Thanks Lowest Common Denominator!

Dear Maclaren,

I wanted to compliment you on how easy it was to request the hinge cover kits and how quickly they arrived. I am the proud owner of TWO Maclarens and I ADORE them both. Personally, I think I should work in your marketing department because I am already doing the work.

Children can be injured with the very same kid-safe spoon that they eat lunch with when parents aren't watching them. This hinge/finger issue is the same sort of issue - a no brainer! Move your child out of the way when you open and close the stroller!

I find it abhorrent that companies like yours and the manufacturers of blinds/roman shades with pull cords are under scrutiny right now because people are too lazy or don't care enough to be attentive to their own children.

Unfortunately, these parents cause us to all be treated to the lowest common denominator. It frustrates me to no end because even as astute parents, we are not spared the mandatory lectures or regimens at the doctors office, installing carseats, at school, etc. I suppose theey can no longer risk delineating between a parent who has some common sense and those who do not.

I just wanted you to know you're doing a great job! Keep up the good work!

Warsh your arse!

The ladies rooms' (yes, plural, as in all 5 of them) at my new office ALL STINK. Not like poop, which unbelievably, I'd prefer. They smell like steamy, greasy lady-parts that haven't made contact with soap or water in a very long time. DIIIRTY! And the air in there is always warm and humid - intensifying the rotten smell. And the water at the taps is ICE cold all the time. It's an awful, unclean place. On the upside, the soap dispenser, water faucet, and paper towel dispensers are all hands-free, but even after I wash my hands, I'm sure to use one of the various, also hands-free hand sanitizer dispensers on the way back to my workspace.

Sick.









O

Custom Interior by Power Rangers - NOT CUTE!

What is this new trend sweeping the country? Or maybe it's widespread poor parenting? Why on earth are Moms and Dads letting their children sticker up the inside windows of their cars?!??

• Green hair? Sure! Dye it! It will grow out!
• Wear plaid with polka dots? Go for it!
• Put your shoes on the wrong feet? I'll probably point out your error, but that is all you, kiddo.
• Chew on your shirtsleeve until it's wet up to the armpit? Whatever, just not on picture day!
• Pick your nose? That's gross, use a tissue! And don't you dare eat it!
• Wear a banana sticker on your forehead? Awesome! I like it!

Sticker up the inside window of my $40,000 car? Just imagining it, I have to count to 10 and breathe carefully just to keep from screaming.

I think it's yet another over-indulgence that some parents go too far with these days. How can you teach your child to respect other people's property, if they can't respect yours? A car of all things? And don't cry to me about "fostering your child's creativity", and "not wanting to stifle" them by saying "no" too often. THIS is not at all about that - but that line is SO blurred these days...

Yeah, yeah... I know. A razor blade will take them right off but the principal of it is still so wrong!

I would have lost an arm (or at least a finger) AND I would have lost the privilege of ever even looking at another sticker until I was of legal voting age. I'm sure there would have been a healthy dose of "What are you? An idiot?" shame thrown in there too!

Get a grip!








O

Evolution

The whole reason I started blogging was because of two or three blogs I frequently read (check out my "Also good for your head..." section). I feel corny saying these bloggers inspire me but that is the truth. I usually follow a blog if:

1. ..it makes me laugh
2. ..it makes me think
3. ..it makes me mad
4. ..it makes me reason out exactly why I disagree with it
5. ..it teaches me something
6. ..it makes me nod vehemently at the computer screen in utter agreement

The # 1 indicator of how moved I am by a blog is my tendency to comment on it.

The Pongo Blog is my favorite one to comment on, and that may be a reflection of the year I've had leading up to today (being my first day of a new job that I feel hopeful about). Despite attaining gainful employment, I will now always follow Pongo's blog, like a dear old friend.

I continue to follow bloggers that I often disagree with because of their amazing ability to open my mind with their smart and insightful writing. I'm struck by how much those bloggers make me fully understand my own opinions.

Penelope Trunk is definitely one of the best out there. Her recent post 5 Emerging trends from the recession is a reminder of why I follow her.

Previously, I had only blogged informally on MySpace or Facebook so it meant something entirely new to be setting up a standalone blog here on Blogspot. Somehow, it's more out there than MySpace or Facebook, but not by much.

Before Georgia turned one, if you told me I would soon find time to blog I would have shredded your face with my sharp, exposed nerves. "Blog? HA! I can hardly find time to poop most days! Blog, sure! Hmphft!"

When I started, I wasn't sure I would write enough or like enough of what I wrote. I didn't tell friends and family about it, other than a key few. I wanted people who don't love me (strangers) be the ones to comment on and weigh in on what I was saying. I approached blogspot as a testing ground. It has helped me determine that I can and do blog regularly.

I'm not sure where I will go with this but I am really enjoying the journey. I don't want to be a mommy blogger but I sure do blog about parenthood. I don't want to be a professional development blogger, but I have spent plenty of words on my work life. I am not sure what my blogging identity is yet, and I don't feel any real pressure to define it.

What are your favorite blogs and why?










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Heartbreaker...

Wil's cousin Daniel is 10 years old and Wil thinks he is the GREATEST thing ever.

