It's More Than Just a Song

The idea of having a theme song has been the subject of a few blog posts out there in the blogosphere and even a frequent topic on such ancient shows of yore like Ally McBeal. I realized today as I was taking what should be my daily walk that my theme song has been the same for years. Hasn't changed since I first laid ears on it back in high school and despite being overplayed many times over the last few decades it still manages to do all those little things that theme songs are supposed to do.

It energizes you. You hear that special little ditty and you instantly feel like dancing. Or shouting and doing all sorts of ridiculous things like you see in Mentos commercials and what not. My theme song makes me take over dance floors at weddings, grocery stores, sidewalks and wherever else I hear it. It is to the point now that people seem to think of me when they hear it. Probably because I made them listen to it (not at gun point, but close) so many freakin' times since they've known me. They cringe a bit too I'm quite sure.

When I found out that my choice of song was also one of my uncle's favorite songs it gave me not just a warm fuzzy feeling and incidentally a partner in bad dancing crime but it made me realize how a good theme song can span generations. Aww, the sap of it I know.

Then today, I heard it again. Out of the blue, OK out of the iPod shuffle if you must know, but I had forgotten it was there and had skipped over it so many times lately deeming it overplayed pap. As I jauntily walked down the street (as jaunty as a six months pregnant woman can be) I listened to the lyrics and realized that on a whole new level this song still applies to me. It not only still makes me feel all peppy and like breaking into Fame-like dance moves, which is really bad and it still reminds me of all the wonderful times I had with friends in high school, college and my twenties, but that we women and mothers have days where we are barely surviving and that we are simply just... Stayin' Alive.

And there you go. My Theme Song.

Do you have one?

Am I a Manners Nazi?

I tried not to get my undies in a bunch. I tried not to eavesdrop, I swear.

In my defense, H was at the bathroom with T.D. and the restaurant was so quiet it was hard not to hear the conversation going on at the next table.

Mother: "Put that game-boy (or whatever piece of electronic gaming device the kid had in hand) down! The dinner table is not the place and you've been on it for about five hours today! Give it to me! Now!"

Kids meekly hands over gaming device.

Father: Rolls eyes. "Why can't he have it? He's not bothering anyone."

Mother: Exasperated sigh. "Why?! Because the dinner table or a restaurant is not the place for these things. We were not allowed to do this type of stuff when we were kids."

Father: "We didn't have toys like this and electronics when we were kids! We had coloring books and regular books..."

At this point, H came back to the table and I grinned at him. Ah, blog fodder...

There are two points in this conversation that stand out to me. The first one being that this conversation should not even be occurring in front of the kid. It should have been conducted earlier between the parents alone, working out their opinions on the matter or just continued later without the child present. Kids don't need to see that sort of differing of opinion on discipline issues. Then they know how to divide and conquer. It happens, yes, but that was my first thought.

Second, reading, playing games of the electronic type or other such things is a no-no at the dinner table at home and out. At least it was when I was a kid. Sure, we let T.D. color her place mat but she's 2 and when food arrives we take the stuff away. However, this kid was about ten. Old enough to hold a conversation and sit still without entertainment. Not to be all old and curmudgeonly but back in my day, that was not allowed. The issue of books vs. electronic toys which were not always available is a moot point. Reading at the table was considered rude to the other people at the table. You contributed to the conversation and if you didn't have anything to add then you simply sat and listened. Or stared at a wall. Heaven forbid you stare at other restaurant patrons or try to slink beneath the table.

Am I just a manner Nazi here or do I have a point? Does this stuff even matter anymore? You tell me.

Fear and Loathing- The Today Show

I realized something today.

I hate the Today Show.

No, actually, check that. I loathe the Today Show.

Why?

Because it has quite possibly the most insipid segments on it. They seem like a good idea at the time but then the advice springs forth and I find myself wanting a blunt object to gouge my eyes out to hide myself from the bullet points of tips and tricks.

I never watch this tripe unless of course someone I know is on it and even then I DVR the sucker and fast forward through all the heinous parts and most certainly that last hour with Kathie Lee. You know what I'm talking about too. That last hour alone will deliver a slow death to your brain as it numbs it into submission and then sucks all and any self-preserving knowledge you might have contained in your noggin previously. That's it, really, I would rather watch Noggin for hours on end than an episode of the Today Show.

