...Are we all morons?

The American Academy of Pediatrics has announced that sugared sports drinks and highly caffeinated energy drinks are harmful to children. JCK would like to thank The Academy for... this brilliant analysis. Can we say a collective...DUH....?!!

Caffeine and other stimulants contained in energy drinks "have no place in the diet of children and adolescents," cautioned Marcie Beth Schneider, MD, of Greenwich Adolescent Medicine in Greenwich, Conn., and colleagues.

Jesus, Mary & Joseph, and throw the Wise Men in, too. Has everyone lost their minds? JCK wonders ... Are we all morons? Or, are we just being treated as morons? JCK is not sure, but JCK is certain that these superb facts released by the American Academy of Pediatrics reflect poorly on all of us. And, that an entire generation of parents who came before us are spitting their coffee out this morning, at the idiocy of this announcement.

JCK is the first one to acknowledge that parenting decisions are challenging, but parenting is also about good old fashioned horse sense. Apparently, our logic has taken a hiatus. Common sense. Let's use it! We'll call it the new Parenting Revolution...

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Image courtesy of Google Images.

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Let's turn things off once in a while, and tune in to our children

My daughter's preschool has a rule about cell phones. Don't use them on the school property. At the beginning of the year, they politely send out a reminder that although they recognize that some phone calls are important, there is nothing more important than focusing on your child at pick-up and drop-off. It's a great rule. Most parents comply, and it invites actual socializing between parents, before and after school. Unfortunately, the art of conversation with a person in person...appears to be on the wane.

Yesterday I realized that the ante must be upped, after witnessing a dad sucked into THE VORTEX ...quietly and furtively using his cell phone to check emails, and zipping off a few text messages. Meanwhile, his daughter was madly trying to get his attention while racing across the pavement on a firetruck tricycle.

Daddy! Daddy! Look at ME!

Mmm hmmmm. Yes, mmmm hmmm.

Never once did he look up, except to turn his body a bit, away from the morning sun, which apparently was causing a glare to his cell phone screen.

He won't get those five minutes back.

It is everywhere. This constant of chatting on the phone, or engaging in texting, while "being with your child." We, as women, the ultimate multi-taskers, are probably most at fault. How many times do you see a mom picking up her school age children, while waving them into the car and driving away, all while on the phone? What about that little conversation that starts....how was your day today, honey? Yes, what about THAT.

Get off the phone!

I'm sorry, people, it just doesn't fly. It's called NARCISSISM. Some might even call it ...masturbation. Because, at some point, that is what it IS. Really.

Hey, can you do that somewhere else? Somewhere...P.R.I.V.A.T.E.?!!

Sadly, it's not just the parents. Now, the nannies are doing it, too. Go to any playground and you'll see children playing. And adults talking... to someone else, who is not present.

I understand that going to the playground with your children can be tedious and boring. Yet... It's also such a delicious opportunity to see those magical moments. Your daughter making it across the monkey bars for the first time. Your son hugging a child who is hurt. The sudden realization that time is fleeting ...and somehow another year has passed, and your children are almost too big for this playground.

We have truly become an addicted society. We need to be tuned in. We need to have our phone on ...just in case. We need to check our email one last time, because ....well, you know. There might be something URGENT. This whole thing of constantly being available to the universe at large is disconcerting. Can we breathe without an electronic connection? Can we?

Let's turn things off once in a while, and tune in to our children. It will be a decision we will never regret.

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People seem to carry an attitude of ENTITLEMENT

What in the world has happened to good manners? I am assaulted everywhere by rudeness. Is it that people are in too much of a hurry? Well, yes…but aren’t we trying to go faster than humanly possible? And losing something of ourselves along the way? Living life in the fast lane is a part of it, but I think it is more than that. It is a societal change. People seem to carry an attitude of ENTITLEMENT. My life is more important than yours. I don’t have time to hold this door open for you, trying to maneuver two small children through a narrow entrance, because I’m on the cell phone dealing with VERY IMPORTANT stuff.