When we're all together, Wil is always trying to engage Daniel and impress him. Daniel is right at that age when being cool to a 3 year old is SO NOT cool, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. Wil is so sweet and pure and so far from jaded in his thinking that he fully expects his big cousin to think his green stegosaurus undies are completely exciting and fantastically cool when poor Daniel just wants to melt into the carpet for having seen a 3 year old's gear so unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Wil doesn't have the complex social skills of knowing to be embarassed when he doesn't get the reaction he expected. He just moves on. My heart breaks everytime knowing the day is coming where he will "get it" and feel small about it. I guess that is part of how we learn to be appropriate. This is one of those lessons I can't foster myself and it has to play itself out for Wil to really know.

My plan is to bring up a unique kid and to teach him to always feel cool, no matter what anyone else thinks! That sort of confidence convinces others - we've all seen it. We all know somebody like this. That poster in the counsellor's office at your Junior High, "Dare to be different! Dare to be yourself!", it really works for some kids and I want to teach that as much as I'm able to.

What breaks your heart for your children?









O

How to amuse me...

Justin was asking me about the health of his skin the other day. I think he's been experimenting with eye creams, sssh! His skin HAS changed drastically in the last 5 years, as expected, when he's spent 12 hours per day, 6 days a week outdoors in the blistering sun or wretched cold. I pester him constantly about moisturizer and SPF. To be compelling, this time I brought up Dog The Bounty Hunter. While I love Dog (and especially Leland), he occasionally sports the look of a Shar Pei.

Justin was quiet for about 15 seconds...




Then he wondered aloud if Dog had a place at the top of his dresser where he stores his roach-clip leather strap beaded/feathered hair inserts. He wondered if Dog clips them onto something the way a woman would hang necklaces from a jewelry tree. Then he wondered if Dog had maybe been to a flea market and possibly spotted some unearthly contraption that he could use for storing said roach-clip accessories. Then he wondered who makes the roach-clip accessories and how the feathers actually stay attached during all that action. Do you think it's glue? twine? metal wire? I mean, how do the feathers not get lost? Do you think he has to go home and repair them from time to time? Then he talked about door-to-door Kirby vacuum salesmen.

I couldn't breathe for the laughing.








O

You too can control the elephants in your head!

I recently wrote about lists and what they could say about our mental health. I started to brush upon the topic of self awareness, but I scrapped it so the blog wouldn't ramble.

I got fired up about it again when I saw Jonah Lehrer (02/05/09) on The Colbert Report. He talked about humans and decision making. He said, "The emotional brain generates gut instincts and intuition. The rational brain deals with facts. Humans tend to filter the world to confirm what they already believe. It's nice to have your preconvceived notions confirmed BUT it's important to be aware of those flaws so you can counteract them. It takes real work to control the elephants inside your head."

Mr. Lehrer talked specifically about the pilot who recently landed that flight in the Hudson - how he had to overcome his gut instincts and fear and let his training produce a deliberate, rational [and more safe] decision. He discusses, "metacognition (thinking about thinking) to see if you're thinking the right way and adjust your thought process."


I am the sort of person who doesn't like the idea of my habits being the boss of me. I will intentionally quit drinking Diet Coke for long periods just to make sure I am still in charge. I try to mix up my routines to make sure I can still cope without the comfort of my creature comforts. I thrive on structure and organization but I force myself to wing it sometimes. I do this to delay or counteract the inevitable, which for me is becoming my Nana who is so O/C that she has to check the lock 7 times with her left hand and 7 times with her right hand just to be able to leave the house.

My husband is a constant litmus test for my self-awareness. He is the most random thinker you ever met. He often bounces from task to task, never fully finishing any of it until he is good and damn ready to! When we started dating, I had a very serious management job with a very large company. I was the classic definition of a type A, over-achiever, control freak. Justin taught me how to drink beer and float down the river on an inner tube on a Sunday afternoon even if my work wasn't done, and honestly, that down time made me even more effective on the job. He taught me how to relax and enjoy the fruits of all my labor. To this day, I know this has everything to do with why I married him.

The year he decided to become a realtor, I worried constantly that he didn't have the self-discipline for it. A year later, when he decided to become a contractor, I stayed in a frenzy with nightmares of living in a half finished house our whole lives. Justin can be explained like this: He has the money, but forgets to pay the bills. I couldn't trust the floor I was standing on until I saw that his methods have a madness that work, FOR HIM. He's built a very nice business, and his customers (not surprisingly) love him and his solid work. As his back office, I can't stand him (where business is concerned). Our differences still seperate us, but I have learned to TRY a different way of thinking - and I think it has saved our relationship more than once.

Self awareness can be hard, but nothing worth having comes easily. I think self awareness is like a locked door that you are holding the key to. The only thing standing in the way of opening the door is your will to turn the key.

It's like packing your kitchen when you move. It looks really scary because there is a ton of shit to sort through, but it's all familiar shit and you know exactly which items to put in the garage sale pile and which items you should keep.

When we go on vacation, I always spend the prior week a bit hysterical - freaking out, making lists, doing mass amounts of deep cleaning, laundry, paying bills and running errands as if I were preparing to leave the country for 3 months. It's just my method! While not totally pleasant, I always know it's coming so I indulge a bit and plan for the craziness every time. I try to use it for good instead of evil.

My self awareness is in knowing that I get this way because I won't truly relax while I'm on vacation if I know there are rotting dishes in the dishwasher and I'll obsess about that damp towel molding in the hamper. It's my way of making sure the vacation succeeds. I know I'm going too far when I start trying to give away food that will still be perfectly good by the time we get back. When that Jessee arrives, I have a little talk with her about chilling the fuck out! "Put the stick of butter back in the fridge! Be the change you want to see!" And it works.






