Saturday, June 28, 2008

Do not hate me because I don't get Twitter...

I would like to preface this post by saying that the following is only my opinion. Please feel free to pour the margaritas, and rim the glasses liberally with salt before continuing to read....

I just don't get IT. Twitter. All the rage! Is it just me? Maybe it's an age thing. Somehow at the deliciously ripe age of 46, dipping into Twitter would make me feel well... kind of like a middle-aged woman wearing clothes designed for a 20 year old. Or having a thong leaking out of my pants. You can be sexy in your 40's without dressing as if...

Let's just say it...I'd feel like a TWIT. Just in case you didn't know, a twit is a foolishly annoying person. And I don't believe that is the intention. If you use Twitter, you're cool, hip and cutting edge. Well, I'm not sure I want to be cutting edge. I just don't want to be plugged in at all hours of the day and night. I have a cell phone. I blog. I spend hours time on the internet. I have a land line telephone and I email throughout the day. And really, my innermost thoughts are just not all that interesting. When I do get what I think is a juicy little thought, I save it for my blog posts. And there you have it...

Do not hate me because I don't get Twitter... I think I'd rather keep the illusion going on in my head that I'm hip, cool and with IT without Twitter. It's a fragile illusion and at 46 you've got to hold on tight to your fishnets.

** Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss picture courtesy of Google Images

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Friday, June 27, 2008

The Hot Tip List for Managing the BlogHer 2008 Conference

BlogHer 08 150x150

I've been reading advice on how to prepare for the upcoming conference in San Francisco. Let's see if I remember everything...

If I buy a lap top before the BlogHer Conference 2008 in San Francisco then I must remember to bring a lap top.

If I bring a lap top then I will need a roller bag to carry it and all the cool swag that's available. Or I will leave the lap top in my room...

If I don't have a lap top, that's OK. There will be other lamesters there with me.

I need to bring an extra suitcase just for all the SWAG. And it is good stuff.

I will talk to anyone who has legs and if they look like a blogger, they probably are.

I will talk to more than 1 person. I will talk to at least 10. I will, at some point, stop talking.

I will wear comfortable shoes. This is life or death. Bring band aids just in case I don't listen to this sage advice and need to provide for myself or others. Wardrobe is up to me, but definitely bring a sweater or light jacket. I can probably leave the fishnets at home.

A message board would be great!

Cards, cards and more cards. Bring your cards. Be sure and have a pocket for them and a separate pocket for everyone else's cards that you will collect.

Great shopping in the area. Within walking distance. Best to get credit limits extended on your credit cards.

Pre-conference parties and conference in the same hotel. Yeah! Friday & Saturday night parties across the street! Pace yourself.

Be able to utter a one line description of my blog. Yeah...right. This will be my hardest challenge...Chatty Cathy here.

Never, but NEVER say you have JUST a personal blog or never, but NEVER say the word "JUST." Unless you have to go to your room for a breather, in which case you can say "You'll have to excuse me, JUST for a minute. I'll be right back." Then you can go back to your room and collapse - hopefully on a soft bed that cradles your curves.

Eat!! By GOD, eating is important. And you will be with WOMEN. And women LIKE TO EAT.

Ear plugs might be a good thing.

Don't take vacant or scowling looks personally, the person is probably not directing it at you.

Everyone is NICE at BlogHer. That IS what it's about!

Parking is crazy expensive. So is gas. Carpool if you can.

And...try to plan a light schedule for the day or two after BlogHer because you will be tired. Probably not as tired as my husband will be watching our 3 and 4 year old by himself for 3 days...

Yep, that about covers it. Anything else to add?

Added Note: Hug Flutter and come hear her speak!

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Thursday, June 26, 2008

Summertime and the hair is easy...

Nothing like a summer haircut, a little Ella Fitzgerald, and a good bourbon whiskey to finish off a summer day...

Thank you, God, for a wonderful meal.
Thank you for Daddy and Mommy and GIRL.
I like my new haircut.
And I love you so much.
I had a good time today.
And I like to say Amen.

Amen. So be it...

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Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Capitalism, it's the new Black... for Preschoolers.

We've recently begun a new system. It's called The Point System Challenge. Both BOY & GIRL have the ability to earn points for good behavior and when they accrue 30 points they get to pick out a small prize at the toy store. Capitalism is all the rage here at Casa de Motherscribe. Yes, the system is working and my children are fast becoming Venture Capitalists. Like Wall Street we have good days and bad days. The Motherscribe Industrial Marketplace plunged 10 points this morning....This afternoon the market climbed 10 points to finish with 18 marbles in the container. It's all about marbles and plastic containers. BOY is now going to bed by himself most nights and sleeping through the night without puttering into our bedroom some of the time. This is MAJOR NEWS. The Marketplace is rallying! And...yes, it speaks to my brilliance, if I may brag. After all, tomorrow is another day and the victory will be long gone. So, let me smirk for a day. A little ingenuity, a few marbles and recyclable plastic containers make our world go round.

BOY was always the perfect sleeper. As a baby he took 2 naps, later 1 nap, and always slept through the night after he was 6 months old. Several months ago, BOY started "needing" us to sit/lay down/fall asleep with him at bedtime. In the beginning he was legitimately scared, and I realize that this is a very common developmental stage, but after a few months it became a routine and BOY was no longer truly scared. We tried a night light. "Mommy, what are those SCARY shadows?!" We tried threatening jail time. That didn't work. Yes, I am kidding. Kind of. I got to my breaking point a couple of weeks ago. On average I was spending 30-45 minutes with him in his room at night. I was feeling angry, resentful and mad at him when I was really angry with myself for creating this mess. I am the parent after all. Just WHO is in charge here? Apparently, for a while, him!

So we have come up with The Point System Challenge...