Last week a friend of mine invited a new neighbor and her family over for dinner. The family had moved in a couple of weeks before, and my friend had been helping out the mom – watching her three children in addition to my friend’s own two children. The plans were made several days in advance, a time was set and all was well. Until the neighbor called up my friend an hour before they were due to arrive, and said that since her mom was visiting she and her husband had to take advantage of the free babysitting and have a date night. An hour before. I will not minimize the importance of date nights, but COME ON! Not only had my friend shopped and had dinner on hand and ready to start, but her husband had arranged to leave work early so that he could be home and be a part of welcoming the family to the neighborhood. So, the couple went out for the evening and still sent the grandmother and three children over to partake of the free dinner. I was appalled when my friend told me this story. Appalled.

And yet, I’m wondering how unusual this story really is in our world today. I’m sure we could take a survey and find many similar stories out there. So, what is one to do? For myself, having two small children and conscious of wanting to raise them to be polite and responsible citizens, I’m determined to beat the odds. I have to hold on to the idea that I can teach them to have lovely manners and be good people. People who raise the bar. Because, the way our world is going, someone needs to do it. And what better way than to start it at home…today.

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This is part of the Official Bitch Day at Fabulously 40 and Beyond. Please go over there and check out the great Bitchin' posts.

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Leather. Furniture. Instant. Inflamed. Reaction. In. Men.

So, what IS IT exactly about men and leather? Apparently, it’s some kind of Pavlovian response. A couple of weeks ago my husband E mentioned that a client was getting rid of a “great looking leather sofa and armchair” and… had offered it to E, if he wanted it. For free. Now, E is not someone who hops all over free deals. Free stuff doesn’t scream INSTANT ORGASM, like it does to me. My heritage is Scottish, what can I say. However…you smack leather around furniture and the answer is…I’m easy.

This is not anything new. Ever since we’ve been married, when he’s flipping through a catalogue and comes across a leather chair, I hear…LOOK AT THIS!!! I look at it, it’s OK. It’s nice. NOT the reaction he’s going for. He wants …NIIICE. Personally, I just don’t see the appeal. Maybe it’s because I wear dresses and shorts upon occasion and don’t like my skin sticking to what feels like human skin, but isn’t. I tend to run hot in the summer. OK, I glow. I like to get up from furniture without taking it with me.

Lest you think I’m rigid, let me assure you, I’m not a “leather hater”. If we’re talking about leather clothing or accessories… that’s different. Purses. YEAH! Leather jackets. Mmmm..hmmm... You KNOW it, baby! But, putting your ass on leather just doesn’t get me going. An ass in leather pants…now, we’re talking. THAT can even be a party game. Really, IT can. Several years ago we were at a friend’s house indulging in cocktails and ummm…let’s just keep it at cocktails. Our friend used to be a punk rock star and at some point in the evening he decided to pull out his leather pants that he used to wear on tour. Well, we ALL had to try them on and do a little intoxicated modeling. Needless to say, I will never look at leather pants in quite the same way.

But, I digress. Let’s get back to the main issue at hand. Leather. Furniture. Instant. Inflamed. Reaction. In. Men. Especially in married men, because those are the only men I encounter these days. Perhaps for them, it harkens back to those glorious days of yesteryear…the single days…the black leather couch, the babe stretched out, the evening unencumbered by children or discussion of mundane household issues. I dated a man once who had a living room full of leather furniture and Patrick Nagel prints all over his walls. I was rather voluptuous at the time and sitting on the leather couch whilst looking up at anorexic women with oversized, unnatural boobs just didn’t DO IT for me. I believe the relationship lasted one weekend.

My husband E is not a fan of Nagel artwork. Sorry, Patrick. He likes women with rounded curves and strong legs. One of the reasons I fell in love with him. That and on our first date his willingness to sit in preschool chairs outside on a sidewalk devouring ice cream cones. Plastic chairs, mind you. But, you put leather furniture in front of him and his turn-on radar goes BA DA BOOM BOOM. And he’s not alone. Oh, NO, NO, NOOO….my anecdotal evidence goes much further.

Whilst I was in San Francisco for the BlogHer conference, a decision was made, a U-Haul trailer was rented, and the leather couch & armchair were brought to our home. Our home with a 3 year old and a 4 year old. Crayons. Scissors. Hot Wheels cars that scratch. To be fair, E asked me where in the house I’d like the furniture to reside. Sort of. He indicated that it would be best for it to go in our sunroom, which is our playroom. Play. Room. Just sayin… He called a neighbor over to help him move the monstrous furniture pieces into our home.

Male Neighbor: Wow, MAN…this furniture is NIIIICE! You got THIS for FREE?!