O

My Acid-Washed thoughts

I am NO beacon of fashion, not by any stretch. I am known for my campy, outdoorsy style of dress. You could dress me straight out of the REI store or Sierra Trading Post catalog most days. Khakis or jeans, plain white t-shirts/sweaters, layered with some Royal Robbins vest or a hoodie, finished with some super-hip Keen shoes. The most I do is make an attempt to keep the cut and style of my boring clothes updated, as in, my jeans and khakis are low rise/boot cut with the right wash. That said, here goes...

It is my belief that denim has a very limited place in sane society. I am always horrified when I see denim things other than jeans or jackets. Purses, scrunchies (which denim or not should be outlawed, sorry Berger!), shoes, baby bags, vests, couches, throw pillows, duvet covers, etc.

Oh, and baby denim is a whole other issue. I think baby denim is some of the worst denim. If your baby can't wear jeans that are modeled after the current style of adult jeans yet, just hold off. Cutesy or novelty denim is neither CUTE nor NOVEL.

Occasionally, denim jackets can be questionable. They never top off a pair of jeans. Khakis? Sure. Corduroys? Why not! Madras plaid shorts? Go for it! More denim? NEVER! Denims almost never match each other, and should not be forced together. It is impossible to match denims unless it's an actual outfit, sold as a unit. Matchy-matchy denim is even more concerning, unless you're J.Lo and you can actually pull it off - but I still doubt it. And, let's be honest, even J.Lo hasn't done that since she was dating Puffy.

So, ease up on the denim, and if you really feel fondly about the item in all its bedazzled glory, hold onto it for when your BFF throws a kitschy "white-trash" party. Hey, don't kill the messenger, I'm just trying to save the fashion police a trip to your home or place of employ.

Oh! And since you've read this far, you should be rewarded with a free fashion tip: Your shoes and handbag should generally NOT match! That classic fashion move will probably make a permanent comeback someday, but for now, it screams that you're a little fashion backward. Even I know this!

We all have some embarrassing, prized denim item, let's hear about it! I'll go first: My item is a pair of Guess overalls that I still hope will come back into style so I keep them in my attic.









O

Insane much? Consult your to do list!

Terri has referenced LISTS in more than one comment on this blog. I'm not sure she noticed herself doing that but it got me thinking. I use lists for comfort, decision making, organization - whatever, it's kind of how I run my life. So, I thought I would blog about it.


As great as lists are, there is a very dangerous edge to them. I manage pretty well, but my Mom, OH GOD! And that is what I could potentially become. At my age, my Mom used lists in all the good, productive ways. She was a master-lister! If I didn't inherit the list trait biologically, I learned it from her. I hope I continue to learn from her, but this time - I want to learn what NOT to do.

Mom and lists have a co-dependent relationship. I've busted her making lists on fast food bags, napkins, torn envelopes from incoming mail, notebook paper with peanut butter stains. She makes lists of lists she needs to condense or re-write. She keeps the most recent lists in a pile on her kitchen table, where she sits most of the day. She will make a list and then start a new list just by changing the direction of the paper, that is she'll start writing kitty-corner. All of that concerns me, but what really freaks me out is the nature of the items she sometimes puts on her lists. It can be entirely indicative of what kind of emotional health she is in at any given moment. Things like: "Do laundry" or "Feed dog". I know, RIGHT!!!


She CAN consciously tell you that it seems insane not to just feed the dog, but rather to put it on a list for herself. Note to reader: The dog's food and bowl are not 4 steps from the kitchen table where she is writing the list. She CANNOT consciously tell you why she adds it to the list rather than just do it. And, I often ask her if when she cleans the bathroom or does the laundry, does she track down that tattered list and cross that item off to enjoy the satisfaction of being closer to the goal of finishing the list! The answer is no, she doesn't because she is not using lists in a healthy way, not using lists to attain goals. She is using lists under the pretense of clearing the clutter in her brain - but it's backfiring in the most mentally ill way. She knows it and still cannot help herself.


She tries to hide the pile when I come in unannounced - it's a little game of ours, but I always feel like I'm shaming her. Not a nice feeling. I've attempted to give her a "system" or help her get back to her own "system", the one that used to keep her life running well too - but nothing sticks anymore. Kinda scary...especially when you consider that my mom personally coined the (oh-god-I-can't-believe-I'm-telling-you-this) phrase: J-F-D-I! A sick twist on Nike's "Just Do It" campaign! I'm sure you can guess what the F was for! I shit you not, this phrase is an actual member of the family.


I can see writing what seems like a task you wouldn't be able to overlook (like Laundry) on a calendar, as in: Monday is "Laundry day" or Tuesday is "Grocery day" but how effective is a list of day-to-day chores? Pretty much, if you don't have the self awareness to regularly notice and respond to the fact that you're running low on skivvies - you need SO much more than a list!


I think people in my family have that perfection disease like that lady on Oprah - you let your life/house get trashed because if you can't do something perfectly - Fuck it, why bother! I totally identify with that line of thinking - but as a responsible human, you need to avoid pits like this by consciously managing yourself. Call it positive thinking or whatever blows your hair back, but really... when you feel yourself approaching the cusp of this vortex of list writing or paralyzing perfection, DO SOMETHING different with the energy that is pushing you in that direction. It's a perfect example of a time when NO DECISION is the WORST DECISION.