Challenge #1 is for BOY to stay in his bed. We tuck him in, chat for a few minutes, give hugs and kisses and leave the room. He is not to get up and come out of his room or call for us to come back into his room. He is to go to sleep.

Challenge # 2 is for BOY to sleep through the night without appearing as The BOY who is SCARED in our room at 2, 3 or 4am. Yes, it has sometimes been 3 times a night and yes, we have been sleep deprived for months. In the last couple of months he's been getting up just once a night for the most part. Sometimes twice. So, the goal is for him to sleep through the night. At 4 1/2 years old! What a concept!!

BOY can earn 5 points for staying in his room at bedtime. If he comes out once, he loses 2 points and just earns 3 points. If he comes out twice, he doesn't earn any points or ZERO points. BOY can earn 5 points if he sleeps through the night. If he wakes up once and comes into our room, he loses 2 points. If he comes into our room more than once he earns ZERO points. We've been doing The Point System Challenge for almost 2 weeks now and it is working really well. The goal is to earn 10 points per night. Some nights he earns 10, more nights he earns 6-8 points, and sometimes ZERO points.

Not to miss out on anything, GIRL wanted in on the action. She is Market Savvy and saw the payoff prize or the end result - 30 points = pick out a toy. She's no novice on the Motherscribe Industrial Marketplace Express. So, we came up with two challenges for GIRL. All things being equal...right.

Challenge #1: If GIRL goes to bed without objections she can earn 5 points. If she starts to make a protest and then readjusts her attitude quickly and goes to bed, she loses 2 points for bad attitude, but earns 3 points for self-correcting it. If she raises a stink, she earns ZERO points.

Challenge #2: GIRL must get up and get dressed right away in the morning. No dilly dallying. If she succeeds, she earns 5 points. If she protests initially, but then turns it around, she can earn 3 points. If she refuses to comply, she gets ZERO points and we all can order pizza for breakfast and kick back because it is going to be a long ass road to dressdom and you better pack earplugs.

If you are still reading along and your head isn't spinning with numerals, please say...Thank you for that math lesson, JCK.

So far The Point System Challenge appears to be working overall. Once the 30 points are earned, we go back to ZERO and start the challenge again. We use colored marbles for the points and their favorite part of the "game" is counting out the marbles that they've earned. It helps to have them do it together so that they are also aware of the other person's point total. Encouraging sibling rivalry and all... Competition in the home place! Whoop! Whoop!

Last week BOY achieved 30 marbles and he got to pick out a toy. And Saturday, with her 30 points, it was GIRL's day to pick something out.'s the new Preschoolers Black. Hopefully we won't be in the red soon with additional purchases. A few marbles and a couple of plastic containers. Who knew?

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Monday, June 23, 2008

We regret we are unable to publish it...

I received my first rejection letter today! It seems I am now a real writer. I think I am going to create a wall/bulletin board in our office with the rejection letters/notes.

It actually is a stretch to call it a letter. Apparently, even a rejection letter is too much work for publishers today. It is a slip of paper measuring about 2 x 4" - thrust into my self-addressed, stamped envelope and sent on its way back home. This particular slip of paper thanks me for submitting my manuscript. Whoa Nelly! Manuscript? A mere 3 poems? Why thank you, but you really DO go on!

I'm ready to submit to the next one. Perhaps I'll get a real letter next time. All I know is that if I hadn't submitted my poems for consideration I wouldn't have gotten the rejection letter. And it feels damn good. I'm actually taking my writing seriously and flailing in the wind, but at least I'm flailing!


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Sunday, June 22, 2008

The Parent Tea Party

Last Friday was the annual Parent Tea Party for BOY's Pre-K class. All the children had been excited about it for days. The week of the tea party they were hard at work making gifts for the parents and baking goodies. Finally the day arrived. E and I got there 10 minutes early and waited with other parents while the children who wanted to changed into their tea party clothes. BOY had picked out his favorite shirt to wear for the big day. And then the doors opened to the large hall and each child's parent made their way to the door where upon arrival their child would rush forward, present them with a wrist corsage and boutonniere made out of paper flowers and escort them to their chairs in the circle. As E and I made our way to the doorway, the head teacher called BOY's name, and called BOY's name, I peeked around the corner I could see that he was chatting up a set of parents next to him as he waited for us. Finally he heard the teacher call his name and he looked up and screamed, MOMMY! DADDY! and made a mad dash for us. After throwing his arms around us and presenting us with our flowers, he took us to our seats. And so it went until all the parents were seated with their children.

First the teacher thanked all of us for coming and then read a delightful story "to calm the children down a bit" called I Ain't Gonna Paint No More! It was clear that the children had read this together many, many times before as they chanted along with the story and shouted with laughter at the end when the little girl decides to paint her BUTT!

Then all the kids went running back to their parents to ready themselves for their songs. Each child stood in front of their parents and all together sang a song to them accompanied by signing gestures. It was adorable. Then BOY sang a song to E and then one to me. It was incredibly sweet, especially when he kept looking at the little boy next to him and you could tell that he was making sure he was doing the right gestures.

After the songs, each child led their parents to their seats at the table for the tea party. BOY had made a place mat for me, for E and for himself. And we each had a wrapped gift at our place. BOY wanted us to unwrap the gifts immediately, but I had to check to see what the other parents were doing and they weren't opening them yet. I guess grown-ups have to check to make sure they're also doing the right gestures.

Then the teacher walked from table to table letting the children know that it was time to serve their parents. It was hard for BOY to wait. He wanted to go NOW. At first I thought he just wanted to go fill up a plate for himself, which would have been perfectly understandable considering the goodies. But, BOY went over to the buffet table, got a plate and brought me back a blueberry muffin, a chocolate chip cookie, a brownie and a chocolate dipped strawberry. How did he know? He knows. Then he did the same thing for E, although Daddy got double portions which didn't seem quite fair. Then he went and got us drinks. He served me lemonade, because I was that "lucky." E got iced tea. And finally he went and got a plate for himself. A teacher helped him by carrying his cup of lucky lemonade so that he could focus on carrying just his plate.