Why am I this much in arms over something I can easily ignore? Simply this, the news stories are for about 15 minutes. Ann Curry is insulted. The handy dandy little segments and nuggets of helpful knowledge are anything but that. They play on the viewer being a complete moron who cannot think for themselves. It's sad too because back in the day, not even that long ago, the Today Show had actual news. There was real reporting and not just pilfered ad spots and PR people blatantly handing the anchors something to dish about. Now global news is which celebrity is overseas having a baby this week and who made the best dressed list world-wide. It's maddening.

That segment today about what to do if you do not like or trust your doctor had some stellar advice indeed, "Find a new doctor." Go ahead, bang your head on something hard. I wanted to too.

Golly gee, Matt Lauer you are Brilliant, with a capital B.

The rest of the show continued on this path until I found myself nearly hurling my MIL's remote at her television set. I need to watch the tube to get that sort of common sense advice? Is America really that helpless? God help us if we are.

I fear for my brain and for our future.

Back to School

I may be a lucky SOB of a blogger for not getting hate mail but I am a lazy one too.

Quite spontaneously on Friday, we decided to blow our pop stand of a town and leave our community pool in the dust for the weekend. We headed south in search of cool riverside breezes and the ‘only for us’ pool that is my mother in law’s house. I feel like Wallace from ‘The Wire’ as I listen to a sound that has become foreign to me. It is the sound of crickets at night. Despite having such prehistorically large crickets in our basement that jump out at you like ghouls in the night, we do not ever hear them even in suburbia. I had forgotten lightening bugs existed as well.

So here we are.

No Wi-Fi for me and barely any cell reception, ridiculously behind on my work.

T.D. as spoiled as ever by almost two weeks of non-stop Nana time.

I’ve spent the last few days doing nothing but reading, Oil!, seeing not a moment of television and eating succulent peaches, juicy pieces of melon and gazing with white hot longing at everyone else’s perspiring bottles of beer. I might give an arm right now for a bottle of Blue Moon Pale Ale if asked but instead I content myself to lay by the pool soaking up some sunscreen halted rays of sun. It is the last of this for a while because as of the end of last week we had some rather big news.

H has a new job and it starts in a week.

The back to school countdown has begun.

Am I Just a Lucky SOB of a Blogger?

While I was at BlogHer (I know, I know! Enough already about your little love fest, called BlogHer!) I listened to many women bloggers talk about hate mail. The nasty comments they get about their parenting skills, life choices, children and more. Then yesterday I was reading my friend Kristen's blog and read a nastygram that she had received regarding a recent post of hers and it dawned on me.

It's been ages since I received any hate mail. What does that say about me I began to wonder? Am I that middle of the road? Do my readers just adore me that much?! Heh. Am I that boring or am I just that lucky? They say you have really made it when the masses decide to turn on you, but then again they also say no news is good news. Does that apply to evil commenter's too?

Really, the last time I received anything mildly inflammatory was when I quit my desk job and a few co-workers found the blog and decided to pounce. Sadly, they were anonymous and didn't have anything really of note to say. It got boring fast. I once made a comment about Catholic guilt and that riled someone up good (she told me she never wanted the misfortune of reading me again.) but that's been it. It seems everyone must agree with me and my perspective.
I'm even going to assume that everyone has Joan Crawford days like me. Which by the way, if you want to further dispel that Mommie Dearest myth you simply must read, Not the Girl Next Door, by Charlotte Chandler. No wire hangers, indeed.

I guess you all believe in limited television for children, seeing the fun side of Darth Vader, liberal politics and retro parenting. Also, drinking while pregnant, beating small animals and laughing at small children while they cry.

Excuse me, while I go out to buy a carton of Winston lights for T.D. and myself. We're running a bit low and we have a possible road trip in our future. A road trip where I will be sure to let her consume at least two BIG GULPS in under two hours and will ignore all potty requests. What's a little urine in the car seat, right?

