Word To Your Mutha

Oh honey, are you lost?

2008-04-09T20:01:00.002-07:00

Oh sweetie, you haven't heard? I've moved to MuthaMae.com

http://muthamae.com

Come on over. It's fun!

Mutha Mae Dot Com Now Live!

2008-04-06T20:35:00.001-07:00

Helloooooo, guess what?

MuthaMae.com is now live.

GO GO GO!!!

They Hain't No Hair On My Sheelee Dawg

2008-03-28T10:16:00.018-07:00

Come back on Monday when my brand new website goes live with a new video show. MuthaMae.com

"Give me an R! Arrrrrrrr, Mateys!"

Conversation between myself and my four year old in a crowded women's restroom this
afternoon. I had just used the facilities and was pulling up my pants. Boo was in the stall with me:

Boo: Mommy!
Me: Boo!
Boo: Mommy! You have hair!
Me: (Shaking my head around) Yes, I do. See!
Boo: No! You have hair ON YOUR BUTT!
Me: (knowing what she meant but pretending I didn't) How unfortunate. Come on, let's go.
Boo: Mommy! Mommmy! Pull down your pants!
Me: No.. Boo. Come on, let's go.
Boo: Pull down your pants! I want to see that hair!
Me: Enough, Boo, let's goooooo.
Boo: You have such a hairy butt!!

We then walked to the sinks to wash our hands. There was a lady next to us who was trying so hard to hide her amused face.

Boo turned to the lady and said, "My mommy has such a hairy butt. Do you have a hairy butt, too?"

Well, my lovely McChickies, I don't know if I'm going to update here again until my new site is finished. MuthaMae.com. I dunno. It might take a few weeks. There's so much to do. Eh, check back next week. Updating here will depend on my mood and if I'm all pissy because my new site isn't up yet. Such a diva.

Here's a vlog entry.

WTYM The Show. Part 2 Magnet School Lotto

2008-03-24T18:52:00.008-07:00

Alright, alright, alright already! Here's a new episode of my show. There was a glitch, the ending got screwed up and I had to re-shoot and re-cut the ending tonight. BUt that's ok! This one is much better. GOod combination of the vlog with the show, what do you think? Agree agree? Watch it again, why not? You can never have too much Mutha. Shhh don't reply to that.

If you're new, go to my YouTube page and watch the Nixon Birthday party my friend threw for her Nixon obsessed for year old. Do it first, then come back here and watch this one. I'm so bossy and we've just met! Damn! It's the best show yet. Oh, but the one posted below is good. It's just not Nixon birthday party good. Ya know? Yeah you do.

Ok ok ok. So the new intro...
When Miss Boo was a baby, I'd take time each month to record her voice with my home studio equipment. It's such the geeky voice over talent thing to do, but I'm so glad I did. I have an audio progression of her verbal skills as they developed.

Boo as a baby

The first recording took place when she turned 12 months old. I put her on my lap, moved the microphone over to us and asked, "Whose show is this?"

To my surprise, she answered, "Mama!"

I was thinking about that today when a light bulb broke itself over my head. Hello stupid! Whose show IS this? Mama's show!

I suddenly had the perfect audio sample to edit into my show opening.

Word To Your Mutha The Show. Show #10. Part 2 of Magnet School Lottery Update. About 6 minutes long.

Perez Hilton Gives Mae A Heart Attack

2008-03-24T13:43:00.008-07:00

So I go to get the Boo from school. Come home. Find two messages on the answering machine. Weird. No one calls me.

Play the first message. It's my pal Katie. "Mae, oh my god. OH MY GOD! You're on Perez Hilton! YOUR VIDEO IS ON PEREZ HILTON!!!" And Katie is gasping, she's so excited and stammering as she tries to explain that she opened her Google Reader to read a Perez update and there I am under, "You must watch this!" And it's the fondu restaurant vlog entry!

It's the fondu restaurant vlog entry????

So in my mind, I'm going, "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD this is it. THIS IS IT! FINALLY people will watch my damn videos!" But there was also this nagging voice going, "The fondu vlog entry? On Perez? This does not compute. This does not compute." Then my brain exploded.

I rush to the computer to check, all while calling Matt and yelling that I'm on Perez Hilton. Matt and I are both checking out the site. Page after page. Lots of stars. Lots of gossip. No Midwestern stay at home mom wanna be fame whores.

I call Katie and yell, "KATIE! I WENT TO SCHOOL TO GET BOO AND IN THAT TIME I MADE IT ON PEREZ HILTON????? But where am I on Perez Hilton?"

Katie replied in a little voice, "I'm so sorry. You didn't. My Google reader must have cached your video and put it in the place of the actual video Perez was promoting. Sorry."

OH, bummer. For 2 minutes of my life, I knew what it felt like to become an overnight sensation.

It felt so good.

Katie and I continued to chat and the mail came. It's an envelope from the school district. The only reason they mail is to tell you that YOUR KID GOT INTO THE MAGNET SCHOOL! OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!

No.

It's a notice for an upcoming seminar for parents.

Oh bummer. For 1 minute of my life I knew what it felt like to have a kid in the Magnet school district.

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.

Click to enlarge and you'll see why Katie thought what she did!

Actually we're quite off

2008-03-20T15:36:00.008-07:00

Miss Boo has a new favorite show. The Fairly Odd Parents.

Boo: Can I watch that one show?
Me: Which show, Boo?
Boo: The Faerie Odd Parents?
Me: The Fairly Odd Parents?
Boo: Yeah. The Barely Off Pants.
Me: Want to try for one more, Boo?
Boo: The Barely Off Parents!

There will be a new episode of Word To Your Mutha The Show on Monday. Part 2 of the Magnet School series.

There might be a new vlog entry tomorrow or this weekend. Not sure of that yet.

Until we meet again in this kooky online world, take care, my internet lovelies. All 38 of you. Wish I was kidding. Sadly I'm not.

The women I love, oh how they hurt me

2008-03-20T13:08:00.013-07:00

Oh the ladies of my life.

Today we met up with Boo's friends from her preschool class at a bounce warehouse place here in town. It's a big room filled with bouncie castles and slides. It's about 8 bucks a person for unlimited bounce time and it's FUN. The workout alone is worth the admission price.

I was so psyched to spend time with my oldest girl. I pictured us holding hands and bouncing and giggling and sliding and having the best time. Just like we did the last time we went. About this time last year. Her friends were there that time, but Boo wanted to stick with me.

Today Boo and I were the first ones in the place. We threw off our shoes and ran for the biggest slide and slid down a billion times. We bounced, we laughed, we had fun. For ten minutes. Then her friends walked in and I didn't see her again for three hours.

Oh, I SAW her. I made sure I knew where she was at all times. But did she want anything to do with me? Noooooo! "Boo, come on! Let's go bounce! Come on everyone, let's go bounce. Let's race down the slides. It will be FUN!" Her friends were into that idea and would grab my hand and go YAYYY! Boo would roll her eyes, grab the hand of her friend back, and take off in the opposite direction.

The knife that went through my heart! Ouch!! How badly does that hurt??! No one told me it happened this soon. Why didn't they warn me? She's four. I thought there was a lot more time before mommy wasn't wanted.

After bouncing, we headed home. My mother was watching the babies so Boo and I could have our alone time. Now I know if I want alone time with Boo, make a date ALONE WITH BOO!! Lesson learned, thank you.

I asked my mother when we'd be seeing her on Easter Sunday. We always get together to dye eggs and watch Boo find eggs and then have lunch and family time. My mother informed me she wouldn't be participating in Easter this year. She and the boyfriend are having lunch, then a quiet afternoon. They are not interested in spending time with the girls on Easter.

Again with the knife into the heart!