After eating our delicious delicacies that the children had baked themselves, we opened our gifts. BOY had decorated a small flower pot for me and E received this cool cube with 3 pictures of BOY on it in varying poses and facial expressions. It was adorable.

Then we got up to walk around, chat with other parents, and look at the drawings on the walls that the children had done. The theme was: What does Mommy do all day? & What does Daddy do all day? BOY's answers were pretty accurate. Daddy builds houses and Mommy works on the computer. The most popular answer for what the mommy does all day was working on the computer. But, the best ones were "My mommy counts the money, My daddy makes all the money, My daddy sleeps all day, and My Mommy washes dishes all day." Probably lucky that the Mommy who counts the money and the Daddy who makes all the money were not in the same couple. Or maybe worse if the Daddy who sleeps all day is with the Mommy who counts the money.

As we walked out together I thought back over the last few months, the struggles that BOY had in February and how he has grown. I am so glad that we decided to see things through. We are blessed in this school and BOY is happy.

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Saturday, June 21, 2008

In which she appears to be judgemental and she is

I saw two things today within a matter of minutes that set me off my rocker. Let's just rant about the fact that a certain look for men and boys in our society at present is a look that I don't care to see. It's blazing hot outside, my car says 104 degrees. The man has his shirt off, tied around his waist. Nothing wrong with that. Except that he shouldn't be the one doing it. And his jeans are down past his ass with his boxers hanging out. Something wrong with that.

Hey buddy, if you want to wear your jeans that far down your ass, why bother? Just take the jeans off and wear your boxers for God's sake. What's the friggin' point?!

I hope there isn't a fire. If he tried to run he'd trip over his jeans.

This is one of the many reasons WHY everyone in the rest of the WORLD makes fun of us. Sometimes it is embarrassing to be an American. And a mom. Because when you have BOY & GIRL along... you know there is this:

Mommy, why is that man's pants falling down?

Mommy, does he have an emergency?

Isn't a mother's job hard enough without explaining THAT?!

And then I turn the corner and there's filming going on in our neighborhood, and some idiot is riding up the street on a motorized scooter with a walkie-talkie. Why is it that the people you see on these motorized scooters have a big ol' paunch and should be the last person on a motorized scooter. And it wasn't that he had any kind of disability. I saw him get off and back on. Right after he nearly collided with my minivan.

Hey Mr. Oh So Important! Get off the freakin' scooter, Mister, and get some exercise!

I guess that's it. In which she appears to be judgemental and she is.

Note: If JCK appears to be CRANKY today it is due to temperatures exceeding 108, and the belief that she is fermenting due to an overabundance of manure surrounding her house. And lack of chocolate to deal with said hardship.

**Photo Credit: Google Images. And the guy's ass in OUR neighborhood? Was NOT that good.

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Thursday, June 19, 2008

The grass is not always greener

He did it very smoothly, letting me know that he was going to go out and grab some soil for the backyard project - the project that has been months in the making and that never seems to end. The elusive, the mighty, "Let's Plant Grass in a Desert Climate" Project. The insurmountable project that E has determined will not defeat him. The "Let's Plant Grass in a Desert Climate" Project that just keeps on from our "Fix up our Master Bedroom and turn it into a sumptuous, sexy den of ....LUST" Project. Of course, I haven't told him what project he's missing out on. I'm withholding like that.

And so he took the van and went to pick up the soil. "Soil", by God! That is how he described it. What he failed to inform me was that he was going to pick up that incredibly fragrant Organic Cow Manure soil. Yes, THAT stuff. In a minivan. In 103 degree heat. A perfect storm of heat and cow turds. And don't let the Organic label fool you. Organic cow shit stinks, too. The other piece of this is that my husband owns a pick-up truck. A. Pick-up. Truck. Yes. A vehicle that some people use for PICKING THINGS UP. Hence the name - Pick-up. You would think that a pick-up truck might, just possibly, appear to be a better choice for picking up such fragrant materials? But, NO.... the pick-up truck is too full of tools and the minivan is just SO available. So the 2004 model minivan is being treated kind of like "the old, washed-up" wife and the 2000 Model pick-up truck is, apparently, The Mistress. That's the bottom line. No, the bottom line is that the smell will now be with the van for days. Days.

Just a sample of the torture that is known as our ...PRESENT LIFE or riding in our minivan:

BOY: EEWWW...YUCK! What is THAT smell?????

ME: It's cow manure, BOY.

BOY: Why? [Why what?? Why in a minivan, PERHAPS? Why did Daddy do this TO US?]

ME: Because your daddy filled the van up with cow manure. [Slighty passive-aggressive Mommy is mad at Daddy voice.]

GIRL: Well, it REALLY SMELLS! I'm going to plug my nose!

E: It's your mommy's FAVORITE smell! HAHAHA
[If the children hadn't been present and I hadn't been strapped into my seatbelt he would be a dead man. And... I was prevented from answering due to the strange sensation of my nostril hairs melting out.]

Yes, my husband is tormenting me. Torture by cow manure. He released "the soil" onto the backyard. And... the smell has now permeated the outside walls of the house, entered the living room, and now... is WAFTING into the office - is nothing fucking sacred, by GOD?! He's been working his ass off spreading the stuff in the back yard, dreaming of his "Let's Plant Grass in a Desert Climate" Project. It will never happen. Never. Trust me. How do I know this? I have two small children under 5 who believe in digging in dirt, chucking dirt, and basically dislodging well intentioned grass seed. And there's the small matter of LIVING IN A DESERT CLIMATE. Oh well... This is ONLY the 2nd or 3rd or 4th time said husband has tried to get the grass to grow. I'm not sure I've got the stomach for a 5th round. I'm all boxed out.