The Lay-Off- A Month Done and Gone

So there it is. A full month has gone by since the day that H came home declaring himself no longer gainfully employed. So much has happened in the last few weeks and life has taken to flowing a whole new way.

For one thing, we all sleep later. It is as if we are all on summer vacation. Fancy that. Except we are missing that carefree feeling of running to the ice cream truck and lazing by the pool. While H has devised a schedule of job hunting as a full time job and completing long overdue tasks around the house, my work has suffered. While I try to keep TD occupied and out of Daddy's hair it is almost impossible to do unless some electronic box is used to placate her. This annoys H to no end. When it's just TD and me we work together. She plays at my side while I try and diligently work away at least for four minute spans of time or whatever she is gracious enough to give me. Add Daddy into the equation and the kid is a 24/7 Daddy seeking missile. While it is also true that I get to run errands sans child now, a luxury I savor each time I employ it, our days are different and have less structure than they did before.

H and I have had to learn to communicate on a whole new level what with being up in each other's pie holes each and every day. We feel closer as a family though, and I did not believe for one second all that hooey about quality time as a family that people commented on in my original lay-off post, I have found that this indeed is true. Our routine might be a bit changed. We have regained our sense of balance in this new life and found new ways to thrive as a family. It all makes me almost grateful. Grateful to know that despite freezing our gym memberships, eliminating our contributions to TD's college fund and all the other cutbacks we have dealt with, including health insurance hell, we have found the basis of who we are as a family with even more clarity than we had previously. Things happen for a reason and for us it seems we needed to concentrate on our little family, to see who we are as individuals again and welcome this new baby in a much more unhurried fashion. It's a bit beautiful and I never anticipated that.

Are you choking down your lunch now? Are you trying not to vomit from all the schmaltz? Yeah, me too. Yet it is all true.

I get the funny feeling though that when H does go back to work it will be as if summer has ended and fall has begun. It will be back to school time for everyone in the house.

It's a Surreal Life Sometimes

It's been one month since H got laid off. One month of some of the strangest times we've had. From worrying about our health insurance to wondering if we'll make our mortgage payment. Oh, and then we went on vacation. And Graco came calling asking me to do a little car seat campaign for them. Then BlogHer. Just when I thought our life would return to its somewhat banal suburban existence BBC America came calling.

Yeah, you heard me.
BBC America.
In my house.
Today.
What I thought was spam at first glance turned out to be an interview request. There I sat in my pajamas with my hair all askew and my morning coffee by my side just stunned, mouth probably hanging open staring at the request. My DC Metro Moms post, "Day One- I Feel Like a Statistic" had been previously picked up for syndication and now this was a result of it.

With Obama overseas this week the BBC is doing a piece about how for many Americans the real issue is the less than stellar economy. America has changed a lot since the last election and we need to find out what is really going through the minds of a typical American family. A typical American family who until recently may have lived a rather blissful life but now themselves unemployed.

Enter us. I have to say this right here and now to all you bloggers/writers out there. Just when you think you are writing for nothing and no one cares about what you think or say something like this can happen and suddenly you feel not only heard but that what you are writing is actually reaching readers. I'm stunned and excited and a bit stupefied.

Now that the BBC crew has come and gone and our house no longer has camera and lighting equipment in it we can go about the everyday humdrum of fighting the laundry monster, writing reviews about products that scare T.D. and trying to find jobs. Ah, the excitement never ends. Still, I think our life might be a bit surreal.

BlogHer '08- The Newbie Perspective

BlogHer is over and done with and I must say it was a crazy blur. A good blur though and for this Blogher newbie it could not have been better. Is it too Mary Tyler Moore of me to say it was all I could have hoped for and more? Yeah, probably but suck it, I'm optimistic today.

Before I left for the trip I had heard all sorts of advice. Tips and tidbits like-

- There are all sorts of cliques and popular people. They stick together and you probably won't meet them. Don't get bent out of shape if they diss you.

Huh... I found none of that. I heard some griping about it but I met everyone I wanted to and worship blog-wise so I'm good. I can die a happy blogger now. I geeked out over everything sufficiently and feel sated. For this year.

- You will need to pack an extra bag for all the swag.

