsteps and squeals of delight are heard. She is talking to Elmo, Baby and anyone else who will listen. She calls the dog for help. The dog is napping.

1:22- Drawers open. Books are strewn around the room. If you were to peek inside you would find diapers meticulously laid out in rows as neat as a pin. Scary. I felt I shouldn't be looking.

1:45- Crying begins in earnest followed by ominous sounds of silence. Hopeful silence as I pray she is asleep.

2:03- Nope. Not asleep! I go back in her room and lay her back down. She cries hard and is red in the face. Crocodile tears rain down. The indignation of a big girl in a big girl bed having to take a nap!

More of the same transpires for the next hour. Then silence again. If I am lucky it is because sleep has found her. Nap time officially begins and the clock is running. I have an one hour.

So goodbye to the ready-set-nap days of two or more hours. My little girl no longer deems them necessary. It is with deep sadness that I let that long nap time go. Mommy needed those naps as much as T.D. still does! She is growing up. Shorter naptimes mean so much more than less work time for me. It is as if toddlerhood is in full effect and her baby days are gone forever.

Wacky Warning Labels!

Looking around my house this week I noticed that while yes I've gotten pretty good at weeding out many of the harmful chemicals and cleaners in my home there are still some that warrant some interesting and quite frankly wacky warning labels. Let's begin shall we?

1. Behold this bottle of Febreze


The back of the bottle states- 'Safe to use around pets and household items.' Great! Aren't we supposed to be spraying it on or around those items? Then it says, 'Do not spray directly into face.' You mean to tell me I can't Febreze myself instead of showering. Damn! I was all set to do that today too. Seriously? Who would spray Febreze in their face? It's not eau de cologne!

2. My washing machine





Notice the left hand picture. It asks that you kindly not wash items that have any type of oil on them including cooking oil. Ok... So not talking about gasoline soaked rags that sometimes make their way into my laundry room (don't ask) what about when I spill olive oil on my shirt? I toss the shirt? It also asks for you not to dry these items. Hold on! Aren't I using a washing machine right now? Tricky. Hmm...

But wait! There's more. Notice the picture on the right also known as my washing machine. It tells you how to get mechanical oil out of your clothes. Using the washing machine. If these warning labels are supposed to deter bizarre accidents that shouldn't occur if you used any sort of common sense then this washer is the devil in disguise. It's out to get you with it's confusing warning label ways. Beware of my Maytag!



This blog blast was brought to you today by PBN and Sick of Lawsuits. For more Wacky Warning Labels visit PBN and send your own versions in. There are $200 and $100 Visa gift cards being given away as prizes!!!

Also, some seriously beautiful handbags and a rather interesting review for your car over at Mummy's Product Reviews so go there too!

So is that like uh, a real job?

It is always when I'm about to go to an event with a lot of our friends that I begin to feel the 'I' word. Insecure. I didn't always feel that way. Nope. It only started when I quit my 9-5 job and decided to make a go of this whole writing thing that I felt these pangs of insecurity.

We go to an event and the topic of work comes up. No one asks me about my job anymore. I'm left out of the conversation unless I shoehorn my way in. When I would begin to talk about a particular project I could see the judgment. The "HA! Yeah right! You don't really work anymore, you just stay home." It has been said to me more than once. It has gotten to the point that now I don't even talk about work. Even if I'm really excited about something or something big is coming up I just find something else to talk about. Hell, I'm even traveling twice in one week for work and to me that is scary and exciting as hell but I won't be mentioning it this weekend. Why?

I don't really feel like a working Mom. This is especially the case when I talk about deadlines and people laugh in my face. When I mention how backed up I am and can't fit in another review and people look confused and then scoff. Yes, scoff at me because what I do must not actually be work. I just play with free stuff all day, write about it which probably only takes me five minutes. Never mind trying to write about other things as well. That's not work. I might as well just be surfing the MamaPop site all day.