Dear E,

Honey, the perfect backyard lawn isn't coming in. The grass is not always greener and sexual relations are better without eau du cow CA CA. It's too bad, too, because when you bent over the wheelbarrow it was absolutely delightful. I almost reached for the fishnets...but, then I was ASSAULTED by the SMELL of Cow Dung and thoughts of romping through the bedsheets have well... just gone. POOF! Obliterated. If ever there was a smell that would ensure never having sex again, this would be it. Perhaps there's hope in this lifetime 24 hours... Hope that I'll still be here. With fishnets wrapped around my nose...


Your loving wife with blown out olfactory organs

**Picture credit: Google Images

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My Interview on Derfwad Manor

The lovely and incredibly HILARIOUS Mrs. G from Derfwad Manor has interviewed me for today's Slow Cook Thursday. Once you find Mrs. G's blog, there is NO going back. You're done in. Addicted. HAVE TO HAVE MORE. She's the best! Thank YOU, Mrs. G!

So, I'm going to kick back today... listen to GIRL's screeching tantrums read some blogs, savor my heavily creamed & sugared Irish tea surely it's time for JackO'Clock!!...alas, no, it's 10am, take a nap keep BOY from "exploring" the new grill... WHERE IS THAT CHOCOLATE??!! and dream of cooler days. It's 104 here today!

If you're new to Motherscribe, welcome! Pull up a chair and sit awhile.

MMMMmmmmm....this chocolate is delicious, don't you think?

It's great to have you here!

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Wednesday, June 18, 2008

GIRL draws Mommy

On Monday GIRL presented me with a card that she had made.

Mommy, Mommy! Guess what! I made a card for you. Here it is! Look, Mommy! Here is your name.

This is rocks and grass.
I wrote you a letter! This says...this says...this says!!

Love, Mom.

I love you, Mommy.

I really love you, Mommy.

Love, Mommy.

I love you and love you and love you.


This is a picture of you!

This is you, Mommy. This is your hair. Your eyes. Your nose. Your belly button. And this is your private parts.

In which we take a brief PAUSE..............

Oh, dear GOD, what is she saying at school?!

**Picture courtesy of Google images

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Monday, June 16, 2008

What you fail to comprehend is that women vote for the issues that are important to them.

Dear Los Angeles Times:

It seems that you have come up with a real "scoop" judging from today's headline:

Women lining up behind Obama

Apparently, this is BIG NEWS to you. I have one word for you since your "vision" appears to be impaired.


I assume this is language that you will understand. What you fail to comprehend is that women vote for the issues that are important to them. Those of us who voted for Hillary Clinton can mourn the loss of her candidacy and move on. We will now embrace Barack Obama, because he supports and stands for the issues that we believe in. We will not vote for John McCain out of spite or leave a bloody, dead rabbit boiling in Barack Obama's kitchen. No, in this particular article you did not compare women voters to the Glenn Close character in the movie "Fatal Attraction," but that is surely the underlying message. How about if we leave fiction writing to the professionals?

"And Obama has taken a wide lead among female voters, belying months of political chatter and polls of primary voters suggesting that disappointment over Clinton's defeat might block the Illinois senator from enjoying his party's historic edge among women."

Perhaps you should stop relying on "political chatter." Let's just look up the definition of chatter, shall we?

v. chat·tered, chat·ter·ing, chat·ters

1. To talk rapidly, incessantly, and on trivial subjects; jabber.
2. To utter a rapid series of short, inarticulate, speechlike sounds: birds chattering in the trees.
3. To click quickly and repeatedly: Our teeth chattered from the cold.
4. To vibrate or rattle while in operation: A power drill will chatter if the bit is loose.
To utter in a rapid, usually thoughtless way: chattered a long reply.

1. Idle, trivial talk.
2. Communication, such as e-mail and cell phone calls, between people involved in terrorism and espionage as monitored by a government agency.

Oh, and LOOK! at #2 under the noun definition. It appears that chatter could be between people involved in terrorism and espionage as monitored by a government agency. Wow! There's your scoop! Have at it.


A Keyboard Wielding Democratic Woman Voter

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Sunday, June 15, 2008

A book meme

I have just been tagged by Tootsie Farklepants with a book meme. She likes to torture me. Thank GOD it is simple. Because....well, it is Father's Day and I am worn out. The morning was lovely with an amazing church service and breakfast out with two children exhibiting excellent manners. Truly stunning! I guess the hot chocolate and pancakes with syrup helped a bit. Later, trying to keep the same two small children from using their father as a bounce house ...especially when the father in question was trying to watch...shhhhh...the sacred, the holy ...the mighty game of GOLF! YAWN...YAWN.. But, hey, it's Father's Day and all dads should be so indulged. Love ya, baby! We all survived and now I am going to tackle this book meme.

The rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

Small dimensional changes either way will alter the final size dramatically.

I first experimented with 1 1/2"-wide boards for the clock ring, but found it wasn't deep enough for the clock hardware I used. Once again, I suggest purchasing the hardware before cutting, to be sure the interior depth is suitable.

Now what exactly is this book you ask? Some mechanical sex manual by my bedside? True, depth is mentioned multiple times, but a "clock ring" should not be confused with that other C ring. No...these inspiring and stimulating sentences come from the book "The Pocket Hole Drilling Jig Project Book"by Danny Proulx.

My husband and I share...much. Including a desk. His book was the closest! Somehow seems apropos on Father's Day.

Happy Father's Day to you and yours!

And I tag you wild and wooly women with this same book meme:

Rants & Raves

The Reluctant Blogger

Um...try to keep it clean, ladies.