Oh yes! The SV Moms shindigs alone had my rather large suitcase already filled to capacity. Then I filled a duffel bag that could fit about 6-7 angry chihuahuas and still needed to UPS a box home. That herbicide better make it to my front door in one piece and not get all over my Super Why stickers.

-Don't feel you need to go to all the conferences and seminars. You just can't do it and you'll ruin the experience.

True again. I went to two. Feels a bit wasteful since I have to say I felt I wasn't paying for my portion of the food (some protein at breakfast next year would be vastly appreciated! I'm not even going to go into the plastic I felt was thrown around with wild abandon at lunchtime.) Each one I enjoyed immensely and the mini-one on Sex and Relationships needs to be a full on discussion next year.

For me, BlogHer was a very positive experience in so many ways. It was a fun whirlwind of independence from the spouse and family. A place where I am sure many of us women were reveling in the fact that is was just us, being us, for a few solid days. As Lindsay (eek! I got to meet her!) said it best here. That and it did feel a bit like a women's empowerment movement (I could totally hear the roar.) and a bit like sorority rush but in a good way. BlogHer was a blast. One that I was proud to be able to participate in and felt honored to be recognized as I'm not big fish. I think a good time was had by many if not all and seeing both bloggy friends and real life ones makes the trip across country with stinky toddlers all worth it. When I met people like this fab girl who saved me from imminent meltdown in the scary glass elevator, this one , this one (who knew we suffered the same educational background.) and this one I felt happy and a bit more at home.

And who would have thought that one of the best parts for me was getting to meet Grover from Sesame Street!

I'll be back next year, ready for another Cheeseburger 09!

Greetings from that Rice a Roni Town

Am not dead. Though I swear by the dark circles heavily draping under my eyes I look it. No matter how many free makeovers I score it is not helping.

After a five hour plane ride seated, I kid you not, totally surrounded by toddlers I landed in this busy city by the bay. Seriously, that kid in Seat 14B needed a diaper change for about 90% of the flight and I thought I might just scoop her up myself and change her right there in the seat if her mother didn't finally do it. Geez! The stench of Cheerios hung heavily in the air as I made my way across the country to BlogHer. My shuttle driver felt that for some reason having two pregnant women on board meant he had to slam on the brakes at each stop versus just driving like a normal person.

I'm finding the whole BlogHer experience to be a positive one that I highly recommend. I've learned so much, felt inundated, pissy about not drinking (though I think H has had himself a fine time drinking at home without me. Grr.), and generally have met some of the most interesting, informative and fun people I could ever imagine.

I've geeked out enough the last two days that I'm good for a bit.

Crap! I forgot to pack my fat pants!

I'm headed to BlogHer tomorrow. It's my first time. Be gentle with me. I realized this morning amidst my cramming in other blogging stuff and figuring out what to pack that the last time I was in lovely and chilly San Fran I had to buy fat pants to board the plane.

That's right. You heard me. FAT PANTS. I think it deserves the all caps.

Never before had I gained weight like that so fast. Two weeks in S.F. eating at Mel's, on Bay Street, The Garlic Rose and more and all I came back with was a taste for fine food and an expanded waist line. I remember trying to squeeze into my jeans and having to head to the nearest Gap in horror as I bought a pair of men's drawstring cargo pants. I still own them too dammit and that was back in the year 2000. I use them as snow pants now so I can layer up.

This go round? It's a new type of fat pants complete with an elasticized waist of what feels like steel. Maternity pants. Yippie damn shippymacflippyshadippy. I keep reading all these posts about what to wear and pack for BlogHer and all I can think is, do maternity capris count? If I wear an extra pound of make up and mousse in my hair maybe it will distract others from the fact that my shoes no longer fit and I only wear flip flops now? As for keeping warm in the colder climes of NoCal (is that a word?) I have a light sweater. I possess my own furnace right now and am hardly cold. If anything I might shove someone for simply standing too close and sucking heat off me.

I'm nice I swear.

I smile sometimes too. Just ask these fine ladies.

Speaking of traveling, MPR is holding a giveaway of some handy dandy road trip products- Blink Smudge wipes, Prestone fuel cleaner and more! Go ahead - you know you want to enter!

What's in a Name?