So make lists, but make lists that make sense and that make your life easier, not more complex and unclear.



What are your lists like?

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If only it were only money!

Blogs and articles like this one (be sure to read the comments as well as the blog itself) TERRIFY me even more than I already am scared of this recession. I was laid off January 2nd and my husband is a contractor/realtor so our shit hit the fan a while ago.

Amazingly - we are making it. Also amazing, we are not killing each other or the children despite the fact that two workaholics have never had so much time at home on their hands. As scared as I am, we do our level best to enjoy this weird downtime.

I AM that girl who is UNABASHEDLY stalking recruiters and hiring managers who give me their business card at the close of the interview that I just dumbed myself down for. AARGH! At least that article let's me know they understand.

I am in this horrible kind of donut hole and as evidenced by the recent growth in the size of my ass, I'm apparently trying to eat a tunnel through the donut that is trapping me. There are no jobs in my field or at my level in my area. I am far too qualified for the few openings that are out there. Oh, I get interviews and I nail them, but it feels sorta crappy to under-sell myself, to scratch and claw for a job I can't afford to take. Employers in my area are laying off en masse and the few available jobs will be absorbed soon.

With acquisition and new hire training costs per employee starting around $25,000, I don't entirely blame these employers who have statistical data compelling them to doubt my commitment.

So, I'm panicked alot lately and I calm myself by saying "It's only money - I can live in a soup can and eat cardboard as long as I have my family and my health." I firmly believe this. It's not some mantra that I aspire to. It's at the core of me. I KNOW THIS IS TRUE but...

The problem with this sentiment is that I cannot surrender today and just go back to zero. If we could sell our house or car and not be upside down - we'd do it tomorrow, no TODAY! If we could press a button and be in a shitty but affordable rental with everything in our lives scaled down to what is appropriate for our "present budget", I'd be grateful, relieved, and happy to be there. I would not feel one bit resentful. No part of me is afraid of rebuilding, of working hard to get back up there. But it doesn't work like that does it? What I do fear is working so hard and losing it all despite that. So sure, it's only money but how do I give it back? I can't, so I strive to make every day work fighting the one idea that will save me... It's only money...

So, in an effort to spread positivity rather than just war stories, what are you doing in this economy to keep things positive?





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Suck on this RED PEN, helicopter parents!

My sister's recent blog post involving bedroom performance ratings mixed with parenting (I don't know how she can crossover like that, but she does!) made me want to write about the old adage and the newest spin on it: Spare the rod, spoil the child?! It makes me a little sick.

While I may not endorse the rod, I think there is an effective way to parent firmly, with love and boundaries, rules, and expectations that prepare them for the world!

As a parent I think we must use RED INK and quantitative grading. We must be disappointed and be mad at our children when appropriate. Let them discover the feeling of losing and NOT getting a trophy anyway. They SHOULD develop a taste for vegetables and healthy, whole foods as babies because it will likely follow them their whole life. You CANNOT let them eat whatever they want and expect or assume they will "outgrow" it later.

All of these modern "positive" parenting tenets (helicopter parenting) are COMPLETE HORSESHIT! These parents scare the shit out of me! They say, "Oh, what about his feelings? I hate to see him cry when he doesn't seem to understand the punishment!". Oh, dumb, dumb parent: Believe me, he understands it - and if not by name, by feel. If he fails to understand it, it's your fault because you haven't given him the chance to. You're so afraid of how he'll "feel" that you're skipping over the lesson to be learned!

I cannot believe how unprepared for the real world young adults are these days and parents are creating this problem. Cut the apron strings!! If children cannot delineate between success and failure, or take a bad situation and make it a winning outcome - how will they even get to the point where they should have kids themselves?

I saw this mission statement in a high school on Friday night, it went something like: "Empowering students through education to become productive, responsible members of society." It made me wonder what their specific methods are, because I sure do like the sound of that but what I see them churning out these days is not THAT! I have a sister about to graduate high school and have been involved with her soccer seasons. I recently worked with plenty of the <24 age group, and it's consistent.

We have a huge responsibility to our children and sheltering them is to essentially retard them. Shock, loss, bad grades, a tough boss - all REAL things in the world. The sooner they learn to COPE with that and OVERCOME it, the sooner they will succeed in life.

Our job is to teach them to COPE and OVERCOME, not protect or shield them from all negative impacts in life. OH I GET SO HOT ABOUT THIS...

And it begs the question: Where are these parents? Who are they? Everyone I know who is having kids, or even not having kids believes in reality parenting, preparation for the real world. Generational experts say much of this will change when these kids become parents, that parents often parent in ways that are contradictory to the way they were raised. I say,
let's hope!





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Mamma's, let's talk...

Please know, I thought long and hard about how to bring this up without being cruel or unfair. We all have our personal tastes and styles and I'm a proponent of live and let live, until you and your behaviorally challenged children annoy me in the grocery store, aisle after aisle. So, if you don't like this post, chaulk it up to you and I agreeing to disagree. Sorry in advance for any offense that may occur.


Names like Nevaeh, Destiny, and Kiearah, and Brianna, Braden, Tyler, Taylor, Caden, Connor, Preston, Paxton, Peyton, and Jayden - are beyond trendy but they're horrible names on top of that.

Some of the problem is the way they are prounounced...
"BREEEEEAAAAAHHHHNNNAAA!" in a nasally whine...
OH GOD! SCRATCH MY EYES OUT!