My mother is pulling away from our family. It's a reality that has been hard to face, but must be faced. She cannot balance the boyfriend and being a grandmother. I don't know if it's his deal or her deal or both of their deals. She is my mother and will always be my mother even when she breaks my heart, which she does on a regular basis but she's her and I'm me and life goes on and I'll have a great Easter with my girls and Matt. The end.

And this is me. Always longing for family. Always longing for love. Always longing for validation. Anyone surprised I want to be a performer?

Mutha Monday- out to dinner

2008-03-17T11:08:00.010-07:00

Thanks for the kind words about the vlog experiment I am doing. Writing your blog entry is soooo 2007! Heh. Yeah, I'm hooked. I'll get bored soon. Old skool blogging returns soon.

A new episode of Word To Your Mutha- my actual video show- will air on Monday. Part 2 of the Magnet School series. But here's a little vlog entry to tide you over until then.

WELLLLL Matt and I went out to dinner this weekend. We went to a fondu restaurant. We took the camera. Because my husband shows his love by putting up with my crazy ideas! How many other husbands would allow a camera to document their love anywhere else but the bedroom? Ewww no vlogging about that please! While at dinner, we turned on the camera and I commented between courses so as not to ruin the entire evening. Show of hands of who feels sorry for my husband?

The next six minutes proves that Matt and I will never be offered our own reality show. And there's nothing like celebrating weight loss by gaining it all back in one seating. Eatertainment indeed!

Vlog #4 All Better Now

2008-03-14T18:41:00.009-07:00

Today I was at a public play date kinda thingie. Man, I am el-o-quent. It was just me and babies and some of my pals and their babies by one wall and a large group of moms we didn't know by the other wall. I said to my pals, "Hey, I wonder if that's a moms group?" And I kept asking. And asking. And finally my friend told me to just go over and talk to them. So I did. I'm fearless like that. And nosy. Really really nosy.

Yeah, they're a mom's group from my part of the 'hood. Said I was welcome to join. When I introduced myself, I told them about my video show. I'm a big dork that feels the world needs to know about All Things Mutha.

One of the moms asked me, "So what's the point? I don't mean to be rude, but what's the point of doing your video show?"

Bada bing, bada boom, my thoughts went on a downward spiral from there. Which brings us the final Vlog entry for Vlog Week.

I'm going to try to do this once a week. Me. The camera. Talking about.. me. Wow. My kind of heaven.

Vlog #3 Artificial Twins

2008-03-13T07:08:00.005-07:00

I think I've found my online niche with this Vlog thing. I'm still going to do my video show, and if you'd like to see my video show, please look to the right. See the links? That's how you find the video show.

I'm thinking I need to blend the two a bit more. One of the big complaints people had about the video show was that it didn't show the side of me that comes out in the writing on this blog. I came off as a host, but not as me. I think being TV Host-y was the goal in the beginning, as I wanted to see if I could pull off the TV host thing. Now that it appears TV hosting is nowhere in my immediate future, why not just find my perfect groove here online? Blend more of the Vlog side into the video show? What do you think?

I'm experimenting. I think I'll just see what happens as this evolves.

Vlog week continues here at Word To Your Mutha. Here's me trying to to a vlog entry about the babies, with the babies on my lap. It's obvious I'm distracted, but I manage to finish my thoughts eventually AND you get to see cute babies.

MPMs

2008-03-11T18:59:00.005-07:00

It's Vlog Week here at Word To Your Mutha. I didn't know it was going to be Vlog Week here at Word To Your Mutha. I didn't get that memo. But that's ok because I've found a new love in Vlogging. I'm all fired up about Vlogging now. I plan on taking my Vlog with me everywhere I go. To dinner! On vacation! Maybe even shopping to buy it something pretty.

I love myself

2008-03-10T06:51:00.004-07:00

Since I adore myself so much, and cannot bare the thought of going another week without posting another video show featuring ME on the internet, I've decided to delight you with a Vlog entry. By ME. Starring ME. Featuring MY brilliant storytelling and MY opinions about MY amazing children. Me me me me me me me!!!

Since I'm the world's biggest cheese-ball, I couldn't just do a Vlog entry. Oh no. I had to give it a stock opening and closing. I just wish I knew how to take the final frame, make a little circle at the bottom that opens up to my face doing something goofy, then have the circle close again. That would make it even better. And give ME more screen time. More me! Me me me me me me me.

OH how they scare you

2008-03-07T12:10:00.005-07:00

Final update- WE'RE ALL BETTER! 7 days of a stomach virus has left everyone in the house much thinner. Except me. I am the only person on this earth who could get a 7 day stomach virus AND GAIN FIVE POUNDS. Welcome to my world, people! I'm a big ol freak.

Update: After a nasty scare yesterday where Avie's lips and hands turned blue, I'm pleased to report all is well and she's much, much, better. Sometime during yesterday's trauma, a crow landed on my left eye. I now have my first ever crow's foot. I told you these little ones age you! My only hope is that Avie grows up to be a best selling author and can buy me all the plastic surgery required to fix the damage!

I can't believe I haven't gotten a comment from some idiot saying, "You sure complain about being a mom a lot. You must not like motherhood at all." I've been bracing myself for that since I started writing about the darker side of motherhood. I know my regular readers get it. You know motherhood is complicated. But there's always going to be that one person who stumbles on a blog due to a google search, reads a few lines, and feel compelled to go off without thinking. Yeah, I dislike motherhood. That's why I adopted a baby when I had a four month old and a three year old.

I write about the bad because I wish someone had told me about the bad when I was pregnant with Boo. I had no idea. I was the baby of the family. I didn't grow up around little kids. I was the little kid. And as an adult, I didn't hang out with people who had kids. I knew nothing about being a parent when I became one. And since it took so long to become one, I had turned motherhood into a fantasy world. Me in a white dress, running through a field of daisies with my gorgeous little girls in their white dresses, our hair blowing in the delicate breeze. Sunshine. Happiness. 24/7.

I'm not a stupid woman. I just live in a different world than most. Reality is not something I''m fond of embracing. I spend a lot of time inside my head. It's fun in there.

I always wondered why the parents of young children look so... old. Now I know. Those little ankle biters can take years off your life in a matter of seconds. Like my little Avie did today. Oh that Avie. Here's how Avie and I are alike. She's dreamy just like me. She's the flower child kind of dreamy, living in her happy world of sunshine and clouds and dollies and cookies. Such a sweetie, that Av.

It was 8am and Avie had been in bed since 7pm the night before. I went to wake her up and she just wouldn't wake up. I picked her up and she looked at me, then flopped against me. I forced her to take a few drinks of water, then put her back to bed, thinking she just needed to catch up on sleep from being sick.

Mom came to watch her while I took the other two to the Science Center. On Field Trip Friday? How desperate was I to get out of the house? And let me just say having two kids- how easy was that! Two kids is nuthin. I could do it with my hands tied behind my back and on heroin.

Shhhh calm down. That's just an expression. I wouldn't think of having my hands tied if I was on heroin.

We get home about Noon and Avie is still asleep. I was livid with my mom for not calling me as I raced to her room to make sure she was still alive. Same scenario as the morning. A floppy little baby who just wanted to sleep.

I raced to the phone to call her DR and was told to come right in, as the DR is right down the street. When the DR walked in, Avie didn't scream in fear as she normally does. Instead, she remained floppy while being examined, then pointed at a book and said, "Buh." The doctor suspects Avie has Rotavirus. That would explain why our entire family was so sick for 7 days. Rotavirus releases a toxin that makes little ones floppy like rag dolls. Hence, why Miss Boo slept for a solid day straight when she was at her worst. Hence, why I could barely walk from the bedroom to the bathroom. Rotavirus is nasty nasty nasty.