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Saturday, June 14, 2008

Floating is so quiet

I've been doing Mommy & Me swimming lessons with GIRL on Saturday mornings. Today was a banner day! She made great leaps. I lightly held her and she floated on her back, her hair fanning out around her, a huge smile on her face...Then she popped up and said, "floating is so quiet" and lay back down again to take her quiet space in the water. She connected with that ... that weightlessness, that quiet. That soft hum of sounds you hear underwater, perhaps not unlike the womb.

GIRL practiced kicking, blowing bubbles and arm strokes. She dunked her head up to her hairline reaching for dropped toys on the shallow bottom. All with a smile the size of TRIUMPH plastered across her face. Her elation in her own doing was contagious.

When I was pregnant with GIRL I went to this same YMCA in my last trimester, going 3 times a week. It was a prenatal water aerobics class and it was heavenly. The beauty of the water is its ability to make you feel incredibly light in weight and in mood. I had an easy pregnancy, in spite of or because of being 42, but like anyone else by the 8th month was feeling heavy and cumbersome. So, the prenatal aerobics class was a lifesaver. Getting out of the water was always a trip. Walking up steps, ever so slowly, yet feeling as if ...suddenly someone threw a bowling ball at you and you caught it. Permanently. Oh...the heaviness.

I'm not sure what it was today, but as the minutes flew by one tumbling after the other, I felt a vibrant, ecstatic connection with my beautiful daughter and the water. Maybe it was a body memory of when we once floated and moved as one. Or maybe it was just a little note from GOD letting me know that these small moments, these stepping stones, are something you never want to miss. Whatever it was...I heard the message.


ME: Let me look at these tiny little freckles on your nose.

GIRL: I like them! They're pretty.

ME: Yes, they are. They're beautiful. You have them like your Daddy.

GIRL: They're from the sun. We should thank the sun. Thank you, Sun, for my beautiful freckles!

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Friday, June 13, 2008

Conversations with BOY

As we drive by a neighborhood construction site...

BOY: I think GIRL will be a Master of Construction.

ME: A Master of Construction?

BOY: Yes.

ME: What made you think of that, BOY? Why do you think GIRL will be a Master of Construction?

BOY: That's what my mind is telling me.


BOY: Mom, I have to tell you something. It's bad news.

ME: What is it?

BOY: Um.... I don't remember.

[Perhaps he doesn't remember that he has launched his rocket up on the roof again. Or that he's used the dog's water bowl as a foot bath for mud covered feet. Or that he's used the screwdriver and unhinged the back of a chair again.]


BOY wakes up every morning with his hair sticking up all over the back of his head. Think Alfalfa from the Little Rascals. He has several cowlicks and very thick blonde hair.

BOY: Mooom, I've GOT to do something!

ME: BOY, let's put some water on it. [In which we attempt to get the hair to stay down.]

That doesn't work.

BOY: Oh, man....

ME: BOY, let's try some hairspray.

BOY: I hate that stuff! [After attempting the hairspray.]

That doesn't work.

I try brushing it and swooping it off to the side.

BOY: Oh, good LAWD! OH...JESUS!

ME: BOY, we don't say that.

BOY: Mom, it looks RIDICULOUS!

ME: BOY, let's just put you in the shower...

* Picture courtesy of Google Images.

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Thursday, June 12, 2008

Well, THAT caught my eye!

I'm a friggin' disaster this evening. I am tired, done in, wiped out, TOAST. Dealing with a 4 1/2 year old BOY who does not want to go to bed. He is finally asleep, but not without about 10 minutes worth of shouting: MOMMY ...I SEE YOU!!! issuing forth from the window behind me as he looked from his window into this office and saw me on the computer. MOMMY I SEEEEEEEE......YOOOOOUUUUU!! There is nothing, nothing that makes me more infuriated with my children than when it is evening and they fight going to bed. This is MY time. I'd like to have a little space to call my own, thank you VERY MUCH. It makes me BEYOND insane. MOMMY I SEEE.... YOU!!!!


My junk mail folder is continuing to collect, well...junk, and as my eyes skimmed the subject line tonight, I could swear that I read: Secure Vagina. Well, THAT caught my eye! I mean who doesn't want a secure vagina, right? Certainly better than an insecure vagina. And even though I would say I feel pretty secure in that area, you always want to know that everything, every. body. part. is secure. God forbid if my vital parts are not secure. I never leave the house without knowing that my drawbridge is fortified. Secured, baby! Never, never insecure. And then, my brain cells shifted into intelligence and I saw that the subject line said SECURE VIAGRA. Oh.....

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Wednesday, June 11, 2008

The summertime vibe is in the air

It's party time at BOY & GIRL's school. The summertime vibe is in the air! Last week, GIRL's class threw a pizza party to celebrate the fact that everyone is now in underwear. Potty training is over!! GIRL has been potty trained for a while, but she was happily reporting on who is now in underwear. Such a thrill! I believe the teachers were most excited of all. It was on Thursday, which is not a regular school day for GIRL, but she was able to come just for the party. When I dropped her off, the room was decorated floor to ceiling with balloons and streamers. All the children had participated. BOY was ecstatic because GIRL's classroom invited his class to join them in the celebration. The kids were proud, milestones were recognized, and all tummys were satisfied.

This Friday at 4pm, BOY's class is having a tea party for the parents. All the children in his class are over the moon excited about having us come. They start baking goodies today and apparently will have little gifts for us. It promises to be a delightful afternoon for one and all. As you know, I'm always up for tea and goodies. Presents are just the icing. And if something goes awry, there is always JackO'Clock when one gets home.