Dash Two's arrival is a mere four months away and when I think of all the things we have yet to do I become positively dizzy. It's not just getting T.D. into a new room and washing old baby clothes and gear but also naming this kid. We are officially stumped. Sure, we have a list of possible monikers but as of yet, nothing is standing out or is yelling, "SOLD!"

I think part of the problem is when you name a kid you run into all sorts of comments and criticisms such as:

A. If it is a girl- many people will say, "That sounds like a stripper!"
B. "Your kid will get beat up with a name like that!"
C. "Poor kid's destined to be a dork now".
D. "Do you want your kid to be a psycho killer who murders you in your sleep?"
or
E. All of the above.

So while we have searched websites, books, films and family trees we are kind of at a loss right now. If we don't watch out our kid will end up with a name like Couch Manhattan or Tuberose Splenda. Hm... I wonder if I could get some Splenda cash for that last one.

In all seriousness, here are some of the possible name choices- feel free to weigh in with ideas and your own "precious" nuggets of wisdom/comments.

Addison Grace
Charlotte
Reese
Madeline (I can't help it, "and the smallest one was Madeline...")
Genevieve (say it with me, 'zhawn-vee-evuh')

And I'm spent. Seriously, last night after my third wake-up by a potty needing T.D. I just lay there reviewing names of characters from favorite novels. Somehow names like Suellen and Careen don't quite make the final cut and neither does Lily.

The New Thirty Day Challenge- Winner!!

After much deliberating I have chosen a winner for 'The New Thirty Day Challenge'. It wasn't easy either. You people are a creative and funny lot, expletives and all. I am happy to hear that this has inspired some of you to jump on the wagon with me too. With that being said, here is the winning entry-

Jacqueline from Atlanta wrote:
About two months ago I made a little sign for my desk.
It says:Use it up.Don't replace it.Keep it neat.First things first.
The use it up referred to my tendency to stockpile stuff, like your beauty products. If it's a really good sale (can you say, "Bath & Body Works Semi-Annual Clearance Sale?) I buy three!The don't replace it referred to not stockpiling junk anymore.Keep it neat was mainly for my desk.First things first means to do the important things in the day right off the bat and do the one chore you are dreading the most first and get it out of the way so you can enjoy the rest of the day.First things first also refers to long term planning, such as putting aside money for retirement or kids' college before buying doodles.Which is all a long-winded way of saying, "I feel your pain." (read that in a half-choked voice)Call it:SA: Shopaholics Anonymous - 30 Days on the Wagon that Isn't Headed to the Mall.

Congratulations Jacqueline!!! Email me (veamason AT gmail DOT com) soon so I can get in touch with you!! You'll be receiving the surprise pack of products shortly. It will be mailed before I leave for BlogHer on Thursday, I swear!

You can read more about the SA- The 30 day challenge over at this site too- I'm updating it frequently with my progress and hope you'll join me in climbing on the wagon that isn't going to the mall. Easier said than done, I know.

A new review of Hanes Kidswear is going up today at MPR. Check it out- I'm giving away a whole outfit, plus more free stuff to one lucky winner.

Come on in! The waters great!

So, um... we all know that kids who are potty training can fall in the toilet right?

And I pretty much thought that H was trained to leave the seat down and all...

Then I got home, from a rather late girls night excursion and do I need to say anymore?

My "electric white ass" as H calls it, fell right in. If the bathroom counter did not exist in such close approximation to the toilet I'm not sure I would have ever found my way out.



Head over to MPR today. I'm featuring Flaky Friends by Sarah from Hollywood Flakes. If anything you need to see the stuffed rabbit with the hook for a hand. She's offering 20% off for all TMC and MPR readers and an additional $5 off until the end of the July. Hurry! They go fast!


Keep those contest entries coming in for the Thirty Day Challenge- you have until Sunday! I've done an update on my progress here.

The Force is Strong in This One

Yes, I just quoted Darth Vader. Shut it. I happened to want to be Darth Vader as a kid. Princess Leia held no sway with me.

Ever since we got back from our vacation I've noticed something. I'm in full-on nesting mode and it's months early. I don't even remember having any of this with T.D. Sure, I was organized but to this capacity? No way.