After an hour of manipulation and room arrangement, the furniture makes it to the sunroom. 1/2 of the toys are now in the living room. The leather couch and armchair are rather large. Husband is happy. I, try to make the best of it with minimal snarky ass comments.

A couple of days later…

Another MALE Friend comes over and says to me: Can you BELIEVE how NIIIICE this stuff is? And it was for FREE!!

Me: Mmmm…yes, I just CAN’T believe it. [I don’t think he picked up on my sarcastic tone.]

Yet another day passes in what I now call Our HOUSE OF LEATHER...

A different Male Friend comes over and does a DOUBLE-TAKE upon looking in the former playroom.

He says: You got some NEW furniture! NIIIIICE.

If you had any doubts about my Married Men Inflamed by Leather Furniture case study, I am quite sure that you now see that my evidence is rock solid. Leather clad.

CAUSE: Leather furniture = EFFECT: Instant TURN-On for males, including married ones.

Anecdotal case closed. As for the leather furniture? Well…my husband has been beaten down is appearing to reconsider the INSTANT TURN-ON couch & armchair. Was it BOY racing his cars on it? GIRL using the couch as a crafts table? Who knew? There appears to be a downside. It could be time for SELLING LEATHER FURNITURE ON CRAIG’S LIST!!! I will delight in the high bids. I predict an instant sale to a single man harboring fantasies of how leather furniture is going to be an INSTANT TURN-ON to his many future dates. Should I tell him? Naaaa…men need to have a chance to dream. Before the leather is taken away….



****Patrick Nagel Print courtesy of Google Images

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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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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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Just call me The Buzz Killer

We ate a lot of candy over Easter. In fact I'm considering taking out a 2nd mortgage on my ass. Sad, but true. We can just call it thigh thumpers - when your thighs bump, bump unto themselves. But, enough self-flagellation. This too shall pass.

BOY loves sugar. LOVES IT. We don't have a lot of it on a regular basis. We have dessert night 2-3 nights a week, occasionally go out for ice cream and on rare occasions have candy. On Saturday we went over to a friend's house for an Easter egg hunt and lunch. There were 2 big bowls of jelly beans on the dining room table. There WERE 2 big bowls. BOY managed to deplete the jelly bean count by possibly hundreds. Twice I arrived on the scene to find him scooping up a large fistful out of the bowl and...stuffing them in his mouth. He was OBSESSED. The bowls of jellybeans were moved out of reach, by a woman, who by now was giving me the YOU REALLY SUCK AS A MOM stare. Which always makes me feel like I have to say something. But...why do I do that!?

We don't have candy often, so this is a real treat for him, I say.

Well, that's your problem. My kids have it ALL THE TIME, so they don't even pay attention to it anymore, says she of Superior MomAtude.

Apparently, having candy only occasionally is a problem. The conversation ended, because I walked out of the room fairly ANNOYED. Did I ask for her advice? Do I want it? Is there something wrong with not letting my children's young bodies be fed candy ALL THE TIME? I mean, isn't that making a healthy choice?

Easter is a special occasion and so we let BOY & GIRL have a good amount of candy that day. But, then it is over. Or maybe not... I was talking to a friend about this today -have you noticed that people are offering your kids candy left and right? Everywhere you go. Doctor's offices, gymnastic classes, store keepers, strangers in the grocery store. And when you turn down their offer they react as if YOU are the odd one. You're being judged for not letting your child have candy. Correct me if I'm wrong, but last time I checked candy wasn't part of the food pyramid. Candy doesn't help build strong muscles and bones. Yet, I'm the one with the problem. Yep. Just call me The Buzz Killer.

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Their expectations are too high

We had a conference yesterday afternoon with BOY's lead teacher and the Director of his daycare. BOY has become increasingly stressed at school. He has been having accidents, and now this week has had 2 incidents of acting out at nap time. Today he leapt off of his cot and started running around the room refusing to get back on his cot. The Director took him to her office and set up the cot there and he continued to run in the office. She had to physically lie on top of him to keep him on his cot. He finally settled down, chatting up the Director and fell asleep. The first thing I thought of when they told us this was ...why didn't they take him outside for a few minutes?