I can't tell you how angry this makes me. Sometimes violently so. On some days I'm rearing for a fight because freelance work can be a lot like fighting. You are constantly looking for work and pushing for the chance to make a name for yourself and carve your little niche in the writing world. It is exhausting. Like any other working mom I juggle my time and work late. I sometimes need additional help with T.D. and I do get paid for a lot of the work I do. I make my own schedule and work from home so why in this telecommuting day and age is that seen as different and not real work? When I read Risa Green's article on Mommytrack'd this week it was just when those insecure feelings began rearing their ugly little heads. I could hear the scoffing, the snorts, and "yeah rights". Simply because I no longer work in a traditional office setting or because I no longer have benefits through my work I demean myself into thinking that I'm not a working mother despite that very much being the contrary. Maybe it's the lowering of my income that has done it as well but whatever it is I can't let myself spiral down into these thoughts and self-doubts anymore. I can't let the scoffers, naysayers and non-believers make a non-believer out of me.

I am a writer. This is my career. I chose this path which is more than just a j-o-b. I chose to listen to my heart and my gut and follow my dream to be a writer. Just because I'm not working in a newsroom or getting paid as much as I would like to be doesn't mean it is not work and I'm not working it. In order for others to take me seriously I need to start doing that with myself when I present myself to others. When people try to push me aside I can't let them. If it means I have to keep fighting in one way or another then I have to accept that and keep on fighting the good fight.

Giveaway Time!

Head on over to Mummy's Product Reviews for some great new items in the Fun Finds, new reviews (think organic t's and DVD's and more!) plus I'm giving away a DVD of Maggie and the Ferocious Beast just in time for Halloween!

So Tell Us How You Really Feel

Yesterday while having a snack with T.D. I was reading an article in Sunday's Washington Post regarding Hillary Clinton's campaign. In the article a voter made the comment- "aren't you just supposed to vote for who you think will win?"


AUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NOooo! I immediately turned to T.D. and said, "Listen up! When it's time for you to vote (to which she mused and said vwhote!) you need to vote with your heart and your head. DON'T vote for who you think will win. Vote for who you truly believe will serve you best!

That is what the great system of voting is all about, not who you think might win overall so get behind that candidate. Only do that if it is who you really want to win the election. Obviously. It really gets my undies in a bunch when I hear people say that. It seems to be the popular consensus too. That is even more infuriating. Why? Because many times who people THINK is going to win is based on the sheer fact that it is who they see in the media the most. Who has the most ads, air time, and money to spend. They agree with some things but that candidate has to say but he or she may or may not light the voters fire. They shrug and think, "rather vote for a winner than a loser right?" It's the American way. We want winners. We don't want to vote for a loser or even one we assume might be a loser.

It's terrifying to me. It is also why I concluded to T.D. after our pinky swear that she would vote with her head and heart and not the popular consensus (unless that is what she REALLY wants) that primary elections (click here for your states date) are so important. They are coming up and we really need to get out the vote. I can't express it enough! A primary election is all up to the people, the wonderful voters. Get out there! Vote for the candidate who you REALLY WANT TO SEE WIN the election come 2008. See what happens. You never know and your candidate might be in the final running.

Election time is exciting for the nation no matter what side you are on. I look forward to it each time. I feel my most patriotic and alive during election season. I inform myself across the board on all the candidate as best I can. I truly want to make the right decision not just for me but overall. Even if you log on to a small website like Brides Decide you will get a rounded out view of what each contender stands for and can vote accordingly. Do yourself and your country a favor this election year. Vote in the primaries! Vote for the candidate you are passionate about! Not just who you think will win. That's not what it's all about.

A Mother's Worst Fear

The realness and rawness of my dream last night was beyond belief. I had to be woken up by H. My sobbing woke him. I couldn't stop even after I was awake and I had to go check on T.D.

Being a mother is a lot of things but it is those dreams that we have that seem so horrific and real that really let you see the bigger picture. The depth of the love you have for your child that we sometimes get separated from in the every day mires of our lives. After of changing countless diapers, potty training, cleaning cheerio bits out of the car, finding crayon on windows, and telling your kid a rice cake is a cookie just to get them to eat it, you forget about the deep rawness that is the love you have for your child.