I grew up with a fairly traditional but at the time very trendy name (Jessica) and it drove me nuts. By the time I was in 4th grade there were about 30 Jessica's in my elementary school. The rest were named Jennifer, Lisa, Michelle or Amy. All of us hated it! To add insult to injury - we all had the same two middle names: Marie or Ann.

I know that not everyone wants a traditional name, or they're going for something unique but lift your head out of the sand. These names are so overused right now - Are you intentionally naming your kids after Britney's?

I do have a list of names that I find fundamentally acceptable, and in some cases I really like them, but I cannot believe the amount of overuse they get right now:

Addison

Grace

Lily

Emma

Emily

Hannah

Rose - more as a middle name

Olivia

Ava

Reece (girl or boy)

Savannah

Tristan

Connor

Brody

Brady

Abby

Violet

Jack and Jackson and Jaxon and Jax'n

Maggie

Madison

Tyler

Taylor

And you thankfully never hear these anymore - I can't imagine naming a little baby any of these names, even knowing they won't be a baby forever.

Judy

Ruth

Barbara

Linda

Carol

Ethel

Gladys

Harold

Cathy (Not Catherine, Cathleen, etc. - just Cathy)

Alice

Nancy

Willard

Fred

Clarence

Lawrence, and any form of it

Walter

Albert

Arthur


My advice on avoiding ridicule or regret while naming your child:
1. Open the baby names book and really read it!

2. Research your family lineage and find something solid and timeless, even unusual.

3. Consider how the child will feel about the name at age 15, 20, 25, and 40!
and

4. When you hear a name you love while pregnant, buy it off the person who is "claiming" it. I bartered with a bad-ass NorthFace jacket for my daughter's name AND now my sister feels like she had a huge part in naming her - Win/Win!

I really like the name Harriet (sort of old school but cute and unusual) but I could not name a girl Harriet Hatcher! I also really liked Piper with middle name Jane - I mostly liked that it would become nickname initials of PJ like my sister BJ (for Bonnie Jean) but I am grateful we didn't use that. I loved Jack Robert (JR for short) but I wouldn't have been able to stomach how many Jax, Jack, Jackson, Jaxons there are now.

Do you think anyone is going to take President Nevaeh or President Jayden seriously in about 40 years?

So, tell me your baby names and why you chose them....
Also, since I've opened this can of worms, it's only fair to let you openly criticize my children's names. In case you haven't caught them in previous posts, they are first and middle:

William Anderson
Georgia Cate








O

MY kind of motivational speaker!

"Life is short! Enjoy it while you got it! Can't be gottdamn ungrateful all the time!"

Katt Williams opened his latest comedy set, "It's Pimpin' Pimpin'!", recorded in May 2008 in Washington D. C. with that quote. I want to steal that rhyme and shout it to the world, and specifically tattoo it on the inner eyelids of a few people I know. That quote is the perfect set-up for the following show.

I make a point to tune in for all his shows because I think he is relevant, incredibly funny, insightful, and fantastically secure and confident for having such an odd stature and a fucked up head of hair.

His motto for this latest show is "You gotta take care of your star playa" (meaning yourself) and his point was the obvious "If you don't take care of yourself, who will?" but moreover, his point was "...what good can you do in the world or for others if you can't take care of your own sorry ass..." I love how he preaches about self-esteem and fairness (including race and crime and being famous and being poor/underprivileged). He preaches not to sweat the haters because the hater is the joke. He preaches to just fucking get over shit and move on in life.
His outlook is always positive, and that is my kind of talk.

He is not afraid to be corny. He is terribly mouthy but so humble, peaceful, and just fucking cool. I would love it if someone thought all of that about me. Is it weird that I aspire to be like Katt Williams, sans gun toting charges? Ok, maybe a mixture of Katt Williams and Bill Cosby. Why do I want to be a middle aged black man?

It's good to be here.

I am glad...

...the unusual freeze is over and normal Tennessee winter weather is back.

...to have a toddler/pre-schooler free weekend.

...to have had a few responses on jobs I'm pursuing.

...I'm having a FREE facial tomorrow.

...I have a warm house, nourishing food, and healthy, mad-funny children.

...to have a sweet new baby nephew and another sweet not-so-newborn baby nephew.

...to have mapped out a diverse 5k running trail!

...to spend this evening with my friends.

...have a sister I love and miss so much.

...the sister I love and miss so much is so in love with a guy who is so in love with her.

...to have goals and aspirations!

...to let Wil think he's eating a "teeny, tiny s'getti sandwich" if he so pleases.

...to be the person Justin misses and looks forward to coming home to.

...to have such a kick-ass public library.

...to have a trip to Mexico on the distant horizon.

...to be here, breathing in and out, everday.









O

Superpowers

Sometimes, I can just look at someone and KNOW their breath is awful.







O

Three mortifying days with a three year old heathen!

He is too smart for his own damn good. Wil has said/done the following things over the past three days. I always thought when I heard similar stories that someone had coached the child into the precocious thing he said or did but I know otherwise now.