We are to wake Avie up every few hours for liquids, which she gladly takes. Avie is well hydrated, which is the most important. If she continues to be this way over the weekend, off to the hospital we go.

Time to wake her for more liquids. I'll update over the weekend.

Home Sweet Hell- Behind the Dishwasher

2008-03-05T12:26:00.001-07:00

Thanks for answering my questions about why you read mommy blogs and your family's involvement with your children. I got your emails and all your comments and I'm sorry I haven't responded properly. This virus.. oh this virus! I'm not really coherent yet. You've given me a lot to think about and we'll talk more when I can think again.

I could put the ick in graphic by describing what's been exploding out of various body parts of my family the past week, but I like you.

Instead, I wish to you entertain you with ickiness of another kind.

The following post was written before the Oh No, I Don't Think So virus hit our home. So named because just when you think you're feeling better, the virus taunts, "Oh no, I don't think so" and laughs as you race to the bathroom.

Kind of funny that this post is about yucky odors. So erase thoughts of my sick family as you read what I wrote last week....

I know you come here for glamorous tales of my rich and fabulous life in the fast lane. Today's post will not disappoint.

Wooooo weee the smell that's been in this house! I can only describe it as wet basement meets moldy green beans meets frog-egg covered pond in the heat of august. Hungry?

The smell hovered between the kitchen and the back bathroom, which share a wall. Two areas where you don't want bad smells. Cuz then people come over and think the nasty food you're cooking is giving you serious intestinal distress. That's why you'll always find a scented candle burning when you visit. I want the world to think my family smells of lilacs and cinnamon buns.

Since we don't have a basement, cuz we're the only idiots in Missouri who would buy a home without a basement, I went into a complete panic, thinking the pipes under the foundation had sprung a leak. You know, in an area of the house only accessible by a jack hammer and a lot of tears.

Situations like that only happen to people who hate their houses. The dollars fly right out the window when you realize you were an idiot for buying the wrong house. Oh yay, I'm sinking another 5 grand into a house I can't stand! Girl, please. Let's just light a match and walk away. No one will ever know...

Matt pulled out some cabinets and the dishwasher and to much relief, discovered we had an easy to access leak that required the expert of a plumber to fix. But. BUT. Guess what was in the water that had accumulated behind the dishwasher?

The larvae of sewer flies.

Oh yes, sewer flies made our leak their wakka wakka wow love shack. Globular masses of teeny white eggs, glistening and shimmering with life that is born from the depths of stanky, nasty ass water and problems that cost hundreds of dollars to fix.

And me without a spoon.

The plumber that arrived to fix the leak(S!) looked a lot like my husband. So much, in fact, that little Avie kept walking up to hand him members of her prized Little People collection. Avie. The one who's completely terrified of human beings.

Juna's newest words are naked and mailman and Avie's unusually friendly with the plumber.

Now if Miss Boo starts calling the UPS guy daddy, Matt is going to get very very worried.

Ultimate Baby Shower Gift

2008-03-04T12:47:00.006-07:00

I have come up with the ultimate baby shower gift for the first time mom.

Take a big box. Fill it with sheets, numerous sheets. And towels,tons of towels. Get as many large plastic bowls as there are members of the family. Add some Lysol, add some fabric and carpet strain remover, and viola!

A puke patrol kit.
A deluxe upchuck box.
A throw up thwarter.

Otherwise known as the best damn shower gift she'll ever receive.

And you know what? She won't appreciate it. Oh no. The dear expectant mom will take one look at that box and go, "Um... I'm sorry? I just don't... understand???" And her non-mommy friends will turn and shoot snooty little daggers at you while thinking, "That's SO not an appropriate shower gift. There's not one fluffy bunny in the box!"

And you, the experienced mother will lovingly pat the expectant mom's shoulder and quietly exit, knowing one day she too will understand that even tho motherhood is amazing and wonderful and all that blah blah blah that should go without saying, it's more about the puke patrol, less about the fluffy bunnies.

There is no doubt that one day in the future, you will get a phone call from her, and in an exhausted and stunned voice she will say, "Last night was so awful. The green beans. The noodles. They didn't stop. They just kept COMING! And the milk? No one warned me about the milk."

And you will slap your forehead and say, "Face mask or nose plugs! Damn! Forgot those!"

Then your friend, now an official member of The Parenting Club, will say in an appreciative voice, "I didn't understand your shower gift. Now I do. Thank you, oh wise experienced one. Thank you."

Oh yes, my friends. You aren't really a part of the Parenting Club until you have upchucked Yogos spilling down your nightgown at 2am in all their artificially colored glory. You're not a Real Mom until you're sitting on the toilet with a big plastic bowl on your lap, praying for mercy while your sig other is in the other room, yelling, "They're all doing it at once! It's like the Exorcist in here!"

But there's no time for your own toilet issues, Buttercup. Buck up, as you trudge down to the basement or into the closet to fetch your own Puke Patrol Kit, wisely packed after the "I'm still finding bits of regurgitated animal cookies in my hair incident of 03." Don't be surprised if you pause to hug the box with relief as you gently clean up freaked out babies and children, change sheets, soothe children some more, cover children's cribs or beds with sheets and towels from your kit, then hand them a puke bowl of their own. It's probably best to get the stains out of the carpet or furniture right away. And don't forget that Lysol spray kills germs and odors.

Then, with your own puke bucket in hand, it's time to do laundry before the next wave hits. The first of numerous loads of laundry in the hours to come. Since these things always happen at 2am, it's ok to lean against the washer for support. Just remember to close the washer door so you don't throw up into the wash machine as it's filling with water. Because you need one more issue right now.

Your life for the next 3 to 4 days? Lather, rinse, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And pray you and your sig other (if applicable) are at least one or two days behind each other in the misery, so at least one parent is of sound mind and body. And if both of you go down in flames with the children? May your higher power be with you, my friend.

THAT is motherhood. THAT is fatherhood. THAT is parenthood. And during times like THAT, the ultimate shower gift of all the things you need in one box when everyone's puking their guts out sure beats a fluffy stuffed bunny.

But if it makes you feel any better, go ahead and get her puke bowls with dancing duckies on the side. Sure to be appreciated when her head's stuck in one for three days straight.

Questions for you

2008-03-01T10:57:00.007-07:00

I am going to be putting together the final two shows that I've had shot and ready to edit for months now. Not the final shows ever of Word To Your Mutha. That would be a freakin dream come true because that would mean someone actually wants to pay me to make my shows elsewhere. Or here. I'm ok with that, too. Scuse me a second... Follow your bliss and the rest will fall into place. Follow your bliss and the rest will fall into place. Ok! All better now.

One of those shows is about mommy bloggers.

May I get some information from you to help me form my script? It would be oh so helpful and I would love you forever.

Please answer in the comments or via email at wordtoyourmuthatheshow (@) yahoo (dot) com

1. Why do read the mommy or parenting blogs of people you don't know?

2. What makes you bookmark that blog and keeps you coming back for more?

3. If you have a mommy or parenting blog, why do you share your story with the public?

Thank you. You are a kind and generous person and your butt looks tiny in those pants.

Word To Your Mutha- The Winner

2008-02-25T18:12:00.014-07:00

Nine people entered my contest.

Nine.

I am such a D List blogger.

I might actually even be E List.

Oh, but I wear it well, my E List Blogger status. I'm the little blogger that could. The Midwestern mother with a heart of gold. Just trying to make her dreams come true to make a better life for her family.

Cue the inspirational music?

I embrace my E List status! So much so, that I'm not an E List blogger. I'm an E! List blogger.

Hey, it worked for E! Entertainment. That little exclamation mark. It says so much. And in a loud speaking voice.