I think my subconscious was reeling me back in last night. I dreamt that T.D. was taken from our home in the middle of the night. Abducted. We were asleep and had no idea until it was too late. When she was found across town only a mere three hours later she was dead. Strangled by a stranger who had crept into our home and destroyed the life we knew. It was truly beyond description. The intensity of the emotions. The realness. I could smell the night air. The shock and disbelief, the guilt that I should have heard someone just across the hall, and the grief. The wailing and oh the incredible pain. I'm glad H woke me because I couldn't take much more. I felt I wanted to die myself. My face still feels swollen from the crying.

After I calmed down I quietly snuck into T.D.'s room breathing in the scent of her as I entered. There she was in her toddler bed still in the position of a baby. Her little butt in the air , arms and legs all tucked in. I covered her with her green blanket and she startled awake. She turned to me and smiled and I smiled back with great relief. I patted her back to sleep and wished someone could pat me back to sleep. My mind was racing still and my emotions still bubbling up. I finally drifted off a little later but today I feel exhausted. Emotionally spent and done.

Being a mother is way more than wiping bottoms and showing your child how to eat with a spoon or tie a shoe. The emotional investments creep up on you and slam you over the head sometimes leaving you stunned and reeling. This parenting thing is not for the faint of heart.

Saturday Morning Wake Up Call

I had a dream last night. One of those dreams where I know I need to listen. Two old men sat at a picnic table by a lake. They were the gruff no nonsense types with the unmistakable air that only retired cops possess. There was nothing film noir about them or the situation. I got the feeling I needed to heed what they were saying though. Girlie needed to listen up as what they were telling me was incredibly important. One more thing. They were dead.

They told me that I knew what I had to do. I had to get closure. I needed to do that in two ways. One I needed to find out what happened. I know cryptic right? But I knew exactly what they were talking about. The second thing being that I had to write about it. I had to take the two books I had already started that are in a similar vein and combine them with the third that has yet to be written. This they told me was my story to tell. They chuckled and exchanged a familiar glance making me think they knew each other in life. The tougher looking one said, "Aren't you writers supposed to write about what you know anyway?" I quietly said, "Yes that sounds about right". I smiled up at them and asked if I could leave now. I was excused but I had to remember this. I had to remember what they told me when I woke up. There is a story in me and no matter what I think when I wake up I had to remember it and write it.

It's true. It's been there all this time and I've tried so hard to write it and at the same time to stamp it out. Write what you know right? Well, what if I write it and it hurts people I love to read these things? What if I write it and despite it being fictionalized it still rings true and causes problems? What if a lot of things. What if it's too scary and hard? Heh. That is about the gist of it.

I'm sure other writers have come across this problem. The story is there and all at once at the most inopportune times the words come tumbling out. The words are there in writers block and get tangled in your brain. They form a web holding you captive for far too long. You live inside your head a lot in those times which can be an alternately fascinating yet frightening place. You can taste and feel the words. Visualize them spilling forth and hitting the page. You know it's there. All you have to do is commit. Write it. You can only go on so many runs before you hit a wall and know it's time to sit and write that story that you are supposed to tell.

Yeah I'm this bored...

So while reading comments and doing some admin on the blog I got sidetracked and found this forgotten .. gem? Can I even call it that? All I know is that it made me laugh at some of the well randomness I can come up with.

Enjoy-

Vintage Mummy.

I have too much time on my hands some days.

Bunches of Stuff

Two things as it's Friday and I don't want to tax our brains too much.

Yesterday, I was at my local Target where I managed to only purchase one item! That alone should be a front page story. I spent less than $20 too. I'm quite proud of this feat. Here's the actual story.

As I was getting T.D. out of her car seat two men about the age of 28? walked over to their car parked next to me. They were nice well kept gentlemen I suspect from the Marine Corps base nearby. I smiled at them as I extracted T.D. from her many belts and buckles. They barely smiled back and one impatiently said to his friend, "So just back the car up so I can get in." Apparently my car door being open for more than 2.5 seconds was 1.5 seconds too long for him to wait to get into his car. Really. I was already pulling her out and turning to them to smile when they approached. There was no wait. I looked at them and then back to T.D. I smiled sweetly and said in my nicest 'Mummy knows best' voice, "Patience! It's a virtue. Please have some!" I smiled again and walked away. I was actually fuming mad. I couldn't help but think a few things.