On Saturday we were hanging out with my Grandparents, letting them spend time with the kids since we only see them a few times a year. My dad (Wil calls him Papa) was laying on the floor playing airplane with both kids. Wil was standing with his back to Papa playing with something on the table and Papa kept nipping Wil in the butt. Wil said "Stop it, Papa!" and my dad played coy, "What? I didn't do anything..." and Wil turned to keep playing. Papa did it again and played coy again - and Wil said "You're poking me in the ASS!" The killer was that he did not say it in a fresh mouth way, he was just using a word. He was annoyed with Papa, had no idea he even said a bad word! My jaw dropped and I stared at my grandmother who sorta laughed. Only in front of the Great Grandparents, right?!

On Sunday I was peeing while Wil was running around upstairs and he caught a glimpse of me finishing up on the pot. He said, "Mumma, do you pee out your butt?" I was honest but clinical as I explained that girls have vaginas and boys have penises. I verbally ran through an explanation where I matched his equipment up with Justin and Georgia's up with mine to give him a concept of the differences between boys and girls. He said "No, Mumma! Georgia has a penis too!"

On Monday Wil, Georgia and I were having breakfast (amazing scratch pancakes by Josh Jones) with Josh and Beej. We were seated around the dining room table in our pajamas and just chatting away. It was the one time during our visit to Nashville that Beej wasn't visible only from the eyes up (behind her laptop) and I wasn't chasing a wild ass kid around the house like a maniac - the first real quality time we'd all spent together. Wil stands up in his chair and says "Hey Uncle Josh, I have a big penis! See?" and pulls his thermal pants down and thrusts his hips forward. OH MY GOD!

How does Wil at age 3 even know that "big" is a preferred term with penis? Nobody talks to him about that stuff? He doesn't watch that kind of TV?

Beej LOST HER SHIT and laughed so hard she was snorting and hooting and heaving and crying. I snatched Wil up and took him into the bathroom, sat him down, and looked him in the eyes (trying so hard not to smile or laugh) and said "That was totally inappropriate behavior! You cannot show people your Penis at the breakfast table or anywhere else! It's private! You cannot do that..." and blah, blah, blah. He didn't miss a beat... He said "But Auntie BJ is laughing..." as if that made it okay. Hell, I was laughing! It was an impossible situation. Before we left the bathroom, I made him wash his hands.






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Suck it, Angelina Jolie!

I am disgusted by the elitism of Hollywood!


First of all, I wasn't even sure I believed that David Duchovny was ACTUALLY suffering from sex addiction when it made headlines that he checked into rehab last summer. I suspected it was a marketing strategy for Californication as opposed to a being side-affect of starring in that show. I was quite sure that in about 20 years he would reveal this little secret as being PR rather than a genuine personal problem. Why else would Tea Leone stand by, steadfast?


Secondly, what the fuck do I care what he does in his personal life? I sort of hate how the rehab affairs of celebrities are so public. It's literally the equivalent of rubber necking so you can see the gory details of a horrible car crash and then complaining how awful it was to see. That is a human life! He is a human being! It's rather indecent that there is a demand for this type of news, but clearly there is profit in this genre of information.


Third, who the F is Hollywood to snub him at the recent Golden Globe awards and look down on him "sadly"? It makes me like him or want to root for him even more!

Screw you Hollywood! All of you a-holes just need to jump on the indignant bandwagon already and quit acting! It's not as if any of you are saving the world either! Oh sorry! Except for you, Angelina! I forgot that you are Mother Theresa for the millenium. Please note, reader, I am being SO sarcastic, I can't stand Angelina - somebody needs to tell her that you can't buy grace, or dignity, not even in a third-world country.





O

Waiting in the bushes with my camera...

Justin is forever stealing lip balm from me. I normally use Burt's Bees or Neutrogena. I buy them in bulk because I am fairly addicted. It's a state of emergency if I can't get my hands on a stick. My lips start emitting actual flames and peeling in layers. I get coconuts about it even if I just applied some 5 minutes ago. To avoid this mess, I always keep a few tubes stashed in my purse and at least four others in various strategic areas of my house/desk/car.

Every Christmas, I get Justin a few of his own masculine tubes from Bath and Body Works and I warn him that at $7.50 per tube he better keep up with them like he does his wallet/cell phone, but he never does. Throughout the year, I buy him Carmex or some dude version of Blistex to keep him in stock. These lip balms are left untouched, on his dresser until they roll off the dresser into the worm hole underneath it. When we move, I expect to find a stash that I can re-gift in his Christmas stocking for years to come. It's something psychological... It's the same thing as Georgia preferring the food on my plate to the food on her plate even though it's the VERY SAME FUCKING FOOD!!

Invariably, I find MY precious tubes in odd places and when I uncap them to get a hit (upon sight of any lip balm, even in a movie, I immediately need some), the balm is mangled and mushy. It is actually dirty in the crease where the cap snaps on. It's as if he chewed on it for a minute, rubbed it on some sandpaper, and then rolled it through a dirty ashtray before leaving it for dead. I call them dead soldiers. IT REALLY PISSES ME OFF! It is wasteful and disgusting! Why are boys so damn gross!?

Burt's Bees makes a Shimmer Stick in some cute, very pale colors. I am resolving to use nothing but this brand/style because not only is it good stuff, and Justin will avoid it, but most especially because I KNOW the day will come when Justin's lips are burning off his face and he is so desperate for something that he'll use it! I'll be waiting in the bushes with my camera!

AHAHAHAHAAAAA!







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Bad AND Funny Parenting...