BOY is almost unrecognizable in his growth over the last couple of months. For the last few weeks at school, he's been working on memorizing my cell phone number. To celebrate the children learning their phone numbers, a teacher called each child last night to say "goodnight" and congratulate them on learning their phone number. I thought that was genius! He's also done a full day at school the past two Fridays and says he would like "a full day EVERY DAY." We're doing once a week, probably for this month, and then we'll go up to 2 afternoons and keep it at that.
The summer program starts officially in July and is comparable to summer camp. It is all play focused, no more Pre-K curriculum, and BOY's VERY favorite daily activity...water play. The children get to wear their bathing suits to school and there is a week with a camping theme where they sleep in their sleeping bags during nap time. What's not to like?

And me? Well, I'm enjoying the fact that my thighs are hair-free, perhaps not pain-free, and that no one has mistaken me for a grandmother...lately. The small things. Life is good. And you have to grab the good days when you can.

** Photo: baby dolls all tucked in by GIRL

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Monday, June 9, 2008

Yes, Hillary, we are so proud

Watching Hillary Rodham Clinton's concession speech on Saturday was a very emotional experience for me. My feelings are complicated. First, there is the sadness that her campaign is now coming to a close in what has been a long campaign full of twists and turns. I voted for Hillary Clinton, because I felt she was the best candidate for the job. I LOVED voting for her because she is a woman. My emotional response is centered there, as I am woman and I have a daughter who will grow up to be a woman. While I sat with my husband in the living room, watching Hillary's rousing and gracious speech, with my 3 year old daughter perched at my side, I found tears coursing down my face. I felt so very connected to her words. Although she did not "win the race," she did win. She won a lot. She went further than any woman has gone before. She ran a race hoping to become the next President of the United States! Think about that for a minute. Savor the idea of a woman running our country. Savor it, because someday it will be a reality. And that will be a glorious day! In years to come, my daughter will look back on Hillary Rodham Clinton as a woman who changed history. Who didn't say: I can't do this because no woman has ever done it before. She believed she could do it. She felt she was the most qualified. And she just did it. With tremendous opposition, irrational hatred and sexism opposing her. And she just did it. That is how history is made.

As the camera panned the crowd, I saw Gloria Steinem. And I felt my blood sing imagining all the women who have gone before who helped make this day possible for Hillary Clinton. A path has been hacked through the jungle, and now it is our job to keep the path free of choking vines. If you have a daughter, hug her and tell her that with hard work, determination and belief in herself anything is possible. If you have a son, hug him and tell him how lucky he is to grow up in a world where woman are equal to men. Hug your sisters, hug your friends, and celebrate what being a woman means today, in June 2008. We live in exciting times. As Hillary Clinton said, we can be so proud that now "it will be unremarkable to have a woman as President of the United States." Yes, Hillary, we are so proud. And I feel confident that those suffragists who gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848 are proud, too. Thank you for your inspiration. Thank you for your guts and determination. Thank you for having a voice and for not being afraid to use it. Thank you for making me feel alive. And I can't wait to see what mountains you conquer next!

Below are my favorite moments from Hillary Rodham Clinton's speech. For the full speech go here.

" the moms and dads who came to our events, who lifted their little girls and little boys on their shoulders and whispered in their ears, See, you can be anything you want to be."

"We all want an America defined by deep and meaningful equality, from civil rights to labor rights, from women's rights to gay rights, from ending discrimination to promoting unionization, to providing help for the most important job there is: caring for our families. And we all want to restore America's standing in the world, to end the war in Iraq, and once again lead by the power of our values, and to join with our allies to confront our shared challenges, from poverty and genocide to terrorism and global warming."

" Now, on a personal note, when I was asked what it means to be a woman running for president, I always gave the same answer, that I was proud to be running as a woman, but I was running because I thought I'd be the best president.

But I am a woman and, like millions of women, I know there are still barriers and biases out there, often unconscious, and I want to build an America that respects and embraces the potential of every last one of us.

I ran as a daughter who benefited from opportunities my mother never dreamed of. I ran as a mother who worries about my daughter's future and a mother who wants to leave all children brighter tomorrows.

To build that future I see, we must make sure that women and men alike understand the struggles of their grandmothers and their mothers, and that women enjoy equal opportunities, equal pay, and equal respect.

Let us resolve and work toward achieving very simple propositions.

There are no acceptable limits, and there are no acceptable prejudices in the twenty first century in our country.

You can be so proud that, from now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories, unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the president of the United States. And that is truly remarkable, my friends."

To those who are disappointed that we couldn't go all of the way, especially the young people who put so much into this campaign, it would break my heart if, in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged any of you from pursuing yours.

Always aim high, work hard and care deeply about what you believe in. And, when you stumble, keep faith. And, when you're knocked down, get right back up and never listen to anyone who says you can't or shouldn't go on.

As we gather here today in this historic, magnificent building, the fiftieth woman to leave this Earth is orbiting overhead. If we can blast fifty women into space, we will someday launch a woman into the White House.

Although we weren't able to shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling this time, thanks to you, it's got about 18 million cracks in it - and the light is shining through like never before, filling us all with the hope and the sure knowledge that the path will be a little easier next time.

That has always been the history of progress in America.

Think of the suffragists who gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848 and those who kept fighting until women could cast their votes.

Think of the abolitionists who struggled and died to see the end of slavery. Think of the civil rights heroes and foot soldiers who marched, protested and risked their lives to bring about the end of segregation and Jim Crow.

Because of them, I grew up taking for granted that women could vote and, because of them, my daughter grew up taking for granted that children of all colors could go to school together.

Because of them, Barack Obama and I could wage a hard-fought campaign for the Democratic nomination. Because of them and because of you, children today will grow up taking for granted that an African-American or a woman can, yes, become the president of the United States.

And so, when that day arrives, and a woman takes the oath of office as our president, we will all stand taller, proud of the values of our nation, proud that every little girl can dream big and that her dreams can come true in America.