One- To quote SJP in an episode of SATC- "Oh! You're just soooo busy!" You want busy? It's a Thursday mid-day and you are strolling through the Target parking lot! I'll tell you what busy is! I'll run through the list of everything I've done just this morning sonny! Don't make me get my list out! Stop being such an EWG (entitled white guy)!

Two- Have some freakin' patience! I know that when you see a Mom and kid car seat situation you cringe. You sigh and huff. I'm well aware of that. Pre-kid I never waited for a parking spot from a parent loading their kids into their car. That is just pushing someone who might not need that additional stress. Besides we don't always take 87 hours to load ourselves into our cars or get out of them. Why don't you cring and huff about the people who have NO ONE but THEMSELVES to get into their car and it takes them 87 hours to get in and back out. What's up with THOSE people?!

Three- I think I really sounded like Mary Poppins in a sing song voice that would have set my teeth on edge if I had heard it. Hopefully it will make them think twice about being in such a hurry and rude. I doubt it but you never know. Considering I was post-workout and still sweating in an attractive dark grey Rollins shirt and black capri workout sweats I'm sure they just thought, "Oh! look how she let herself go after having a kid. That woman's feet are Ginormous!"

I was going to go into a bit about JM's (Judgemental Mom's) and something that happened to me the other day but I'm saving that for a whole other website. Days later I'm still amazed at how callous one woman can be about another. It makes me think twice about this whole person in general.

On another note H told me that I looked "not like a Mom at all" yesterday. My butt apparently looked "cute" in my ratty old jeans. When I asked him why he thought I looked non-mom he stated, "What Mom do you know that wears a Rollins t-shirt and Chucks?" I replied, "A lot I hope." He looked at me as if he knew better. Prove me right! Send me pics of you in not-so-Momish-attire! I'll post up here on the site and give away a fun prize pack to the lucky winner!Email photos to veamason at gmail dot com.

Have a great weekend everyone! See Mummy's Product Reviews for two new additional and yes, quite fabulous reviews! You'll find a cookbook by Jessica Seinfeld- get your kids to eat their veggies without them even knowing it! Plus another amazing bag!

Finally!

It is Fall! Finally! I feel like strains of Etta James's 'At Last' should be playing in the background. The wind is up, the air cool and crisp, and the red crayon marks on the windows now feel adequately festive and in season. The dog is giving me the stink eye for letting her outside without informing her first of the temperature change.

It's Fall! My favorite time of year. To be a cliche of a blogger I will now wax poetic or something akin to that about the wonders and beauty of Fall. Always with a capital 'F' in my book.

The light changes this time of year. There is a golden quality about it that happens around three o'clock. What E and I used to refer to as "K-mart lighting" as it feels like you got in on special. It's not as powerful as summer sunlight. My run feels more relaxing without the relentless sun beating down on me. Cool breezes propel me along as I crunch through the leaves taking in the brilliant colors and decorated doors and stoops along my way.

It's time to break out the jeans and sweaters that have been tucked away in tissue all summer long. Boots are taken lovingly out of their shoe boxes and darker nail polish is applied with finesse. Fall. I am in love with you. October is my favorite month. The trio of red, yellow and orange are the best of the color bunch. I want to wrap straw around my lamppost and hang a wreath full of leaves from my front door. Pumpkins glisten with morning frost on my front step and Halloween will be here before we know it.

To think it was 80 degrees only yesterday and I was bitchin' about tank tops. I know that with the rains of November which seem exciting now I will be yearning for those same tired tanks as the weather turns to winter. For now I will relish pumpkin treats, golden colors, and fall's great wealth of beauty. Take a walk today and really see the season around you.

So there you go. A nice sappy little post for you today. My teeth are aching from the sweetness. Guess I won't be needing that extra helping of candy corn now.

A Pox On Our House

So I lied. It's not really a pox though for some reason I have an inordinate amount of giant bug bites on my legs right now. It's October for crying out loud! We are a sick house. T.D. and the dog are the only ones who haven't succumbed. Yet. T.D. will get it just as we are all getting better I fear.