I wonder if the people who work at E! ever get tired of that exclamation point? John Assistant is typing out an email, "Hey, this is John from E. DAMMIT! Backspace backspace. John from E! Stupid exclamation point."

Do they ever, in a rebellious moment, leave the ! off the E? And if caught, do they get reprimanded by the boss? John Assistant's boss is standing behind his chair as John types an email. The boss taps the screen and says, "John... the exclamation point..." Instead of an office swear jar, do they have an office exclamation point jar? "I'm sorry John, but I noticed on your letter to Ryan Seacrest that you left the ! off your E. That's $5 for the exclamation point jar."

John Assistant hates his job.

I have a new goal in life. To one day make it to the E! offices, roam the halls, and ask various staff members how they feel about that exclamation point. From the receptionist to Ryan Seacrest. Maybe.. even Mankini.

This is the crap we E! List bloggers think about.

Ahhh but we E! Listers try harder to earn your love. We give away prizes. Does your famous A List blogger do that? Oh noooooooo. They just entertain you with insightful views of the world, told with impeccable writing ability.

We E! Listers give away dorky Richard Nixon souvenirs. Starting right now!

I tried to do the drawing before Matt came home today. I wrote down the NINE entries on pieces of paper, taking time to massage my hand from the writer's cramp. Then I added each name to Miss Boo's pirate hat. I handed the hat to Juna and asked her to draw a name.

She did this instead.

Yeah, let's wait for Matt. And with the magic of blogging, it's now bedtime, Juna. May I please have the pirate hat for our drawing?
Juna wants to take out the pieces of paper and eat them. Avie wanders in carrying a broom. I don't know why, either.

Avie draws the first name.

And hands it to me, rockin that Chris Farley/Ralph Wiggum hair.

And the winner is....

Avie draws another winner before Juna puts back on the pirate hat.

In case tut-tut cannot fulfill her duties as a Word To Your Mutha contest winner, Lauren is our runner up.

A nice exercise in karma, considering tut-tut came to my blog after viewing one of my shows on another blog. And she stuck around. tut-tut, email me with your contact info and your prize will be in the mail.

Let's keep the prize a secret so tut-tut gets a surprise when she gets her mail. It's Richard Nixony goodness, tut tut.

Thanks to everyone who entered. All.. nine... of you. Thanks for passing along the word of my show. We're almost to 600 views in less than two weeks.

Bizarre fantasies about an entertainment cable channel, pics of cute babies, and a prize giveaway. Can your A List blogger do that?

Not if they want to remain on the A List. Thank you and goodnight!

Word To Your Mutha- The Contest!

2008-02-20T18:18:00.014-07:00

Update- The babies will choose a winner by drawing names out of a hat. I'll post pics of the process to announce the winner tonight. You still have time to enter! Drawing takes place tonight at 6pm Central.

We have something to celebrate. The Nixon birthday party video got more hits in one week than most of my shows have gotten in all the months they've been posted. To some reading this, a measly 400 something views is nothing. I mean, a mom can sit on camera and eat a piece of cake and get thousands of hits. A mom with a nicely produced video show only gets 400?

It's not quantity. It's quality. It just takes the right person or people. This has been proven to me time and time again.

You are quality viewers. You're loyal, you're supportive, and you come back for more. I want to show my appreciation with a little giveaway.

I've got a teeny tiny prize to give to someone who loved the Nixon show. Something simple. But fun. Someone with the right sense of humor will get a kick out of this.

To enter, all you have to do is tell one person about my show on You Tube. That's all. I trust you. Just tell a friend . That's all you have to do to enter. Well, that and posting a comment here, telling me you wish to be entered. Or email me. The email is located on the right hand side of my blog under, "Who is this Mutha?" Go to the end of my profile, and there it is. I'll write back to say I got your entry. If you don't hear back, I didn't get your email. Or just post in the comments.

I will draw one person at random next week and mail your prize.

I'll be back next week to announce the winner.

Thanks again for the encouragement and support!

Yes, but did he ring twice?

2008-02-20T15:40:00.002-07:00

Today my daughter Juna learned the words naked and mailman.

I sure hope my husband doesn't get the wrong idea.

The wheels on the bus are flat

2008-02-19T06:40:00.007-07:00

Still looking for the Nixon Birthday Party video from my show on You Tube? Go here!

And now, for some home videos.

Juna is 16 months old and still not saying too much. I thought it was due to her only hearing Mandarin for the first 8 months of her life. But when I caught up with the families in our adoption travel group, all with babies around the same age, I learned some are talking, but slow with walking. Some are walking, but slow with talking. Proving once again, there are no absolutes in this parenting game.

Ok there is one absolute. The cuteness. As you will observe in the video below. Juna loooves music. I've been singing Wheels On The Bus to her. She tries to "sing" along and the best part is at the end of each verse. She brings it home with this long, flat, loud note. It's hilarious. She isn't really doing it here, because she kept getting distracted by giving me kisses. Awww. But you'll get the idea.

This also debunks the myth that just because you have a nice speaking voice, you also have a nice singing voice. I'll never be hired to sing a commercial jingle, that's for sure. :40 video.

And because we cannot leave out Avie, here's a 1 minute video showing what the babies typically do with their latest obsession. Crayons.

I can think of a reason! Your broke ass can't manage your bank account!

2008-02-17T18:49:00.004-07:00

Today we took All My Children out for Dim Sum at Wei Hong, which is a restaurant that was once a movie theater. Great atmosphere, delicious food, a bit of a language barrier, but I love the challenge.

After our incredible meal, we headed to the Olive Farmer's Market, which is a store that carries Asian goods. I stayed in the car with The Stinkies while Matt and Boo went inside to buy butt loads of her beloved Pocky.

Matt came out to the car, laughing, and said, "You should see the sign they have on the door and the cash registers. It says, "Due to some reason, we are no longer accepting personal checks. We apologize for the inconvenience."

I told him to hop out and go take a picture.

It got a bit cut off, but you get the idea.

Don't you just love stumbling on stuff like this?

Joanna may do that, but I doubt she wants it advertised

2008-02-14T14:53:00.010-07:00

Come for the Richard Nixon Birthday party for a four year old video? Go here. or to the post below.

I was a child in the 70s and on Valentine's Day, we'd give those mass produced paper valentines out to all the kids in the class. You know the ones that came 10 to a perforated sheet? Perhaps a Disney character or two. Pooh Bear rubbing his plump tummy while saying, "I love you, Hunny!"

I remember racing home from school and pouring over those little valentines, marveling at the colors and designs and the supposed sentimentality behind each one.

Fast forward 30 years to Valentine's 2008. I'm the room mother at my daughter's preschool, helping to hand out the valentine's day cards. Only in today's world, like all things in today's world, simple is no longer valued. Oh no. Those perforated little cards are tucked into cellophane bags dotted with sparkling hearts. The bags are filled with candy, the candy is hidden underneath stickers, and the bags are topped with light up twirly Sponge Bob pens for the boys, Hannah Montanna (sigh...) for the girls.

I stood there, helping the kids hand out big bags of goodies, having such a Charlie Brown moment. For I had hand made each valentine for Miss Boo's classmates. Carefully selecting the perfect sparkling red construction paper. Cutting them into tiny little squares. Fraying the edges to give them a crafty appearance. And, of course, hand writing personal messages to each child in the class.

When it was time to pass out Miss Boo's valentines, she became instantly embarrassed. "How come we didn't attach suckers to our valentines? Where are the the suckers, Mommy?"

Right here, honey. The sucker is your mother. She should have known everything has been cranked up a billion notches since she was a kid. And yet... it simply didn't register AGAIN. The kids were handing bouquets of flowers and boxes of chocolates to teachers as I stood there, empty handed and feeling completely foolish. Something for the teachers... how could I have forgotten THAT?