And all of you will know that, because of your passion and hard work, you helped pave the way for that day.

So I want to say to my supporters: When you hear people saying or think to yourself, If only, or, What if, I say, please, don't go there.

Every moment wasted looking back keeps us from moving forward.

Life is too short, time is too precious, and the stakes are too high to dwell on what might have been. We have to work together for what still can be. And that is why I will work my heart out to make sure that Senator Obama is our next president.

And I hope and pray that all of you will join me in that effort. "

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Sunday, June 8, 2008

Well, EVERYONE toots

Favorite lines of the week:

While babysitting for someone else's child.... (I know...WHY?!)

As I was tucking in my friend's little 4 1/2 year old girl for the night:

Do you toot, too? - she asked me.

EXCUSE me? - I said.

She smiled. Then... Do you toot, too? - she asked me AGAIN.

Of course I toot. Everyone toots. It is perfectly normal.

So and so doesn't toot. They say they don't like to toot.

Well, EVERYONE toots. Everyone. Some families get embarrassed talking about it, but it is a perfectly normal thing that happens with your body. There's nothing wrong with it.

I can't keep it in. I can't help it. It just comes out. - she says with some concern.

Well, that's GOOD. You're stomach would hurt if it was stuck in there. Goodnight. Sleep tight. - Me, desperate to end this dialogue on farting. Most especially with someone else's child...

BOY during the blessing slips in something like "and thank you for my trespasses."

Thank you for that blessing, BOY. Did you say trespasses?

My trespasses are delicate.

And so they are....

Look, Mommy, my baby has beautiful brown eyes like you. - that's my GIRL.

AND...that is my GIRL.

I better get to bed before I lose my privileges. Let's hope there are no toots.

**Comic courtesy of Google images.

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Saturday, June 7, 2008

The writing dream

After I wrote the poem "It is too late to hide her," I had the most vivid dream. When I awoke the next morning I madly started writing it down before the images faded. I believe the act of writing that poem released something in me that will continue to linger. The dream was about owning myself as a writer. I won't go into all the crazy elements of the dream, basically it was a dream about owning myself, having the self-confidence to declare who it is I am. What stands out most about the dream is when I said this: I am a writer. That is what they pay me for. So, I'm going to hold onto those thoughts for a while. It feels good to keep them tucked just under my heart. My own little dream floating out there, even in my subconscious.

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Friday, June 6, 2008

What size bathing suit would you wear?

As I maneuvered BOY and GIRL out the door yesterday, in a rush to get BOY to his swimming lesson at the Y, the crotch of my jeans soaked with water, I realized that nothing really embarrasses me anymore. I mean, should it embarrass me that I don't care about appearing in public with wet jeans? That perhaps someone could think that I peed my pants? Perhaps it should. But, it doesn't. Nope. I mean, really...once you experience giving birth and blow a baby out of your vagina...nothing can embarrass you again. About yourself.

There are exceptions. Perhaps your husband calling you to discuss your bathing suit size by phone could be one of them. It went something like this...

I was calmly minding my own business, having a lovely day of the red tide, one of those days when REGULAR accouterments simply...don't cut it. You, understand. In the middle of this lovely interlude of once a month in HELL, my husband, an innocent fellow known as E, calls me interrupting my delightful reverie.

Hello? - says I.

What size bathing suit would you wear? - E asks matter-of-factly.


Back to the tale...

EXCUSE ME? - say I, in what can only be interpreted as the BITCHIEST of bitches voice.


Would a size 32 work? Or a 34? How do you tell these sizes? E asks. [OH, yes...just a normal telephone call to discuss MY BATHING SUIT SIZE. Didn't I just go through bathing suit trauma recently? Although, nicely resolved. However, not something I would wish to go through again...this season.]

Is this a FRIGGIN' joke? [Is what I was thinking, but I refrained from speaking.]

Uh, what is this in reference to? - I ask.

Well, I'm at REI and there are some AMAZING bathing suits. One in purple that I think would look great on you. - He tells me.

I did not wish to think about bathing suits at this particular moment of bloating CRISIS, but what the hell...

We discuss the options. We hang up.

The phone rings again. He has discovered one in my size, apparently...

I appreciate you thinking of me, but I don't really need a bathing suit. I just got that one the other week. - I whisper weakly.

After all this is a TOTAL affront!

We talk. We hang up.


Two hours later he arrives brandishing a bag of goodies. All for me. Such embarrassment of riches.

Well, you never buy yourself anything nice and I found some things. - says E.

Apparently he did: A skort. A pretty top. And a bathing suit that looks très cool, but much TOO LARGE. I try it on...............................

It doesn't fit. TOO SMALL! Aaah...the DELIGHTS. It appears to be harmful to try on bathing suits in one's own home. Oh, well...

But, let's stop a moment and think about this:

  1. I have a husband who arrives home bearing gifts.
  2. I have a husband who thinks of me occasionally.
  3. Me. Self-absorbed, MUCH!?

You know I think the lure of fishnets is working... Or, maybe that boa! Damn, I better quit making fun of those friggin' white shoes!

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Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Will I remember it

Will I remember it,
this life we have now
moments in a day
long passed.

When I measured them
against a doorjamb
with pencil, a ruler
and pink measuring tape.

Each rushing to be
the first one
Me First! No, Me!
But, it's MY turn.

When I said it was not quite
time for me to say good-bye and
she said she wanted to hug me
just because she wanted to.

When I overheard their battle
he shouting, I'm leaving
and she said, filled with hope
To Africa!?

The many nights of losing sleep
because he came into our room
yet once, after a night out
gasping, Mom, you're home!

The push and pull of asking
for help or NOT
Mommy, will you tie this in a bow
...I can do it MYSELF!