Tissues lay scattered on the floor. Empty juice containers fill the recycling bin at warp speed and there isn't enough lemon and honey to satisfy me. I am achey and tired. I wish I hadn't already watched all my fun DVR shows and I still have to work because that's right I work at home. Right now working at home consists of not infecting my kid.

So I leave you with these fun reminders-

1. New REVIEWS up at Mummy's Product Reviews. There's always something to learn about including an item called Nundies so check it out.

B. It's not too late to sign up for Vocal Point. Let your voice be heard by major companies and watch fun shows, listen to music and try products. I received some last week!

87. If you are living in NYC and looking for something fabulous to do that is not the norm you MUST check out BASHED! on October 28. It will be incredible and I'll be there! PLUS IF YOU ARE A NYC BLOGGER and want to help give a little buzz to this event email me. veamason at gmail dot com.

F. My friend Char has this great travel blog. She is currently taking a leave of absence from work to live in Germany and travel for two months. Amazing no? I would love that! Give Char some love. The girl sat in a gray cube next to me for a while listening to my banal work stories, helped plan my wedding eons ago, has kept in touch with me through the years, and basically has been an excellent friend no matter what the situation. I love her. So send her some traffic!

Now I'm going to lay moaning on the couch wishing some fairy would bring me tea with lemon and take my jeans (why are all jeans now incredibly LONG?!) to the tailor for me. The gym is so out today.

She That No Longer Speaks

Disgruntled. Angry. Exasperated. Annoyed. Futile. Pissed Off! That is me. I think futile and PO'ed really nail it though. I hate to do this because it could be seen as burning a bridge but I'm wondering if I'm the only one here who is going through this.

See in the past I have written for a great little review site (not PBN! which is great and wouldn't dream of doing this to a writer!) that I really believed in. They gave me a shot and I felt good seeing my stuff in print even with out a byline. That was promised but has yet to come through. That seems to be the problem. They don't come through. With payment. I've asked nicely sending along my invoices each time they print a piece of mine. It's paltry money. It was supposed to be a regular gig. It didn't work out that way. That is fine. Yet here I sit six months later without my measly $175 in payment. Emails have gone unanswered. Excuses have come up that are I am now deeming as lame and inexcusable. This is no way to run a business. I am angry and ready to take legal action over a paltry $175 merely on principal.

I am a work at home mother! I don't make gazillions doing these blogs and such. I barely cover the cost of my student loan. I need each pay check. I EARN that through nap times and random moments that I eek out during my days. This is not easy money by any means. When you say you won't print an article because it doesn't fit and then do it anyway do you think I won't notice? I keep tabs on my stuff! I keep tabs on the money that is owed to me. There are plenty of other companies that pay on time and do business well.

I just want to be paid and go on my way. I won't write for them again unless they pay BEFORE an article which I know they won't do. I just had to vent. Now see if you can figure out what is no longer being plugged in my 'Places I Write' section. If you too have been burned by a company and not paid let me know! Maybe we can form a disgruntled support group. Want to donate and help me raise the $175 to pay my student loan this month- just email me how! You think I'm kidding. I'm not. I am just feeling futile and pissed off!


*If you want to feel less futile this week join us in the Breast Fest Day or the Montage!

On the Side of Dexter

If you haven't watched Showtime's show Dexter then you have no idea what you are missing. I will preface it this, at a party recently when the topic of new fall shows came up someone said, "Ooh! I have a great show! Do you mind blood?" The conversation went from there. You have to not mind oceans of blood with Dexter. Five bodies worth. Dexter is also a Sociopath and this is how I side with him.

I have mentioned a few times before on this here blog that I am not a touchy feeling person. I can't say this enough. I don't fawn over things, I don't hug much, and in high school I was called an Ice Princess on way more occassions than I can count. Apparently I have been this way since birth. I've always struggled out of hugs, given the slightest kiss, and really just not remembered to even do these things or that other people like them. I have to remind myself to pet my dog people. Really. I have to literally say to myself, "It's been over a day, you should probably pet the dog." So I do.