Since he turned 18 months old, Wil has been trying to give up his naps. We continued to push back and at least put him in his crib for quiet time if not actual sleep. Every month he got a little more wakeful and stubborn about not sleeping. On the days when I was lucky enough to trick him into sleep during naptime, he would lie in bed wide awake until 10 or 11pm, after being put to bed at 9pm.

I have to say that he normally sleeps a solid 12 hours at night, and doesn't wake until 8 or 8:30 am. Most of his classmates arrive at school by 7am, and many of them have been up for an hour at that point.

Contrary to popular belief in my family, I did NOT give up his naps easily. I tried everything! I really needed his naptime with a newborn baby around. I only finally gave it up once I realized I was spending a huge amount of my day (often 2 hours) fighting with a 2 year old who thought it was a very funny game to run out of his room, right into my waiting arms, only to have me put him right back in there - not matter how emotionless I tried to be. Often, he was more amped up from running and struggling with me after 30 minutes of naptime than he was when we went into his room. I blacked out his room in the most mortifying method: I taped a navy blue shower curtain liner to the glass of his windows, under a layer of plantation blinds which are covered by a double layer curtains. Oh, our neighbors totally love us for that one! I tried soothing stories, rocking him, and even lying down with him (although I firmly hated that one).

At times when I did get him to lie still in his bed, I would wait outside the door for labored breathing sounds and stillness. More than once I waited through complete stillness for 2 chapters of a book (at least 20 mins) and fully expected to celebrate my victory and when I'd peek in, DAMN if his eyes weren't open and now he saw me and the games begin again! I spent more time frustrated with Wil last summer than not, and the whole thing felt AWFUL.

Finally, I took the power away from him and stopped trying. If we didn't have a naptime to fight about, we could enjoy eachother more. I'm not sure he ever noticed it missing, other than both our moods improving. It also meant I put him to bed at least an hour earlier which was minor victory for me being a human being, not just a mom.

When he started pre-school I winced when I learned that by state law, the kids have to lie down (not necessarily sleep, but lie down) for a certain period each day. I figured he'd learn by watching the other kids. At first, he did okay but he slowly decended into no naps and playing the same games with his poor teachers. After many talks with the teachers, I was afraid he'd be asked to leave. One of the things the pre-school asked us to try was send notes in his lunchbox each day encouraging a nap. Justin and I take turns writing them, and sometimes I'll recruit Nana to do one just to keep it fresh for him.

Justin handed me the following note as I was packing Wil's lunchbox. I always feel a little intrusive if I read it, it seems private, but that is silly since the teachers have to read it to Wil. When I read it, I died laughing.

Clearly, it was a joke and Justin wrote another one for the lunchbox but we did post it on the refrigerator for amusement. Thankfully, Wil cannot read many words other than his name right now! I will put this is his baby book for his adult sense of humor!

PS: After the Christmas break, we started waking him up at 6 or 6:30am and putting him in our bed with the TV on PBS while we sleep for another hour or so. It works like a charm - he's totally taking naps at school now. SUCKER!




O

You think you know, but really you have no idea...

My best friend Amy and I have decided. The Office simply cannot be as funny for people who do not work in an actual office. Sure, we all identify and it's sortof funny even if you don't work in an office.

When you do work in an actual office, it's a 100% effective show. You nearly jump out of your skin it's so funny. It's all in the understated nuances and details that they portray so perfectly. You're missing so much unless you know these cues from working in an office.

I wanna be cool, tall, vulnerable, and luscious...

Kanye West's newest album 808s & Heartbreak is a crushing disappointment. It is SO reminiscent of the feelings I felt when taking in Liz Phair's 2005 album Somebody's Miracle.

I actually felt betrayed, maybe not by Liz or Kanye, but definitely by my senses. I felt my iPod's heart shudder with every new song during my initial listen. I always give an album from old faithfuls like these a fair number of passes before I really decide, but I think I already know.

In both cases, how do you put out consistently good and distinctively different albums for years on end, and then suddenly eek out a stubborn, cold, unyielding nugget of suck that no mother could love?

With Somebody's Miracle, I really, really tried to like it. I have LOVED every Liz Phair album prior to that and they all ranged in style - most distinctively 2003's self titled album where she got all shiny and mainstream. It was a bit Top40, but if you dismissed it for it's lack of indie integrity - you missed an amazing album, and seriously - get over yourself. We all have our fair share of embarrassing skeletons in our play lists (AHEM! Lionel Richie, anyone - Beej, anyone?!).

Incredibly, it took my local radio stations about a MONTH to realize she was saying FUCK in the song: "We haven't fucked yet but my head's spinning! Why can't I breathe..."

And hey, at least they're both brave enough to experiment. Most indie musicians or specialty artists could never sustainably bridge two markets (pop/country excluded but speaking of canned payola... oh never mind, I can feel the vomit rising).

Liz, you especially! I am still waiting for your recovery album. I have every confidence that it's coming, with others to follow. In your case, I think every blind squirrel finds a poison nut now and then. Let's hope...

Kanye, our relationship has less history than Liz and I. I find myself unconvinced but hopeful. I feel like you may deserve a pass after the freaky year you've had BUT... you remind me alot of a guy I know who continually uses every bad thing that happens to him as evidence that he is so much MORE of a tortured soul than anyone else on earth. His pain is worse than anyone else. His results are the highest anyone's ever seen. His outcomes are the most outrageous, it's indescribable. He cannot imagine that anyone can be as deep and as insightful as him. He imagines himself as being so isolated, so superior. HE IS EXHAUSTING. So, Kanye, go a little crazy, the year you've had warrants it - but then let it go OR move forward. Do not let this year further serve your sense of entitlement. You are not THAT talented, nobody is.