Parenting is a journey of so many twists and turns. It is mind boggling. My heart is heavy with worry over BOY right now. I have been so exhausted with this that I was unable to even articulate my thoughts and write last night. At 4 years old, a time when he should be playing and having fun and delighting in life, he is feeling pressure and stress at his daycare. Their expectations are too high. He is 4. He is feeling stress. Those two concepts should not be engaged or related to each other. It is insane for a 4 year old to be stressed out at preschool/daycare.

BOY has always been unique. Of course, every parent thinks their children are unique. But, I have to say that he is different. In an amazing, colorful, irresistable, and yes, challenging way. From an early age, it was so obvious that he thinks "outside the box." He is an inventor. He has a vivid imagination. He is an individual thinker. He needs lots of physical activity and his body is always moving. Not in an erratic, jumpy way, but he is what you would call "all boy". And he is incredibly sensitive and empathetic to others. And I will not have his spirit squashed.

Last night he was almost manic, he was flying around the living room and talking nonstop. He had to go to sleep between us because he was so whacked out. By this morning, he was calmer, but had 2 accidents at home. We spent the whole day hanging around outside playing with toys, and loving on him. The day noticeably turned around and he has gotten progressively calmer.

We're going to try a couple of weeks of just 1/2 days to see if that helps. I am now beginning to understand God's plan in me not having found a full-time job yet. BOY needs me. In a big way. And I'm right here.

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It feels good to have faith

Faith, where does it come from? Are you born with it? Do you learn it? These are some of the thoughts that I'm reflecting on today. My husband and I are struggling financially - hence my decision to go back to work full-time. It has been a long uphill battle for a couple of years now and if you sit down and look at it on paper it is really scary. But, somehow you have to be able to take the information in and use it. Assimilate it. Dissect it. And have the faith that you can change it.

I grew up not going to church on any regular basis. My parents decided not to join a church or have church be a part of our lives. My father, ironically, had gone to college with the idea of becoming a minister. But, he became disillusioned over the abstract aspects of Christianity. My mother was the child of rebels. My grandparents came from a very small, still tiny, town in South Georgia. My grandfather's father was a Southern Baptist preacher. My grandmother's father was the town doctor. You know where I am going with this... of course, they rebelled. And in a big way. They moved to New York City in the 30's, lived in a 4th floor walk-up and took on the life of artists in Greenwich Village. They had great stories of 10 friends sharing 1 bottle of wine and a big spaghetti dinner every Friday night during the depression. Their friends would sing, perform, display their art and read aloud from their novels-in-progress.

So, all this led to me growing up with an incredible ignorance of Christianity, just from lack of exposure and also a prejudice born from previous generations. My interpretation of Being a Christian meant being a right wing, bible pounding, literal translation in your face kind of person. (You may have noticed that I tend to lean a bit to the other side...) So, I rejected going to church, too. Yet, I always felt that something was missing. Especially when I was going through difficult times and needed something else. Something larger than myself. Something to lean on.

Over the years, in my 20's and 30's I explored different churches, searching for .... that elusive faith that I felt I lacked. After E and I had children, it became even clearer to me that I wanted to find a church that gives me strength and hope. That inspires me. That leads me to believe in the good and that there is a place truly open to everyone. Black, white, gay, straight, old, young, poor - just open. We were lucky enough to find a church, and it is one of the main things that anchors my life. I feel centered when I go, which is often. Yet, I never feel obligated and I cry almost every week because I feel so lucky to have found a place where "whoever you are and wherever you find yourself on your journey of faith, there is a place here for you." Best of all, it is true. They walk the walk. And I am in wonder that I actually go to church! I feel so blessed that my children will have a place of strength that they can draw from as they mature, that is in addition to us. My greatest wish is that E and I will have a relationship with our children that is one in which they can come to us, with anything. But, I also know from some of the troubling times I went through as a teenager and young adult sometimes you need more than your parents or your friends.

It is not like me to wax on and on about my Christianity or my faith. I tend to be a very private person about this issue. But, recently someone came over to my blog and made some hurtful, hateful comments about people who are gay. And I find that unacceptable. I have found myself biting my tongue and letting myself believe that it is best to just let it go. Yet, I can't. Because that feels wrong to me. And so today, I find myself posting about something that I didn't intend to write about. And my inspiration has been Deb at Tired Mummy. She made me weep.