When T.D. came along it was different. She is the first being I don't have to remind myself to touch. It's a freakin' let out o a sigh of relief miracle. I was really worried about it. I just don't think to do these things. For instance, when I would come home from college and step foot off the plane, my brain would say, "Remember to hug your parents and let them hug you. They like it so just do it." Weird huh? Makes me feel like a sociopath. This is how I side with the character of Dexter, a person who had to learn what normal behavior is in order to fit in with the rest of the world. He doesn't instinctively hug people, kiss his girlfriend, or do any other sort of physical contact unless he reminds himself. It is the one thing about myself I wish I could change. I wish there was a button I could push and presto chango I would remember that people like hugs. They like to cuddle and hold hands. They don't like it when you don't remember. When you forget. It hurts them. They also don't like when you weasel out of hugs and such. That hurts too. Somehow there are some neurons or something that don't connect in me. Something that never got switched on. I hate to see it as a fault in me but I suppose it is. Most people don't have to tell themselves, "Ok you will be seeing your friend today that you haven't seen in a long time. Remember to hug her. Don't be surprised when she hugs you."

It used to be that bad and over time I have gotten more practice and behave on many levels of affection like a normal person. Yet, on a day to day basis I often forget to. It sucks. I feel like a freak because of it and I wish I knew of other people who are like me. Who have to remind themselves to pet their dogs, hug friends, and behave like a normal person. Because when H gives me a hug I really do like it. It's just that in between the hug times that I forget and I wish I wouldn't.

Michael's a.k.a. Pain & Suffering in Suburbia

Dear Micheal's Craft Store,

Or should I be calling you Crafty store? You suck me in each time with the power to persuade me that I really can bake a four tiered cake with sugared flowers and fondant decor. All done by me and my masterful hand. Ha! Your masterful hand. Like a Puppet Master you hold the strings as I glide slowly down the aisles being seduced by your sparkly paste gemstones, beads, and modeling clay. Your bright and colorful displays of silk flowers lure me in making me feel inadequate when I know that no amount of green foam or designer dish will make my floral creation something of beauty.

Each time I go in for one thing only and come out with foam pumpkins (only 50 cents!) and fabric paint. You are tricky Michael's. Very tricky. I dream of weddings gone by that could have used your expertise and the delicate yet cheap looking Christmas ornaments I could attach to future presents. When I go to find the right style garland to match what I already own your staff vacantly stares at me and points me towards the wall of baskets. I become incensed. I circle your store getting angrier by the second. I only want one thing and I CAN NEVER FIND IT no matter what it is!

My cart gets clipped by a jutting display of wooden boats that just need some paint! Bored children abound, including my own. Elderly women clog the aisles and play some sadistic Michael's induced game with me and my cart. They pop up in the most unexpected places blocking my way and ceasing to move. No amount of "Excuse me, Ma'am" is nice enough. For some inexplicable reason that I can only surmise as yet another mean Michael's trick these very same slow as Molasses in January women suddenly all appear as if from thin air at the register at the very same moment that I do.

Armed only with my two foam pumpkins (50 cents only!) and a cookie cutter I am at last at the register. I look into my cart and there's now about $50 worth of scrap booking materials and an additional $75 in picture frames. Do I need these? My mind is a fog. I can't recall how they got into the cart. All I know is now my kid is in meltdown mode and there are three slow women in front of me with all manner of difficult tasks. Coupons for items that no longer exist but yet they now possess in their claw like hands, returns that are past their 60 day return mark, and one confused look and attitude. My blood pressure rises. My hands clench the handlebar of the cart. I tap my foot and shake a bag of green meltable chocolate at my child.

Why Michael's? Why?! Why do you do this to me each and EVERY time I venture into your store? The story is always the same. The aisles look eerily empty yet the register always has the same painfully long and slow wait. The clerks move at the speed of a Galapagos tortoise on Valium and the customers are the same. I never cease to leave your store without feelings of failure and doomed projects hanging over my inexperienced head and a heart condition from the stress your registers never fail to cause me. EACH TIME I SWEAR I WILL NEVER GO BACK. Then weeks sometimes only days later I tell myself it will be different this time. I make excuses for your past horrible service. Convincing myself that this time it will be different and that I really am crafty.