First, I felt the house needed to be cleaned. I vacuumed, dusted and scrubbed. Mirrors were cleaned. Bathrooms were shined up and floors were mopped. I febreezed every fabric in sight. I did laundry and organized the hall closet. I should have felt content.

But, on no... not this woman. Hauling around the extra weight I've gained I felt compelled to go through and organize all of T.D.'s toys and her closet and draws. ALL OF THEM in the WHOLE house. In ONE day. As if I weren't crazy enough I further propelled by burgeoning belly into the crawl space/storage area of our house. Crawling through its Alice in Wonderland door into its unair-conditioned space I hauled out every bag of baby clothes I could find.

All five of them. And I was miffed there were not more. Apparently, those newborn clothes are all at Nana's waiting for the sorting fairy to go through them. Next up, is either paint some furniture for T.D.'s room or organize the old baby gear and figure out what exactly we have. Or, and just thinking about it makes me almost dizzy with nesting excitement, I could tackle all the old baby toys and go through them.

Yup, I'm a little insane. I figure if I can't buy anything for this kid I may as well get what we have all spiffed up and feel productive.

The force is indeed strong in this one.


Check out my latest review with PBN. I took the Savvy quiz on the left and was amazed. You will be too.

The New Thirty Day Challenge

As you all know, H was laid off last month and I the lowly, if ever paid writer am feeling the pinch. Every time I consider buying something I am consumed with guilt. But hey, at least our pantry isn't so full of crap anymore and I only bought one pack of cookies for my pregnant belly to consume this week. Less consuming has become even more of a theme in our house these days.

All that being said I've decided to institute a thirty day challenge upon myself. Being the product junkie that I am, I have a hard time resisting organic, green or other earth friendly products at the new Wegmans nearby or even Drugstore.com. I'm just silly for clickable nail polish, aromatherapy candles, body lotions of all degrees and hair removing products. It is a disease people. An addiction. Neiman Marcus holds their bi-annual beauty events for me alone. Then you add in the fact that under every sink in my house there is a wealth of products half-used or barely opened I really do not need to shop.

So here it is- For the next thirty days I will not buy anything. I will make use of what I have. This will be particularly hard when I have to travel to BlogHer next week and won't get to buy any tiny toiletries for my bag, but it should be worth it for a couple of reasons.

1. Less buying and consuming equals less waste.

2. I'll finally be wading through the four million deodorants, numerous bottles of sunblock, body lotion, facial cleanser and shampoo I have lurking in my bathroom. Come to think of it thirty days might not be enough time!

3. It will help us save money. I'm even instituting the rule on T.D. who has so much detangler in the house and baby lotion that I'm quite sure I'm good for even Dash Two.

There it is- for the next thirty days this product whore will rely only on what she has. No new stuff unless it is free stuff for a review. You think I am kidding, but you have no idea how much I love trolling the Internet, local Tarzhay or CVS for undiscovered products. I am like the Christopher Columbus of product scouting. PR agents and companies have only scratched the surface of my avarice and greed.

Heaven help us all when the four million deodorant nubs all run out.


If you want to help me name this Thirty Day Challenge I'll be willing to part with a surprise box of products - just comment here and leave me a way to get in touch with you if you are the winnah! Deadline is Sunday, July 13.

At Least Someone is Working

Hello from the unemployed front! We are in week two of all being under the same roof all the time. And while H has turned his job search into a full time job and I'm plugging away at all my little unpaid, ahem! someone throw me a bone here!, gigs we are for all intensive purposes a dual no-income household. Kick ass.

Except T.D.

She is apparently working. All the time. Whenever I ask her what she is doing, be it playing with Play-Doh or helping me sort laundry she tells me, "I'm working Mama! I'm working!" I don't have the heart to tell her we can't pay her for her services.

She thinks we are working too. Yesterday morning as I cleaned the shower she came over and inspected my workmanship, hands on hips and intoned, "Mama working. Mama is working..." Funny, I thought when I quit that motel maid job (apparently the place hasn't been cleaned since I worked there.) back in 1995 my days of being paid jack for scrubbing bathrooms was over.