So, what does this all come down to for me? It is a question of faith. Having faith that we will come through challenging financial times and come out on the other side. Having faith that my children, who are lucky enough to go to school with children who come from diverse homes with amazing single parents, homes with 2 mommies or two daddies, and homes that have a mom and a dad- will grow up to be good, loving people who have faith. BOY & GIRL are being exposed to different versions of "family" and I am proud that we can give them that. It is a small step, but a step to what I believe is a better world of possibility for all. I have faith that it will be a different place when they are my age and that there will be less anonymous posters of hate, but more of joy and love. Is the world that perfect that we have room for more prejudice, more injustice, more segregation, more vitrioled expression?

It feels good to have faith. Even on the worst days. Sometimes, I need to be reminded of it. And today Deb reminded me. And something she said in the comments section to her post was brilliant: "It's a fine line though, being intolerant of intolerance." It's a fine line though, being intolerant of intolerance. As we fight against injustice, we must be cautious of our anger carrying us into territory of our own intolerance. And I leave you with that.

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Aging Americans Requesting Pampers

Some days this would strike me as funny. Today it does NOT. I have been contacted by AARP to register with them. They even sent me a card. THE AARP FOR GOD'S SAKE! Excuse me for shouting, but I am far from AMUSED. Our records show that you haven't yet registered for the benefits of AARP membership, even though you are fully eligible. FULLY ELIGIBLE!! They are only 4 years TOO EARLY. OK, perhaps I'm being a bit oversensitive. I turn 46 on Wednesday and was feeling, really, not bad at all about it. Now however, I'm having to actually reflect on my age. I looked AARP up on the free dictionary online - as I didn't know what it stood for - other than - you're really friggin' old! And look at the picture above! The picture is from the free online dictionary, too - under their definition of AARP. Let's face it, the couple looks feeble at best. AARP...mmmm, Aging Americans Requesting Pampers? Nope. It is officially the American Association For Retired Persons. I guess that sounds better. Maybe. It still shouts YOU'RE OLD! Just when I was feeling pretty good about not feeling old... Oh, well...there goes THAT. What goes around comes around and I was just teasing E the other day about his receiving the same letter from AARP, except it seemed much funnier. And not quite a stretch - chronologically speaking, as he turns the big 50 on Saturday! Go, E Go! I will NEVER make fun of him AGAIN...grumble, grumble. Well, never say never. Last time I said never it was about driving a minivan...and there you go. Looks like this day is going to be full of humble pie eatin'.

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This indoor playground? I will never, ever go there again

Today was the first time Girl was invited to a birthday party and Boy got to tag along. It has always been the reverse. A lovely couple who have a little boy in Girl's class included her, which was so nice since Girl is new to the class. The party was at one of those indoor playgrounds.

I've always been a fan of indoor playgrounds. (Check out Amy's!) They offer a terrific alternative on hot days in summer and rainy days in winter. This one however, was akin to riding a rocket to hell or being stuck inside a pinball machine. The NOISE level was out of control and it was mobbed. And mobbed with bad mannered, aggressive children and tuned-out parents. Now, I am not including the parents of the party goers in this. I think we were all in a similar state of shock. One parent was overheard (well...overheard after 3 attempts) shouting, It's places like this that make you want to go to the library!

Usually these indoor facilities have just one private party at a time on the weekends. This particular one is open to the public. Which at first seems like a novel idea, but in actuality creates a new version of chaos. And you thought Chuck E. Cheese was loud?! Many, many children in one large space with noise levels on a scale that is off any chart I've ever experienced. And I'm not just talking about the children screaming. There was that. But, between the computerized keyboards that play a mash of hip-hop/clash (not to be confused with The Clash) and the frequent bursts of compressed air shooting out balls into the air, my children were at first clinging to my legs. Boy, who is noise sensitive, was able to play for periods of time, but would start crying and covering his ears about every 20 minutes. And he is someone who loves new experiences.

Inside the large center space are "guns" that can be loaded with small soft balls. When we arrived, two fathers were pounding each other and their children with volleys of loud shots. For children who enjoy climbing, it looks on the surface like a fabulous, creative crawling space. That's if you take away the noise and the people. The problem was that as you were climbing up with your children, bigger and older children were attempting and succeeding in passing you and I won't even say inadvertently stomping on your children. I had to actually yell at children who were strangers to me. I pulled out my Drill Sergeant Mom voice. When I told them to stop climbing over my children and they didn't, I finally managed to stop them in their tracks with You know, this is VERY BAD manners! That dazed them for a moment before they continued on in their destruction of other innocent children. I could go on for hours about this, but I already have and I won't here.