It never is. I never am. Micheal's, you are the bain on my suburban existence. I wish I could quit you but I see you have pastel pom poms by the dozens at 75% off and I feel inexplicably compelled to buy them. They would look great on a lamp shade I now see is in my cart.





******FRIDAY GIVEAWAY!!!!*******

I'm giving away one copy of Jen Lancaster's new book, Bright Lights, Big Ass, and some fun surprises, to one lucky! Be the first to email me with Jen's first book title in the subject line and you are the winner! veamason at gmail dot com.

There are also NEW REVIEWS up! Check them out!

Continuing in the vein (OK that just sounds gross) of Project Life Change I'm not working today. The pull is strong and it means that tomorrow I will have to work doubly hard but I feel it is time for a day of rest.

I knew going into this work from home thing that in effect I would never actually leave work. Especially when I happen to leave my laptop on all the time and out in the open. It tempts me. Holding court on whatever surface it lands. Beckoning me like a siren to type more words. Blog one more thing. I will resist today and live in the day.

I'll take a walk with TD despite the fog rolling in off our almost completely dried up river. We will do some fun crafty project involving leaves I think and read lots of books. We might return some picture frames as well but at least I'm not glued to the screen and keyboard.

I hope that Project Life Change will work out well and eliminate things like this from further happening in our house.



I had no idea wood floors needed to be mowed. Duly noted.



Clearly it's October in our house as the home decor magazines are mixing with the Halloween costume accouterments. (Mind out of the gutter and Mom stop crying! That was from some ill-fated costume I wore one year as the Angel of Death. A whole other story for another day or blog)


No Mess Paints my ass. At least they are clear but four hair washings later and the goop still holds. Eesh.

Reduce the Crazy- Project Life Change

So there I was reading all about Project Life Change from some great bloggers and I thought, well what a swell idea but I've already done that. Remember? I quit my job back in January to stay home with T.D. and pursue my writing. A life long dream. What could be better than that?

Except for one thing.

It's called balance. Coupled with my inability to say no to a writing gig or almost anything else and I am swamped! Swamped with writing for free half the time too. Sure I get loads of free products and that's great! My friends think I'm the luckiest person for all that stuff that arrives daily at my front door. Except that they don't have to review it. I get bogged down in the boxes and using things and keeping such a tight schedule. I have stopped enjoying it. I want to do different things but I'm always ripping open some new item to review and it was starting to make me and our whole house a bit crazy.

"No T.D.! Don't play with that toy! Watch this DVD instead!"
"Don't you want to wear this new shirt? Come on! It's fun!
"Now let's find out what the streets are saying about that shirt! MUSH!"

Yeeeaaah. You get the drift.

So I made a pact with myself and with H. No more new stuff this year. What is on the books, which quite frankly has me to the end of the year, is it. Nothing else. All new stuff goes into next years review which will be down to two a week instead of three plus. It's just too much. So I'm learning to say no or actually, yes, but not until next year on some things. It's a relief. A big one.

It also frees up my time for things like, oh... actually communicating with my daughter and taking walks or going on play dates and not just busying her while I write up another piece. I can free my mind too and let the creative writer take over and there are things that are definitely brewing. Hearing about this Project Life Change initiative was just in time and what I needed. What my family needed. I needed to step back once again and reduce the busy/crazy and focus on what is truly important and the number one reason I'm home. My daughter.


Feel free to read more about the project here and look for me as a contributor there as well! I'm so excited about this website I can't even tell you! It's everything I love in one great space!


Oh yeah! While you are at it head on over to the review site over on the right hand sidebar. New stuff is up this week and Friday we are having a giveaway! One lucky reader will win the new Jen Lancaster book Bright Lights, Big Ass and some other fun items so stay tuned!

Vicariously Through Me

A few weeks ago I posted about my lack of cojones when it comes to getting my picture taken with a certain Mr. Rollins. Henry Rollins. I promised all my 30 or so readers that I would work up the nerve this time and do it. I would wait with all the other starstruck groupies and get my five second photo op.