When we got home, I dumped out Boo's valentine bag on the floor so we could look at each valentine card, just like I did as a kid. Boo rolled her eyes and kicked at them with her toes. "I don't care about THOSE, I just want the candy!" She raced away with a massive heart shaped sucker in her hand while the babies tossed the paper valentines into the air and babbled with joy. Avie, Juna, and I read each valentine, oohing and ahhing over the colors, designs, and sappy phrases.

I put the last paper valentine back into Boo's bag when I noticed a forgotten one that had been kicked to the side by Boo's toe. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was also a hand made card. Red card stock was carefully lined with pink paper. The front was covered in a puffy googley tiger that said, "You're puuuur-fect, Valentine!"

It was from her teacher. Her teacher had also gone the route of the simple home made card. Inside the card she had pasted a special valentine's quote she had printed up on the computer. It's a quote made famous by author Joanna Fuchs.

"Whenever I may go
You're in my thoughts and in my heart.
Wherever I may go:
On Valentine's Day
I'll like to say
I care more than you know."

And the quote was attributed to,
"-Joanna Fucks"

After doing take after double take, and after taking the card into brighter light to make sure my newly lasered eyeballs weren't playing tricks on me, I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

You see? Simple IS better.

Happy Valentine's Day, my friends.

Happy Birthday Mister President

2008-02-12T07:02:00.000-07:00

How much do I love you?

I adore you so much, I'm giving your Valentine's Day present early. It's not something that will make you fat, nor is it something that will die. Oh no. Not my show. IT WILL NEVER DIE! IT WILL LIVE ON FOREVER AS THE GREATEST INTERNET SHOW OF ALL TIME!

*Ahem. *

Whatever, as long as you watch the damn thing, I'm happy. And you will. Because you want to know how my friend Michelle pulled off a Richard Nixon themed birthday party for her four year old daughter.

Who says women from the Midwest are boring?

And here we go. My all time favorite episode so far. Hopefully yours as well.

Enough about me, how's my hair?

2008-02-10T19:19:00.001-07:00

I was asked to write seven things about myself that the readers of my blog probably don't know.

Oh, there's a lot you people don't know.

And I intend to keep it that way.

Heh.

I never pass up the chance to talk about my favorite subject, so here's seven things about moi.

1. When I was a kid, the first time I ever had to give a speech to the class, I was really nervous. My mother's advice wasn't the typical picture your audience naked. No. Instead she said, "Picture your audience as tiny little cabbages." It worked. So anytime I am speaking in front of an audience, I am speaking to rows and rows of baby cabbages. And when you're telling me a story and it runs long, I picture you as a tiny little cabbage. Mon petite chou.

2. Speaking of stories that go on too long... When I lived in Los Angeles, I met a porn star at a party. In fact, I think that's a standard rule for parties in Los Angeles. One porn star for every 10 guests. We actually lived next door to a porn star. Or was that the prostitute and the male porn star lived downstairs? Next to the old lady who would pick up her nightgown and flash people who walked past her sliding glass door? I don't know why Hollywood can't come up with good story lines because that's a hit show right there. The quote I used in the title of this post came from this one particular porn star I met at a party. She was going on and on about something and noticed her story was running long. She stopped herself mid sentence, tilted her head to the side, and said, "Enough about me! How's my hair?" I don't know if that's her original line or what, but I thought it was brilliant. Then again, I was drunk.

3. I am related to an Academy Award nominated actress. She and my mother look alike. I have the same nose. We all have that upturned nose. Mine has a large freckle that everyone assumes is dirt. Like I've been taking nose dives into the dusty plains of America? I haven't met this lady, who is my second cousin, but my mother spent Thanksgiving with her and surprise, in walked Shirley Maclaine. My mother and Ms. Maclaine did not get along. I asked if she pictured her as a tiny little cabbage. My mother said, "Tiny little something alright..." Perhaps it was an off day for both my mother and Ms. Maclaine. Do two divas and a roasted turkey equal disaster? My stage name is this famous person's last name. Not because of her, because it's also my mother's last name. And it flows real nicely with Mae. Not that I actually NEED a stage name, but I have one handy just in case.

4. I am 100 percent convinced I will one day win the lottery. I don't actually play the lottery. There's an obvious flaw in my logic.

5. I won't see a movie in a theater because whenever I do, the strangers seated near me will either fart repeatedly or have a bad case of the garlic burps. It's happened so often I wonder if it's a sign I should stay away from movie theaters. I made the exception for Chronicles of Narnia, because, well, duh, and some how found a way to get an entire row of seats to ourselves. Unfortunately I got a bad case of the coughs and hacked my way through the entire film. Thus, being that annoying girl who hacked her way through Chronicles of Narnia. That's why we subscribe to Netflix.

6. I just realized none of these stories are original to the blog world, as I have been blogging since 99 as different versions of myself. Don't question the creative. Just nod and smile and pretend to understand. There are no stories you haven't heard that I want you to hear left to tell. This means I must venture out into the world and have some exciting new adventures. Thanks to my internet show, that just might happen. I've already had experiences because of that show that I haven't been able to talk about yet. I have a feeling there's many more to come. And that's all I have to say about that. For now. But you know me. Once I can, I will take you with me down the rabbit hole with me like never before, Alice.

7. Coming soon.

What A Drag

2008-02-08T20:17:00.001-07:00

This blog post was inspired by a story I told tonight.

I've never shared this story with you.

I've never shared this story with anyone. Because it used to be embarrassing. But honey, I'm a blogger. What is embarrassing at this point? Seriously. What's a little humiliation amongst hundreds of strangers?

This happened yars and yars ago, back during my club days. Not the thin and gorgeous club days. The Chub Club days. The days when I squeezed my poundage into bursting at the seams clothing and hoped I could keep it sucked in long enough for the beer buzz to kick in.

My friends and I had gone to a gay bar because we wanted to get hit on by gorgeous men who had no interest in us. I can't explain it any further than that. You either get it, or you don't. And in this case, we didn't, because we didn't want it and neither did they. Sometimes a girl just needs that kind of a night to feel appreciated in this world.

I was leaning oh so fashionably against the bar when a drunk man stumbled onto me and then started apologizing profusely. "Oh sweetie, I'm sooooo soooo sorry! Did I hurt you? Did I knock your drink over? I'll buy you a new one. What are you drinking?" Then he stopped and did a double take. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! You are beautiful. YOU are gorgeous! SO SO gorgeous!!!"

He motioned for his lady friend to come closer. "Come here. Come look at her. Isn't she GORGEOUS?" His lady friend gave a bitchy toss to her skinny little head and shrugged. "I guess."

"NO!" He stomped his foot. Then both feet. "Honey! You are fierce! You. Are. FIERCE!"

Skinny Lady Friend began moving him away. He turned backwards to yell at me as she drug him away, "You stay strong now! You stay beautiful! Always stay beautiful!!!"

I turned proudly to my friends who were also leaning fashionably against the bar next to me and looked terribly amused. "Look!" I said pointing to the duo as they exited. "Did you see that? Did you see him tell me how beautiful I was? He was GUSHING over how beautiful he thought I was!"

My friend looked bored. "Yeah. That's because he thinks you're a drag queen."

"He also said I was- What?"

"Yeah. He thinks you're a man dressed as a woman."

"No. No! No he does not. He knows I'm a woman."

"No. No! No he does not. He thinks you're a man. A drag queen."

And with that, more friends came in to join us and the subject drunkenly changed to boots or purses or drugs or whatever it is 20 something year old straight women talk about in gay bars.