Since I fail profoundly at the art of few words, I will just say this to summarize. Beward of indoor playgrounds. Especially ones that are beyond OVER THE TOP! If it wasn't for our lovely hosts, we would have been out of there after the first 5 minutes. Enter at your own risk ... I will never, ever go there again.

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Let's just call it TLI, Too Little Information

O.K., so my husband would probably say that he suffers from me delivering TMI. Now, I don't see this at all. I merely can juggle numerous tasks and vital pieces of information at once. Yes, I am a brilliant multi-tasker, except when really important things seem to fall through the cracks - like not remembering my nephew's birthday, whom I love so... much and now feel like CRAPOLA because I forgot his birthday. But, that aside, I am able to handle quite a bit of material that seems to overwhelm Sir husbando.

Just for an example, his sister calls with the news that one of her daughter's is engaged. I merely ask:

How did he propose?
Where did he propose?
When are they getting married?
Was she surprised?
Did she cry?

This delicate assortment of questions appears to him to be a barrage of questions and brings about a kind of stricken deer-caught-in-the-headlights look upon my husband's face. And his answer is always the same:

I don't know. I didn't ask her that, he says.

Well, what the hell did you talk about anyway? I mean, your sister calls to tell you that your niece is engaged and what?... you talk about something else!

Now, if it had been me, I would have had the answers to all of those questions and more. I would have waxed eloquently on and on, probably losing ol' hubby mid-stream. We, as women, perhaps offer up a bit of TMI, but I think it is about time that we agreed that there is a far more serious problem. And I'm naming it TLI. Too Little Information. It is rampant, all around us. We are surrounded by men bearing little more than ...she's getting married. If we get that much. Sometimes, important news like that is not even delivered and I find out about it ...well, 3 months later. I'm always the last to know and it is all due to TLI. We might as well be playing telephone without a receiver.

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I have a theory about Global Warming!

I have a theory about Global Warming. I've thought a great deal about this and I am convinced that it is true. And it is this: Children aged 2 to 3 add to Global Warming. Yes, they do. The pure combustible, laser hot, fevered chaos that erupts out of 2 & 3 year olds is dangerous. Not only to us. But, to our planet. Do you not think that the rage and grief exploding from our children damages the ozone layer? It certainly can be seen at my house. We haven't seen a blue sky in days. And the stars? Wiped off the face of the sky. I'm just stunned that Al Gore hasn't thought of this. I believe in Global Warming. It is a serious matter. Besides, I saw An Inconvenient Truth.

Of course, this is only my theory. But, somehow I can see parents lining up behind me on this one. Yes, our preschooler contributes to Global Warming! It could be a T-shirt. A slogan! Except that we can't hold our heads high over this one... Well, if you drive a Prius...maybe they cancel each other out. And although you've got the noise pollution factor with the kids, the cut in air pollution earns you enough points to call it a draw. There is obviously much, much to think about here. I better get on the phone and call Leonardo DiCaprio immediately. After all, his film The 11th Hour opens in a few days and maybe he could slip in my theory during a press release. Hey, it's worth asking.... And just think... if my theory holds up to scientific scrutiny...OOOOhhhhhh Maaannnn! Man, oh, Man! I WILL truy be a SUPERHERO MOM! Maybe I could even wear a costume..... An outfit without any evidence of leftover meals stuck on it! Oh, YES! I am going to be THE THANG!

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My GOD it was a red ant FIESTA

Fire ants are not my friend. In fact, any substance/creature that tends to cause burning and itching seems to find me and dig in. Ants, poison oak, poison ivy, add to the list what you will. Our visit to Wakulla Springs was apparently a bit more lively than originally planned. Upon arrival to the park, after the cars had finished disgorging all of us and there was much milling around, my mom decided that it would be a prime time to take a group picture. Although a fine idea, by this time I had noticed red ants everywhere. We were surrounded so to speak. Red ants in the grass, red ants on the weather beaten picnic tables, red ants climbing, circling, leering. My God it was a red ant fiesta.

