A Rootin' Tootin' Good Time

I like to encourage Molly's creative spirit and spunk, but I may have taken a teeny weeny bit of offense when, during family movie night, she ran upstairs and returned with 3 face masks for Jake, Tom, and her cute little self.

Just because Mom might have had a little too much chili....sheesh!

p.s. This photo features her latest invention called "Comfiness on the Go." It has her blanket, pillow, tissue, snacks, and favorite pets right at her fingertips. For Christmas I think this girl needs a Snuggie.

Flashback Friday-- TMI

For Flashback Friday, we're digging into the archives for a post about one of my favorite subjects-- The Gyno. Originally posted 10-13-08.

With school in session, I can take care of a lot of things I put off during the summer, things I don't want to have the kids around for. I'm thinking haircuts, doctors' appointments, the dentist. This has not always been the case. If you are an at-home mom with little ones, you have probably taken your kids lots of places you wish you hadn't. Even a trip to the grocery store can be a major pain.

I remember taking both kids to the gyno with me when they were little. This, of course, would not have been my first choice, but circumstances prevented my getting a sitter that day and off we went. Now a pregnancy visit is one thing-- pee in a cup, the weigh-in, a little feeling of the tummy. This was an annual exam.

The waiting room wasn't bad, although I wonder if a few of the pregnant women were self-righteously thinking, "MY kids will never act like that!"
Does this happen to you? When the waiting room time is over, you think you're close to seeing a doctor, but instead you are tucked into a tiny examining room, told to strip, and then you wait for a seemingly interminable length of time. Maybe it just seems long because of the lack of pants.

When you are on your own, you can artfully fold your little pile of clothes on a chair, pull the paper robe around you and read old copies of Good Housekeeping. With an 18 month and a three year old in tow, you are simply on germ and damage patrol.

Keeping order in such a small space was nearly impossible for me. Within seconds, my neat pile of clothes hit the floor and Molly started caressing the Sharps container. When I got her away from that, she tried to lick the stirrups. Ugh. Three year old Jake was easier to restrain. Sure, at one point he opened the door to expose me in my paper-gowned glory to folks in the hallway, but I actually think that helped get the doctor in sooner.

During my exam, Jake asked, "Mommy, why does that man have his hand in your bottom?" Yikes. I quickly thrust an old National Geographic at him. "Here, read about the pretty zebras." My exam was brief, to say the least, and after the doctor's hasty retreat, I retrieved my clothes from the floor and began to dress.

Jake soon had another question, "Mommy, why are these people all bloody?" Yep, zebras may have been on the cover, but the magazine was documenting a massacre, in full color.

For those of you in the throes of toddlerhood and preschool, I wish for you unencumbered visits to the gyno, the dentist, and maybe even to get a pedicure. The day will come when you can do all these things on your own again. I know we aren't to wish away our kids' childhoods, but I think in certain circumstances it's okay.

Am I Projecting Loudly Enough For You?

So I woke up this morning pissed at the president. In my dream Barack Obama had dumped Michelle for a much younger and far inferior model. Instead of beating around the bush, “I did not have sex with that woman,” he immediately gave Michelle her walking papers and installed the young hussy in the White House.

I felt betrayed. What about all those “date nights?” The flirtatious dancing at the Inauguration? The fist bump that rocked a nation? Was it all a façade?

I love reading about history, but a lot I’ve read about presidential marriages upsets me. I liked the ideals of the Kennedy’s’ Camelot, and I LOVED the clothes. But the pill popping and sex swapping? Not my cup of tea!

I was hoping the Obamas would be different. Until last night.

Now you might wonder how Sasha and Malia figured into the dream. They didn’t even have a cameo. I think that MIGHT have been because a certain someone who had a milestone birthday this week, and who also likes to bare her arms in a fun sheath dress now and then, may have been relating solely with Michelle in this particular dream.

I mean that little hussy he brought in? Do I even need to describe her to you? A reality star wannabe? A celebrity in her own mind? So skinny and young she’d probably slip down the drain when she took a shower? A vapid vixen raised in the era of MySpace and “friends with benefits.” What was Barack thinking? Trading in Michelle, Princeton graduate, trailblazer, true partner and great mom for such a substandard replacement? Ugh.