The subject of that drunken gay man thinking I was a drag queen was never brought up again. Until now. ACK! Why am I telling you this story?

Because it's always made me wonder. Did he really think I was a drag queen?

You know what? At least he thought I was a beautiful drag queen!

And that's my some gay drunk guy thought I was a drag queen story.

Top that, Mommy Bloggers!

Ni Hao Miss Boo

2008-02-07T18:15:00.000-07:00

I just watched the debut episode of Ni Hao Kai Lan. For those not tuned into the kid's TV world, it's an animated kid's show much anticipated by the China adoption community.

Kai Lan?

No! Kai Lan!

The first thing I noticed were her eyeballs. Those oblong oval eyeballs. It's a popular style in the Japanimae world, but just doesn't say Chinese to me. I had a hard time getting past that HUGE space between Kai Lan's eyes. Especially on our big screen TV. That space could be for rent. Sell some ads. Corporate sponsorships.

The second thing I noticed was the voice over. Of course I noticed the voice over! Kai Lan has a Midwestern accent! And sure enough, the little girl who plays her is from Wisconsin. I have a link to an article about her that I'm sure my China moms out there would find interesting, complete with a picture of the little voice over talent, who was adopted from China. Love that! Read her fascinating story.

It's very much like Dora, except with Mandarin instead of Spanish. I was hoping for a departure from the Dora formula, and hope the show grows into its own in time.

Best of all, no yelling! I know Dora is outside for most of the episodes but just wish she'd use her inside voice.

Today I went to Boo's school to teach the kids about Chinese New Year. Yeah, like I'm the expert? Adopt a kid from China and suddenly I'm Miz Culture. You know what? It's the Midwest and they're four. Barney could be in front of them talking about Chinese New Year for all they care about experts.

Boo and I wore our Chinese dresses, which is a very American thing to do. Especially Boo's dress. It's frilly and poofy like a tutu on the bottom and traditional Chinese in pattern on the top. And it's PINK! That style dress can be seen at the shops that cater to the China adoption crowd in Guangzhou. Get further into the city and you can't find them anywhere. So yeah, totally for the Americans and way too cute to pass up. I should have bought them in every color!

When Boo arrived at school and took off her coat, the girls oohed and ahhed and said, "You're a princess!" She got permission to wear the dress all day instead of her uniform, which I thought was really nice of her teachers. I arrived in the afternoon with a bowl full of oranges for snack. I found out the kids made dragon masks in art earlier in the day. Together we made kites. Then the teacher got the idea we should have a parade. The principal agreed, so we lined up the kids and told them to wave their masks and kites and to be loud like dragons and rooooooar!

The kids lined up perfectly and quietly entered the first kindergarten class with their eyes to the floor, silent as little mice. I stopped them and said, "Come on! Let's ROAR like dragons and stomp our feet!" The kids gave me a doubtful look. I assured them it was ok, we could go crazy! THat's when they let loose. We stomped our feet through the hallways and yelled and roared and Ni Hao'ed our way through the entire school.

I hope I get to be Chinese New Year room mother every year!

Uniformity

2008-02-06T18:41:00.000-07:00

I could blog entirely about Miss Boo and never run out of material.

Boo goes to a uniform dress code school. I purchased the pants option, thinking that pants would be good for gym class. Pants are good to wear during our cold Midwestern winters. I thought I was being a Good Mommy in bypassing the standard pinafore uniform dress option for the sensible pants.

And up until now, pants were a fine option. Boo barely realized she was even wearing a uniform. Heck, she barely realized she had on clothes until she came home, tore off the pants, and put on one of her princess dresses.

That was, until yesterday.

Yesterday, a little girlie light bulb went off above Boo's head. Since it's Boo, I picture it like Hollywood makeup mirror lighting. I pictured her looking around the class. Seeing the other girls in their pinafores. Looking down at her pants. Looking back at the other girls, now bathed in sunshine with angels singing. I want to be like them. I want to look like them. But I don't. I'm wearing pants.

Miss Boo realized she was not pleased and Her Mother was to blame.

Miss Boo came home from school and flung herself on to her Cinderella carriage princess bed and wailed, "I AM THE ONLY GIRL IN MY CLASS WHO WEARS PANTS! I AM THE ONLY GIRL WHO DOESN'T WEAR A DRESS! GRACE WEARS A DRESS! SARAH WEARS A DRESS! MADDIE WEARS A DRESS! I WEAR PAAAAAAAAANTS!!!!!!"

She was actually sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe as she ripped off her "ugly ugly" pants and threw them across the room. She then raced to her closet, flipping through the clothes and yelling, "Where's my dress, Mommy? Where's my dress like the girls have at schooooooooool?"

I was finally able to get Boo calmed down with the promise that I would go out the next day and find her a pinafore uniform. Just like the other girls wear.

Yeah. I don't know where those moms found the approved uniform in a size 4t anywhere in this city. But try finding one now, in February?

I started with JC Penny, a store that had school uniforms. Had. ARG.

There was no way I was going to let my little Boo down. I headed to Target. I can make it work at Target. I can make anything work at Target.

I went to the little girl section to look for Boo's size. 4t. Nothing. Nothing at all that I could make work in a size 4t. But across the aisle in the bigger girl section, I found skirts in the approved uniform color. And they had a size 4. And me, I'm thinking, hey! Size four. How different can that be from a size 4t? I'll take three! And tights, she needs tights. Nothing in a size 4t, but they have Size 4-6x. Ok, how different can that be from a size 4t?

But a skirt is not a pinafore. So I also went to the Catholic supply store and thank goodness didn't tell the man behind the counter that he had a little smudge on his forehead. I found a pinafore in a size 4. Not a 4t. But how much difference can that little t be?

I got home and proudly showed my mother, who watched the babies for the morning, all my goodies. As I held them up, my mother said, "Oh no. No. Those are way too big. What size are they?"

"Four."

"Not 4t?"

"No.... but a 4 is close to a 4t, right?"

"Oh no. It goes 4t, then 5t, THEN you move up to the size 4. Four, Five, then 6x."

No wonder women are so hung up on size. Look how early it starts. Look how early the confusion of finding the right size starts!

Why do they do that? Why not 4t, 5t, then you jump to size 6. Heck, why not get rid of the t entirely? She's not even a toddler anymore. Isn't that what the t stands for?

Sure enough, Boo came home and tried on her new uniforms and they immediately fell off her hips to the floor. The pinafores? Hung to the ground before falling off her shoulders entirely.

My mother quickly began measuring, marking, and pinning. "I can alter these. Give me a few days and I'll make it work."

My mother, the great Marge In Charge, to the rescue.

When's that gonna be me? When am I going to be the mother who swoops in, tucks her baby birds under her wings and makes it all better? When am I going to get a hang of this motherhood thing and save the day?

Eventually. Hopefully. And if not, I hope my girls inherit my sense of humor.

I see

2008-01-31T11:56:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, my 27 years of wearing glasses and contact lenses came to an end. I had Lasik vision correction. Yesterday, I couldn't see the largest E on the very top of the eye chart. Today I can see the tiniest letters on the chart! Want to hear how it went? Of course you do. You like hearing gory details and I like giving them.

I arrived at the vision center at 930am. I was taken into a testing room to have my eyes re-tested, just to double check the numbers. Before I even leaned in to stare at yet another red dot, I was given a Valium and some water.

Nurse: Here's your Volume.
Me: (twitch)
Nurse: You should start feeling the Volume in 20 minutes.
Me: (twitch twitch twitch)
Nurse: Have you ever taken Volume before?
Me: Please stop calling it Volume before I have a seizure.

Ok, I'm too nice to say something like that. But come on, lady. You give people Valium all day long for a living. You can't say it correctly? And you're not even southern, so there's no excuse.