So, while mom sashayed over to any stranger that looked friendly enough to take our picture, I navigated the field, discreetly trying not to scream, small gasps escaping my lungs. We were all wearing flip flops and sandals - practically an engraved invitation for the RED ARMY. I picked Girl up and prayed that Boy would not decide to stick his foot in a red ant nest. Mom managed to corner a very amenable young father and amateur photographer when what we really needed was a rough and tumble outback bush photographer. But, let's not be picky.

So....the 20 of us assembled into a gathering of sorts whilst I muttered something about watch out for the red ant mutiny. By this time I had noticed there were hordes of ants on the picnic tables. Not a strategic place to sit and pose. My feet had assumed a stomping dance, which instead of keeping the ants away seemed to be a drum call luring them to my toes. As we "cheesed" for the camera, I felt a ripple of multiple stings. Let's just say it hurts. Since I had Girl in my arms and didn't want to add ants to her lengthy, indexed catalogue of FEARS, I bravely sucked it up.

The stinging sensation lasted only a short time. It is the annoying fiery itching lasting several days that has me crazed. And it seems to get worse at night. Right when I'm climbing into bed it starts. Dammit! So, I've been downing Children's Grape flavored chewable Benadryl. By the handful. My teeth are now a slight shade of purple. But...Girl was saved. And Boy was spared. I am a true parent. I sacrificed my toes for God's sake.

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A trip into Beverly Hills...an exotic land

The only thing I like about Beverly Hills is that it seems exotic. A foreign land. Since most of my excursions are via minivan, locally, with children in tow, a jaunt to the other side of town and by myself is almost racy.

I arrive in Beverly Hills; a place of perfectly manicured people, lawns and palm trees. And, oh yes, here are the cars... Audi's, Jaguar's, Mercedes and of course, the Bentley convertible. Not that we don't have these things in the town where we live, but here in Beverly Hills it is different. For one, there doesn't seem to be any dust. Or even dirt. Anywhere. Is that normal?! Everything is shiny. I see no chaos. No mess. Storefront windows are gleaming. People are freshly nipped, tucked, manicured and pedicured. Look, there's someone walking by in bandages from a recent visit to the plastic surgeon. Do they think they are invisible? I guess it is so normal here that people don't even notice it. Here's a beautiful children's store. There are no children in it. Do children live in Beverly Hills? Maybe there is a 24 hour toddler curfew? Preschoolers? I think they've been banished. Beverly Hills is child-free! That's why it is so quiet!!

I always notice how my behavior changes when I come here. I feel self-conscious. Today it doesn't help matters that I'm wearing my suburban bright Purple CROCS. I swear the woman waiting by the elevator just sneered at my CROCS! To alleviate the potential awkwardness posed by sharing an elevator with said woman, I decide to exit the parking structure by taking the stairs. As I pass by her, I feel the need to say, "Oh, I'm taking the stairs. I SO need the exercise." For someone who is naturally chatty like me, Beverly Hills is not the place to hang shall we say - not if you obviously don't belong there. Except for the overly courteous valets or the man who runs the smoothie store, chats are discouraged. In fact, conversations can just die on the vine. I do overhear some interesting coversations involving other people. A woman says, "She just completely lost it. Fell apart." Just when I'm feeling relieved that there are tantruming toddlers around, and she's talking about one of them, she continues, "...and so she just checked herself in." OK, not talking about toddlers. The other people just went into The Farm of Beverly Hills. There are no cows there. Maybe a few pigs. Could these others be from LOST? Even if my socioeconomic class were different, this would not be a place where I'd be inclined to spend my cash. Noone looks like they are having much fun. It is all so serious. It's a very weird place. No, I'd probably spend even more money at Costco or maybe I'd splurge and get a Target credit card! Or, take trips to other exotic lands.

I am here to see my dentist. The 3rd visit in a month. It has been a very looong time since I've seen my dentist. It has been SO...long that they had to take a complete set of x-rays (lost count after 8 billion) and basically, they didn't know who I was. Don't they know who I AM? My God, I'm a mother! OK, I'm baaack! I'm here for my 2ND of 2 parts...a deep cleaning. The women who work in the office are actually very nice. The dentist is a little intimidating; a walking ad for the Beverly Hills Man. He tends to stare at me as if he were about to suggest a quick stop off at the plastic surgeon's downstairs. The plastic surgeon's office is strategically located across from the elevator. Once, to kill time while I was waiting for the elevator, I read the list of services posted on the door. I swear a lady with a very tight smile bounded out from behind what I thought had been a closed door - asking if she could help me? Yes, I need help, but not the kind you are talking about lady. Maybe I'm not being fair about the dentist. He could be thinking...hm, not a bad looking wench, some "had a baby" belly and her hair is pretty outrageous - kind of like Emmy Lou Harris...only younger. Mmm...probably not thinking that. Besides, I think he is gay.