Good-bye Afternoon Naps

Oh, look- I'm home again. Jiggity Jig. After an uneventful car ride, seriously- I take back all I said about DVD players in cars for kids- that thing is a life-saver in the "WHAT?! We are not going back to Mem & Pep's house?!" meltdown moment that little portable player was a miracle worker- we arrived home safe and sound mid-day yesterday.

Some things I noticed-

I am back to eating fruit as a snack in under six hours. For some reason my parents house is a vortex for carb consuming. All I do is eat thigh thickening chips, ass-spreading brownies and more while I am there. I ingest fried foods as if I'm on shore leave and it cannot be stopped. Sure, I fall into many mid-morning and mid-afternoon, aw hell, mid-evening stupors more often than I care to admit, but I am powerless to stop it. The fruit bowl remains intact the entire time we visit save for those moments where I gorge myself on cherries or something.

I didn't walk at all or exercise at all while there. I guess that is truly a vacation?

Juice really is crack for toddlers and when Mem & Pep serve it at breakfast? Well, let's just say T.D. is already suffering from withdrawal.

My parents are obsessed with the turkey that comes into their yard each day at precisely four o'clock. Now T.D. is too. She has deemed the patch of dirt in their yard where it dusts itself as, "turkey dirt."

No matter what state you are in or what time of day it is McDonald's sucks my ass. They cannot get an order right for the life of them. Sure, give me two milks instead of one. Forget my apple slices and give my kid the fries. I care nothing about my sodium content clearly. And why are all the rest stops on 95 ALL THE SAME?! If I passed you up once Roy Rogers I am sure as hell going to pass you up again.

Jordan Marsh (or should I call them Jordin Mahsh) blueberry muffins do exsist. And they ROCK!

Things that NEVER Change-

Despite having Alzheimer's and being in her late 80's my grandmother still managed to tell me that T.D. was going to "poke her eye out" with her plastic fork at the family cook out. Like clockwork every year.

The top 40 radio station I listened to as a tween and teen is STILL the same. Truly, New Englanders resist change like a cats to water.

I will never stop laughing when I hear the announcements on the intercom at the local town beach, "Ahtenchun awl beach patrons, due to the instense fohg, please only go in the watah up to ya knees." I am usually the only one laughing.

My father now has an outdoor and indoor (they work in tandem) weather device. At any given time throughout the day he announces the wind velocity, precipitation level and current temp at the front and back of their house. It fascinates him.

My mother is queen of bussing. She hovers and cannot wait to bus your glass, plate or dish. She will even butter your english muffin without asking. I am still twelve and she still tells me how to work everything in the kitchen as if I might blow it up or set it on fire at any given time.

And now... it's back to the real world. Excuse me while I nurse my plants back to health, return emails, actually try and do some work and learn to live without the scent of the ocean, Del's lemonade, afternoon naps and reading on a front porch. Le Sigh... I miss it all already. Even the bussing.

Scenes from a Getaway

Hey look! It's a pregnant lady eating ice cream. Go figure.

Gratuitous beach/cute kid shot.

Now that is a clamcake! Or fritter if you are like not from South County Rhode Island and want to be a weirdo or something. This is in no way a crab cake. It's all fried dough goodness. At last count I consumed about ten of them. Check out the classic scenic wood paneling on the walls. This place hasn't changed since the 1950s. My parents went on dates here and now T.D. climbs into her favorite chair like she's a regular. It does not get any better than that.

Overheards

Scene: Guestroom at my parents house. H & I have become incredibly lazy taking long afternoon naps in the summer heat. We have holed ourselves up in this room like teenagers with paperbacks, wi-fi, drinks and snacks. The dog doesn't even enter this domain.

H: I'm thirsty. Go downstairs and get me water.

Me: Um... I'm thirsty too. I'm pregnant and dehydrated....

H: Ha! Get to it little woman!

Me: I'm on vacation!

H: Moms, don't get a vacation and your womanly duties are seriously lacking lately. You should be vacuuming and ironing my shirts or something...

Five minutes later, I have my water.


I'm not even going to discuss the amount of clamcakes I've consumed in the last few days and how yes, Mr.X they do exist. They are not and never will be RI crab cakes. Just ewww.