And she wasn't the only one. I was escorted to the Zen Room, which is a darkened room with a fountain where patients are supposed to zen out and let the VALIUM take effect before surgery. One dude was sound asleep and snoring. Another dude leaned in and asked, "Can you feel the volume yet?"

No, but I don't understand how I am supposed to zen out to the VOLUME of "Born To Be Wild" playing on the stereo. That's not very zen. And I said so. Everyone in the room laughed except for Snoring Dude, who kept on snoring.

One by one, everyone left for their surgeries. I was left with a guy named Bob who owns a car dealership in Illinois. Bob was hilarious. He kept asking where the shot girl was with extra shots of Valium. I agreed. It had zero effect on me. And on Bob. We were both jittering out of our seats.

Then it was my turn. I said goodbye to Bob and the zen room, which was currently playing The Locomotion. I was taken into another exam room where a friendly man in scrubs put numbing eye drops into my eyes and opened up a sterile package containing a pen. He explained how the doctor was going to make marks on my eyes. "But don't worry, you won't feel a thing."

The doctor was going to write on my eyes? Bad oldies music or not, I wanted back into that zen room. But it wasn't bad. The doc came in, shined a bright light in my eye, made his marks, and repeated it on the second eye. It felt like someone was placing a contact lens in my eyes, no biggie at all. And with the bright light, I couldn't see the pen coming at me.

Then it was show time. I was taken into the operating suite that had a big machine and a long chair, almost like a dental chair that fully reclined. I laid back on the chair and was given two small squeezie soccer balls. Then the lights dimmed. The doctor sat behind me and said he'd talk me through the entire procedure.

First he taped open my eye, securing both sets of lashes with tape so they would not fry under the laser. More numbing drops were placed in my eyes. A large piece of machinery moved over my face. I was told to look at the little orange light. It looked like a circle of white light with an orange dot in the middle. That's all I could see, that's all I was aware of in the room was that circle and dot.

Then an instrument was placed on my eye to hold it open and more numbing drops were applied. Still no pain. He said I would feel the need to blink, but wouldn't actually blink. Then he said all I needed to do was focus on the orange dot. And then it all began.

I was aware of a suctioning sensation on my eyeball, then pain. Actually the pain was pretty intense. It got to the point where I was about to say something, then it immediately stopped. Then I was told the dot would go away and everything would go dark. And it did. And here's where it gets confusing. I'm not sure if the popping noise of the laser happened next or not? I was really focused within and even tho it happened in both eyes, when I go to that place in my brain to soothe scary and traumatic thoughts, I tend to forget details of the actual "trauma."

I can tell you when the popping of the lasers began, I smelled my eye burning. Oh yes, you can smell it! It doesn't last long and at this point there was no pain. I was then told the orange dot would come back into focus and it did. Then he said he would pour a cooling wash in my eye. It felt great. Then he said I would see the image of a sponge sweeping over my eye. I did. It did not hurt. I couldn't feel it at all, actually.

There was some measuring and some numbers called out and the next thing I knew, he was removing the lid tape and placing a protective shield over my eye. Then it was time for the left eye.

This is when my heart really began to pound and I was regretting not asking for another Valium. The left eye went just like the right, including the same amount of shocking pain to the point where I wanted to yell ow, then it abruptly stopped. Then the same thing as the right. But it did seem the left eye took longer. There were more numbers called out, more measurements being done.

It took about 2 mins for the right eye and maybe 3-4 for the left. A shield was placed over the left eye, I sat up, the lights went on, and I was told to look at the clock. I could just make it out, but the shields over my eyes and the tape securing the shields made it a bit blurry.

Then I was taken to Matt, and we were given a bottle of wine and post op instructions, and sent home. I walked outside with Matt and could see everything, including our license plate in the distance. But I still shut my eyes and let Matt guide me to the car. I kept them shut the whole way home.

My eyes didn't hurt, but they did feel gritty, sandy, and at times like a tiny piece of glass was floating around in them. Nothing extreme, mostly annoying, but totally understandable under the circumstances. Easy to accept, let's put it that way. There was no need for painkillers.

We got home, and I tried to eat some lunch, but really felt like laying down. I ended up napping about an hour and when I woke up, the cut glass in my eyes feeling was gone. My eyes felt swollen and uncomfortable, but not painful. I spent the rest of the evening on the couch, listening to TV. No TV, no reading, no computer.

Sleeping with the bug eyed shields over my eyes was not a problem, but I did wake up with my eyes glued shut from the drops they had used. I removed my shields and hopped into the shower and was amazed that I could read the labels on the shampoo bottles.

Actually I was freaked out by the experience. After 27 years of having such poor vision, it just felt so weird to be able to see so clearly. I was also worried about protecting my eyes and anxious to get to my post op appointment.

I was able to drive myself, just marveling at the clarity of my vision. Road signs! Tree branches! Cracks in the road! I could see EVERYTHING!

I am currently at 20/20 vision and will improve slightly over that. That was the promised vision amount, since my vision was pretty poor to begin with. My reading vision is perfect and I am not having any distortion. I am getting some slight haloing around bright light, but nothing extreme. It currently feels like I have worn my contacts way too long. Slightly sore eyes, but no pain and no cloudiness.

I have a series of drops to use several times daily for a week. About 20 mins after use, I get a bitter taste in the back of my throat.

I see the doctor in one week for a follow up visit. Until then I am to enjoy my vision, but not the actual look of my eyes. No eye makeup allowed! The drops tend to crust up a bit around the lids, ack. I'm not very pretty right now.

I do believe I felt more pain than others usually do during the procedure because I have extremely deep corneas. Just a guess and I forgot to ask the doctor that question this morning.

I am just so shocked that this is real, that I can see without glasses or contacts. I've been waiting for this for a very long time. This was made possible courtesy of a few voice over accounts that came in at just the right time. I went to a doctor who is one of the best and his prices reflect that! I should have it paid off as soon as my voice checks arrive, which is a relief and makes it even sweeter.

Any questions for me?

Yum Yum Dim Sum

2008-01-28T18:44:00.000-07:00

I'm outa here for a few days while my eyeballs get a good lasering. To tide us over until we speak again, how about a hefty dose of cuteness?

Why yes, that is a picture of my child wearing a Richard Nixon birthday hat. Why do you ask?

(Actual Richard Nixon episode of my show coming in just a few weeks.)

She'll wear anything on her head as long as it isn't an actual hat.

China has been slammed with pretty heavy duty snow storms, especially in the area where Juna Bug was from. I can't help but think of the babies in her orphanage and hope someone is keeping them warm.
No airbrushing here, folks. A closeup on what a baby's face REALLY looks like. Cheez It residue, boogies, and all.

I forgot to post this a few weeks ago. I got this for my birthday from my mom. It's a child's board book that explains the basics of Dim Sum. A must have for any family adopting from China who will continue eating Dim Sum once home, or any family who wants to introduce their children to the concept and traditions of Dim Sum.

A look inside the book.

June Bug is now 15 months and Avie is 13 months. Here is some video of our nightly dinner routine. Avie's the last to finish, so Juna Bug comes over and helps out. On this night, Avie decide to feed Bug. I caught the tail end when Avie was getting a bit fed up with the feeding.

Beyond my show

2008-01-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

So many of you who read this blog have been incredibly supportive of what I'm trying to do with my online video show. You've encouraged me to keep making the shows, even when I've said how frustrating the process can be with lack of proper equipment and video experience. You've also said not to get hung up on the lack of views on You Tube. It just takes the right person to bring the perfect opportunity.

And you were right.

I'm thrilled to announce because of my show, I've gotten a freelance on camera job. Someone was out there looking for material for a project for his company. He did a search for one of the topics I did for my show. My show's link came up. The stars were in perfect alignment because he clicked on my show and liked what he saw.