I know Mr. Obama got a lot of female validation after those shirtless Hawaii photos came out. I know I certainly appreciated them. But no need to get so high on oneself you start to look elsewhere for a good time. Mr. President, we know Michelle’s been your rock in every way during the past 20 years. You need to get a grip.

I fully expect you to wise up and see the error of your ways. And to help, I’m turning in early tonight so you can start digging yourself out of this one.

Potential Pitfalls of Shopping Curbside?

I don't have any new projects to show you right now, but I thought this comic strip captured the not so lovely underbelly of my favorite way to shop. I'll be sharing it with other dumpster divers and thrifters at A Soft Place to Land.

I'm sure garages are overrated anyway.

And for those of you who like before and afters, here are some of my curbside and thrift shop finds from elsewhere on this blog:

buffet

suede chair

dresser turned console

assorted dumpster dives

dining room table and chairs

dining room table and chairs

black bedside tables

Getting Older I Am

I had been trying to figure out what my lips, complete with vertical wrinkes, looked like. Smoker's mouth? Marian the Librarian who had pursed one too many times?

Not quite.

Then my son and I spent a little quality screen time together last night:

It is all so clear now.

"An Inch of Gray Facebook Status Update Edition" OR, This Title is Longer Than This Post

Anna See is wondering why, in all these piles of laundry, so few of the clothes are hers.

You've Got A Lot of 'Splaining to Do

Tom’s and my all-time favorite show is “The Amazing Race.” Ever since the kids were little, Tom and I have watched it on Sunday nights and given them the play by play on Monday morning. By the end of the season, the kids have all sorts of opinions of who should win and why, but it’s sort of like old timey radio, since they aren’t actually watching with us.

Now that they are 10 and 8, we hoped we could watch as a family. Tom and I dvr-d the premiere to preview it. This show is modest by reality show standards--none of The Bachelor’s making out, bikinis, and “let’s take it to the next level” stuff --but there is cursing. Lots of frickin’ and freaking and crap and ass and even a bitch thrown in here and there. That was enough for us to veto the kids watching last season.

I know I would curse too if Tom and I were trying to race around the world for a million bucks-- we argue when we try to go downtown for dinner. Put me on a bus in India? I don’t even want to think of my reaction, but that doesn’t mean I want my kids to hear foul language.

Then there are the couples they choose. One year there was a controlling husband who seemed borderline abusive to his former Playmate wife. And each year, it seems, there’s a gay couple. Now before you go and call us haters, let me just say please don’t. We just don’t feel like having to do a lot of ‘splaining during our reality show escape. I didn’t feel like explaining the gravity defying, enormous boobs of several contestants last year, but that doesn’t mean I’m anti-implant.

If you’ve noticed with these reality shows, whichever way a couple has been labeled at the beginning comes back time and again throughout the competition. Last year we had a mother/son team in which the son was deaf. They’d show a competition and then cutaway to the mini-interview: “As a deaf person, how did today’s challenge effect you?”

I think it will be the same this year with an interracial couple, a team who has a member with Asperger’s, and the dating born again Christians. This painfully pretty couple, on one of their mini-interviews said, “We are committed to being chaste so we aren’t going to have sex before marriage.” I imagined sitting there with Jake and Molly. “Well, duh. Of COURSE they aren’t having sex, and none of these other people are either.” I mean, how many times this season will their sex life, or lack thereof, be mentioned?

So, even though the language in the first 5 minutes meant that we probably wouldn’t be watching this season as a family, we were wondering if we’d have more gay contestants. We’ve had the lesbian ministers (boring!), the stereotypical middle-aged gay couple who made a strategic mistake by choosing to stay in a quaint little resort celebrating how far ahead they were but ended up last. Last year we had the gay father/son. They were our faves and we hated to see them eliminated.

As they introduced the couples this season, “Inter-racial couple!” “Best Friends Since Childhood, one of whom has Aspergers!” “Married Yoginis” “Dating On and Off for Years—Will he Commit? (NO.), Professional Poker Players!”… we saw one more couple coming down the pike. They were male. They were young. They were hot and well groomed. Could it be? “Brothers!” Tom and I high-fived.

Cutaway to the mini interview: “So how did it feel to come out to each other as Gay Brothers?”

Oh well.