Did it happen? Why of course. I would not let my 20 (including my Mom) loyal readers down.

What couldn't have been better was a large part of Hank's set was how awestruck and dumb he gets when he's around certain people he admires. He gets all nerdy and "remember when" on them and basically can't speak. So we just let ourselves get pelted by peanuts and 11 years later still remember it fondly. I laughed pretty hard at this point since I knew I may get my photo but I was going to clam up with nothing witty to say and probably not get pelted with food this time.

So there I was hanging out back with H feeling like an even bigger dork because my hair isn't purple, I'm not from back in the day, and I don't have any tats (even though in a recent polling on my block most of the Moms think I must have at least one and a few piercings. Seriously? My blog's name is The Mummy Chronicles and there are pearls involved.) I digress.

We walk around. We wait. H makes jokes about how I'm not allowed to grab his butt. Ha Ha. Sadly, he doesn't have one. Then there he is whizzing past me so fast that I didn't even see him and H is pushing me in his general direction. EEK! I put myself towards the back of the line. I watch and wait. I don't feel cool enough. I don't wear cat-eye glasses or Herman Munster style boots. I'm wearing wedge sandals and designer jeans. I have highlights that are not a primary color. I'm also wearing a shirt I will never wear again because it adds about 50 lbs to me. I'm not hitting the gym five days a week for that. Suddenly there is a weird lull. No one is moving forward. The guy next in line turns to me and says, "You? Next?" Oh! Really? I'm not sure.... H pushes me forward. Oh. OK. Now. Hm...

I move to the front of the line. I just barrel up to Hank and offer my hand to shake. "Hi! Good show!" I lamely say. I want to say, oh so much. Like remember UMCP in 1996 (full dork mode going) when you played a tiny ballroom and I was like drooling, laughing and looking all together nutty in the front row? No? Ok, well after? In the press room? You threw peanuts at me because I was struck too dumb to speak to you." Yeah. That was me.... Instead I just said, after his stunted "Hi." "OK! PICTURES!" I smiled lamely and H snapped a shot and then shook his hand and I got the hell out of there.

So here you go. I did it.



Does he not look like I might be holding a gun to his back? Or that he is thinking, "How is this woman with all her highlights and lipgloss possibly a fan of mine? She's scary."



***UPDATE***OVERHEARDS AT ROLLINS***

1. "I've been in love with you since I was 13!" Get in line honey, I was 15. Rollins may state that he has no game, but EARTH TO HANK! You don't need it. I can almost guarantee at least half the women who stand in line backstage have more than an autograph in mind.

2. "I found him compelling and well...he makes you think." Great. That was the point.

3. "I drove up here from North Carolina!" See I'm telling you, doesn't just want you to sign her book.

And the Perfect Post Award Goes to...

Izzy Mom for her post on Sept. 24th Of Guilt and Greif.

This post is perfect to me for it's intense honesty and realizations. It touched me and made me realize that I am not alone in having such a hard time with these situations and for the feelings of guilt I have often felt when it comes to how I deal with those who are sick or dying. It is something I dislike in myself and yet can't seem to get past. Each time the situation arises I swear I will be different and then I am not. To me, this part is everything I think and then wonder, am I the only one who feels this way? How do others do this?

It’s not that I’m afraid of illness or I think that I’ll catch it or anything ridiculous like that. I just don’t know what to say or do. I can’t sit there and pretend everything is fine when it isn’t. I can’t make pleasant small talk like everything is normal when I know someone is dying. I find great discomfort in discussing anything trivial, which most things are, because it feels like pretending. It feels wrong.

And yet, you can’t walk up to somebody with a terminal illness and just launch into a depressing conversation about their fate, about the unlucky hand they’ve been dealt.

I just don’t know how to act and ultimately I end up avoiding the whole situation.

So for just being so honest and putting it out there I award Izzy Mom the Perfect Post Award for September 07. See who else has been awarded the Perfect Post for September by visiting Petroville or Suburban Turmoil.