My dentist's teeth are WHITE and sparkling. And that is why I go here. Because, I covet the sparkling WHITE teeth of my youth. And they also take my HMO! I'm now coming up for air after having two children in 1 year. Girl is almost 3 and Boy is a little past 3 1/2. It's time to think about my appearance and not just the grooming habits of my young. Teeth are a good place to start.

I leave the dentist's office with a mouthful of clean, fairly WHITE teeth. I feel good. As I drive out of the parking structure, I catch the eye of a woman driving in. THANK GOD, A SUBARU! She smiles at me. Perhaps she covets sparkling teeth like me.

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Recall on Thomas Trains

RC2 Corp. Recalls Various Thomas & Friends(tm) Wooden Railway Toys Due to Lead Poisoning Hazard.

I found out about this recall and am absolutely mystified, perplexed...and downright outraged. I mean how in the WORLD could a company put lead based paint on children's toys?!!! Lead has been out of house paint for years, because of the dangers. And even oil paint is hard to come by now. Lead based paint on "various Thomas & Friends(tm) Wooden Railway Toys." Unbelievable. How many toddlers have been putting these little wooden trains in their mouth as a pacifier? So many things are going out into the world these days without being checked and double-checked. We're all in a hurry. Let's churn out those toys...then we'll see if there are any problems or endangerment to our children.

If you want to see the full list of the trains containing lead paint on CPSC's web site, check out: http://www.cpsc.gov/cpscpub/prerel/prhtml07/07212.html

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A Book of Manners from Dystopia - At WHAT AGE is this appropriate??!

O.K., here is the scenario. I picked up a book of manners illustrated by one of my all-time favorite children's illustrators. I actually purchased it over a year before we had Boy - back in the days of yearning for a family and the hopes that buying a children's book would bring luck in achieving that goal. I never opened it until today. It has been on our hallway bookshelf and I had put it there thinking that we would pick it up at a later time. We're working on the importance of good manners now, so I thought - Great! This is a new book that looks fun. I flipped through the pages and came upon this: "You are a cowboy riding around the range. Suddenly Bad-Nose Bill comes up behind you with a gun. He says,'Would you like me to shoot a hole in your head?'" Then the next line is, "What do you say, dear?" ...

I'll tell you what I say, DEAR. What the HELL!!! Not only are these the words, but it is fully illustrated with a cowboy pointing a BIG gun to a little cowboy's head. I mean at what age would this be appropriate?? The back of the book says that it is aimed at children ages 4 to 8. (No pun intended.) Am I insane or does this seem CRAZY!!? I am just friggin OUTRAGED that this book is out there. I'm tossing it! Oh, if you're wondering what the response to "What do you say, Dear?" was ... it was this: "No, thank you." A book of manners for 4 to 8 year olds. Yeah, in Dystopia.

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Why the hell not?

O.K., so today I bought a T-shirt. It is neon pink, has a male couple and a female couple on a big wedding cake and says:

Our Agenda
Equal Rites
blessing All unions
The Episcopal Church
Welcomes YOU!

I figure why the hell not? I am supportive of ALL unions. Is that a bad thing if people want to be committed to each other? Boy has two friends who have 2 mommies in his class. What an amazingly open world our children are growing up in today. And that makes me feel good. Maybe I can put the T-shirt on and walk past that Evangelical Church around the corner for kicks? Besides, I've always been a sucker for neon pink!

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TMI Butt Crack

What is it ?! It's not what you think. I'm not talking about one's addiction to the bun warmer in your minivan nor your Starbuck's machiatto after delivering your child safely to preschool. Or even Trader Joe's chocolate covered espresso beans. It is the mommies in their low ridin', hip huggin', too precious jeans with a view of TMI butt crack. We used to call this plumber's crack when men did it. Now the mommies have taken over in spades. Is nothing sacred anymore? Mommy Crack...coming to a sandbox near you.

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