O

Where you'll find me...

1. I love to decorate but I have committment issues and no budget dedicated to it so there are no curtains in any room in my house other than the kids' room. I do have white plantation blinds on every window.

2. I wish people still made mix discs like they used to make mix tapes back in the day. When was the last time you got a really good mix disc out of the blue and you actually giggled with anticipation waiting for the next track to begin?

3. If I was famous, I'd want to be like Gwen Stefani.

4. I fall more in love with Justin every day.

5. I love the F word and Diet Coke almost equally. I use the F word gratuitously despite how vulgar it probably is. I drink enough Diet Coke to feel like I need to quit. I have quit before and I will again. I really just love love them both, they're like old friends.

6. It's funny how friends, times, life shifts so continuously that these braids are made and sometimes you're the outside band and sometimes you're on the inside band. I love that I can truthfully say that I still count the same friends I had beside me when I was 15 as currently present although the degrees of presence are always fluctuating.

7. I like to believe that I am super-flexible and laid back but I suspect that I do not love change as much as I wish I did and I'm high strung (in all the right ways!).

8. I am pissed that Victorias Secret no longer carries laundry detergent. WHAT THE FUCK!?




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Doing The Unstuck

I haven't been truly depressed since I was about 21. It started when I was about 19 and lasted about 18 months. I got help. I even took meds until it passed. My parents were super supportive. My friends stuck by me. Most days, I can barely remember it. I do remember it full force on days where depression threatens to darken my doorway again, but thankfully, those times are far and few between (maybe 2 or 3 days per year). It happens so rarely because following that depression, I learned alot about myself and what my triggers for depression are and smart ways for me to avoid them. Depression runs deep in my family so I constantly take proactive steps to stay ahead of that lurking shadow. I truly believe that decisions I make including the attitude I adopt about any given situation has more control over my brain than my family history does.

I dipped pretty low after Georgia was born and it FREAKED me out. It was such a huge contrast to how much joy I felt after Wil was born. The guilt of that contrast made me feel even more depressed. I mean, I'd just had a beautiful little girl and I could barely speak without hissing through gritted teeth. After I had Wil, my cheek muscles ached for MONTHS from the euphoric smiling. People probably thought I was high and I felt alot like I was. I was just so damn happy. Justin and I couldn't even wait the 4 weeks until my OBGYN gave us the green light... eeww! I know!

I knew it was not "normal" for me to feel that good all the damn time. We all wondered if motherhood just really agreed with me and maybe I'd found my purpose in life, and how damn ironic that it was motherhood. I truly enjoyed every moment of it.

That euphoria lasted until the morning sickness of Georgia's pregnancy set in - and after that passed, I felt my normal speed again. Not euphoric, but certainly not depressed. I was happy to be pregnant again, knowing it was probably the last time for us. I was relieved in alot of ways to be feeling normal again. Shiny-happy-Jessee was probably obnoxious.

I felt normal again, I was stressed at times, but no more so than during the pregnancy with Wil. I felt "normal" until about two weeks after I got home from the hospital with Georgia when things got dark. I never felt like a danger to myself or others, but I felt almost every other symptom underneath that on the post-partum depression warning poster. I could NOT stop crying.

When it was obvious that I wasn't snapping out of it, my mom, my sister, and my husband insisted that I go speak to someone. I just didn't want to. I totally support seeing a therapist and even taking meds when necessary, but I just didn't want to TALK. So instead of being verbal, I started exercising my head off!

If you know me, my choice to replace words with exercise was probably even more evidence that I was entirely off my rocker. I am active in general - there are times when I really embrace exercise in my life but I always fucking resent it. It pisses me off. Exercise and I remain respectful enemies. I know I need it, but I hate it the whole time. At one point, Amy and I used to take turns running to the stove to stir the cooking pasta between Tae Bo kicks and punches - so as not to delay dinner. But we totally took the Tae Bo seriously though. We (ok I) cut out photos of celebs from magazines and taped them up all around the living room as focal points for the punching and kicking spots.

I hadn't exercised with any regularity since before my pregnancy with Wil two years prior. Regardless, I decided I would try exercise before therapy. So - every day, I brought the kids to my Mom's and my Nike Free 5.0's (best running shoes in history), my iPod, and I really wrestled the demons out of me. It worked.

Week one: Strictly blind faith or fury - auto pilot
Week two: Noticeably better
Week three: I recognized myself again and laughed
Week four: I felt my version of "normal" again.


It felt really powerful to know I had the power to help myself like that. I've never identified with bulemia or anorexia being a way to control your environment but this exercise-to-fight-depression made it clearer to me. I was proud of myself for trying something else first when in my family, it seems that medicating (self or otherwise) seems to be the preferred method of dealing with emotional issues.

Whenever I think of that time after Georgia's birth AND/OR the time I was so depressed between 19 and 21, a song literally floods my brain... It's called Doing The Unstuck by The Cure:

kick out the gloom
kick out the blues
tear out the pages with all the bad news
pull down the mirrors and pull down the wall
stear up the stairs and tear up the floors
oh just burn down the house!
burn down the street!
turn everything red and the beat is complete
with the sound of your world going up in fire
it's a perfect day to throw back your head
and kiss it all goodbye

I am singing this song today...



O