Seeing the metamorphosis from
tentative to self-confident
painstakingly slow...and
then like quicksilver.

Stepping on train tracks
strewn carelessly
across the floor, out the door
and to his imagined beyond.

Her small hand tucked in mine
so soft, so very soft
the tiny fingers growing
bigger every day.

The way he threw his arms
around his swimming teacher
topped off with a kiss
upon her shoulder.

Pretending to fly with them
running and flinging ourselves
upon the couch, tummy first
muscles screaming, yet worth it.

The cadence of her voice
filling the room
as she "reads" aloud
for her own pleasure.

His blessing at dinner
thanking God for us
for his grandparents
and the homeless woman.

The hours they spent
in make-believe lives
playing together and
needing no one else.

Will I remember sitting here
on the edge of his bed
small, overturned shoes
cradling my tired feet.

A boy not yet ready
for me to leave
him alone, eyes closed
to his unknown dreams.

A girl attuned to his every sound
lying in her bed, across from his
deep breaths stirring in the dark.

They are my children, these two
one a boy, on his way to five
and a girl almost four
two of them, ten months apart...

Will I remember it,
this life we have now
Oh Yes! in every fiber,
every cell, of my being.

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Tuesday, June 3, 2008

It's not that I'm a total bitch via keyboard

Emails are a fantastic way to lose friends! And occasionally certain relatives. Well, losing relatives is harder, because basically you're stuck with them for life. But, friends...well, you may not intend to lose them, except that your email zipped off all too quickly may seem abrupt or just downright rude. Or not. But, they think so. Emails give new meaning to the word "backfire." And the phrase "insert foot in mouth" can have seemingly far reaching consequences. I find myself frequently zipping off emails and then later, always later, questioning my words. And forget it if I'm having an off day. I'm far more likely to take it out on my email recipients than I would in person. And there's the rub.... in person, I can present myself as a fairly stable, nice and calm person. In email...well I can come across as a psychotic loon.

It's not that I'm a total bitch via keyboard. I'm not looking for a fight. I actually tend to go along in life avoiding conflict with friends and family. But, when I receive an email that just doesn't sit right with me... that's when I'm in trouble. Because then I get all fired up, inflated and filled with self-righteousness. Granted, occasionally it is warranted. Occasionally. Now, for the most part, I think the sender has not sent me an email meant to intentionally provoke. But, now they've gone and DONE IT and I am just not going to sit idly by. Some things said in email just send me over the edge. God, save me from clicking on "reply" or worse, "reply all" when I meant to just "reply" to one person! Oh...SO Guilty.

What IS IT in emails that rocks my world? Things that are usually out of my control. The problem with this is that in life...things are out of my control MOST OF THE TIME. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. But, NOOOOO. Yep, this chocolate gulping, caffeine pounding, occasional whiskey sippin' gal doesn't like the feeling of her fishnets dangling ...without her in them. You get the picture. Luckily, I haven't sent any emails that are truly scandalous... yet. But, just give me time. "Insert partially clad leg" could be my middle name. So, until they invent a little voice on my keyboard that talks to me before I hit the "send" button, I'm susceptible to looking like a virtual jackass. As opposed to just a plain, in-person type, jackass. And if I could write the dialogue, this is what my computer would utter...perhaps sotto voce: JCK....CHILL! Get the self-righteous probe out of your ass, bag the caffeine and have yourself a whiskey followed by lots of chocolate ...BEFORE you hit the "send" button!

**Picture credit: Google images

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Monday, June 2, 2008

Well, it seems I am a fickle dame

You remember my other lover? You know the one ...oh the cozy!... the laying abed for hours, the feel of... Yes, that lover. Well, it seems I am a fickle dame and that lover is luring bed. AAAAh....lying horizontal, pausing for light-o'-love... My paramour.

The anticipation is killing me!

See ya!


...dammit, my fishnets are tangled!


Where the hell are my reading glasses?

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Sunday, June 1, 2008

You look very handsome

Snippets of conversation on a Sunday afternoon with GIRL & BOY

Mommy can you help me with my cape? asks GIRL.

Mommy, how do I look? - GIRL dressed in cape, tiara, paint splattered shirt with her name label from church, "GIRL," still stuck across her chest, striped leggings, Princess shoes and a purse.

Is BOY dressing up? - I ask.

He isn't dressing up. He's handsome.- replies GIRL.

BOY, how do I look?

You look cool, GIRL. Very cool. - says BOY now dressed in pajamas.

You look very handsome. - states GIRL.

I don't look handsome.

Yes, you do.

BOY, the wedding is starting. - says GIRL.

Oh, I can't dance, because I have my PJs on. --the not so mournful BOY.

Tomorrow it's going to be a rain storm. Today, can you dance? - asks GIRL.

GIRL, I feel kind of, a little bit...TIRED. - states BOY, going to lie down on his bed and pulling the covers over his head.

GIRL starts singing the dance music: La, la, la, la...

BOY leaves the room as GIRL says, Don't worry. It's only a dance for girls.


It's TOMORROW, BOY! - shouts GIRL.

OK, gotta go. GIIRRRRRL, I see all my friends.- Says BOY.

........................suspicious silence for a bit and then:

We're painting. Oh, we have to wash our hands. - BOY.

Come ON, BOY!

I'm dirty. It's too big a mess. - BOY

Dirty? BOY complaining about too big a Mess?

......JCK awakens from eavesdropping on the delightful conversation between her children and goes to investigate. They have been painting. With blue toothpaste. On the window trim in the bathroom.


Let me look in the mirror and see how I look. - says BOY.

You look great, BOY!

I look RIDICULOUS!! - states BOY.

And he's off....

Apparently the combination of being handsome, some dancing obligations, and a certain look were too much for BOY. He's out the door. Just him and the great outdoors. Safe from girls.

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