I'm not comfy giving full details because surely that will jinx everything. I am comfortable saying it's a video series that are kind of like "ads." It's hard to describe without giving full details. And yes, once it's a done deal, you will know more and will get to see it, too.

I'm so proud because it's validation for the risk I took in putting up a video show in the first place. It's interesting because I never thought someone would see my show and be interested in me professionally beyond the show.

It's also something plus size women or "realistic" looking women should celebrate. I'm not being hired to get on camera and moan about being fat and wanting to lose weight. I'm not being hired to play the funny best friend or sexless silly neighbor. Or all the other stereotypes that happen when a plus size woman is put on camera. Oh no. I'm being hired because I'm just a person. A real person who just happens to speak well on camera. I get to talk about the things I am passionate about and that's the entire focus. Not what I look like or don't look like.

An amazing situation for my first on camera job in a verrrrrrry long time.

And hopefully not my last!

Again, thank you to everyone who has been so supportive of my show. Your support gives me the confidence boost to keep pursuing all of my crazy little dreams!

The best play date

2008-01-25T11:43:00.003-07:00

There's a rec center here in town that opens up two adjoining conference rooms, scatters toys everywhere, and has an open gym type play party. They do this every few weeks. Bring your young children and let them run wild.

I used to take Miss Boo. She'd play with her friends while I sat with mine and answered the dreaded question, "When are you guys going to China?"

It went like this: Yeah, China. Sigh... I don't know when we will go. The China program has slowed down.I don't know why the program has slowed down. I don't know if we will ever see our daughter's face. I. Just. Don't. Know. Soooo how are YOU?

And then I'd spend the rest of the play date obsessing over China and being totally bummed out.

Today I celebrated a little victory. I took both of my babies to that open gym play date for the very first time.

I don't have to tell you how good that felt.

Any parent who waited way too long to get a child into their life can completely relate to the significance of that moment. To anyone else entering that room, it was just a play date. To me, it was a reason to raise my fist in the air and give a little wooo hooo!

What's really interesting is that I was watching this mom and her little girl and thought how much they looked alike. You know me, I talk to everyone. Soon we were talking and she said her daughter was from Russia. Another mom joined and said her son was from Vietnam. Maybe ten moms total in that room and three with internationally adopted children.

It made the moment even sweeter.

Let's Do Lunch

2008-01-24T18:25:00.000-07:00

As a voice talent, I don't often meet the people I work with. A script is emailed, I voice the script, I email it back, they pay me. I'm an email address, and a voice. Nothing more.

In the past two weeks, I've had not one, but two lunch meetings. Do you know how long it's been since I had a lunch meeting? Certainly not in the past four years that I've been a stay at home mom. When WAS my last lunch meeting? Thinking... thinking...

I've never had a lunch meeting.

Eating in front of people you are trying to impress. Oh that has disaster written alllll over it.

Eating at a restaurant that does not have the words nugget or fingers on the menu? Enough of a reason to make me try to overcome all my freak-ass self conscious issues and just go for it.

What would Heidi do? As in Heidi Klum. The thin, leggy, gorgeous Heidi Klum. Certainly while building her empire, she had a lunch meeting or two. I would imagine a woman who looks like her can handle a lunch meeting. I pictured her sitting there, smoking, while looking bored and half heartedly picking at a dressing free salad. Perhaps eyes scanning the room for someone more interesting.

I am so far from Heidi Klum that the only approach that would work would be to show up and hope like hell I didn't get lettuce in my teeth.

I got lettuce in my teeth.

Discovered that fact the second I got into my car, flashed a smile in the rear view mirror and OF COURSE there it was, all glistening and green and nestled between my bottom teeth.

Lovely.

I learned something about myself at these meetings. I cannot eat and meet at the same time. It's either meeting or it's eating for me. If I concentrate on eating like the delicate flower that I am, I miss what the person is saying to me. If I concentrate on what the person is saying to me, I put a forkful of food in my mouth, go to remove the fork, miss, and smack myself in the nose instead.

So lovely.

Looking on the bright side, I wore heels and did not stumble. There was no unexpected sneeze to project god knows what in my companion's face. There were no accidental or otherwise gaseous emissions. All in all, while completely wrought with self conscious angst, the meetings were surprisingly enjoyable.

Makes me think I need to get out from behind the microphone more often.

Lasik Pre Op details

2008-01-23T13:17:00.000-07:00

I had my lasik pre-op appointment today.

It's a three hour intensive eye exam to make sure your eyes and you are darn ready for surgery. No messing around! Either you're in. Or you're out. And hopefully that means in with good vision, out with boring old glasses or toric contact lenses that never seem to fit right.

The exam starts with machine hopping. You go from eye machine to eye machine, and stare at tiny red light after tiny red light. Stare at the red dot. Blink. Stare at red dot. Blink.

When I was asked if I tend to pass out during medical procedures, I got a bit nervous. The one and only time I did was the first time my eyes were dilated for an eye exam as a teen. Things got a bit blurry, I panicked, and BAM! I was out.

I laughed nervously and said nahhhhh nooooo. Not after all I've been through medically! But inside I was a bit worried. I could just picture myself passing out, hitting the exam table, needing stitches, and the eye institute saying SORRY you are too wimpy to be a candidate for Lasik.

The eye exam lady said at least one person passes out from the next test we were about to do. At least one, maybe two to three. A week. Good lord what were they about to to do me?

My eyes were numbed with drops and then two thin strips of paper were inserted into the lower lids of each eye. It's to test tear production to make sure you make enough tears to be a Lasik candidate. Some people get a bad case of dry eye post Lasik so they want to be sure you are a natural tear-er.

She stuck the paper into my lids and told me to close my eyes and then asked a dozen questions about myself. I guess that was a distraction tactic. Get me talking about my favorite subject, me, and I wouldn't think to pass out. It worked. I didn't pass out and described the sensation of the paper in the lids to feel a bit like the the application of false eyelashes.

I make great tears. So it was then time to fill out a ton of paperwork saying I won't sue if suddenly the power goes out mid-procedure and the laser fails to cut my eyeballs properly, and on and on and on. They really cover their asses at this place.

Once they get your signature and initials a dozen times, then it's time to dilate the pupils. Drops were put in, I was escorted to a waiting room, and given a magazine to read. I felt a bit panicky. No control freak likes to lose control over anything, much less vision. After about 20 mins I realized I was still reading the magazine just fine. It wasn't until I looked up at the clock on the wall that I realized I couldn't see the clock on the wall. Ack! Everything was blurry and I couldn't focus my eyes.

That's when I was called in to see the doctor and was informed I have a lazy eye. The right one. It has a name. Not the eye, the condition. I don't remember what it's called. I was told that as a child, I should have worn a patch over my left eye to train the right one to be stronger. I didn't, because I never got eye exams as a young child. So my left eye learned to see in place of the right eye. I was so sure he was going to tell me I was no longer a candidate for Lasik. But no! I am. I will just only have 20/20 in the right eye, whereas the left eye will be even sharper. But that's ok, because the left eye does all the work anyway.

Then I was sent on my merry way. Let's just say I should have had a driver. I had zero business driving myself home, my vision was THAT blurry. I ended up pulling off at a nearby exit and having a bite to eat, just hoping those drops would wear off. They did enough for me to take less crowded side streets home.

Here I am, now EIGHT HOURS post eye drops and my eyes are still dilated. I am typing this in the dark and squinting at the screen. What the hell is in those drops?

I want to make a point to you moms of youngins reading this post. Get their eyes examined yearly. Problems are easier to solve when caught at a young age, before the problem gets much worse.

And that is what the three hour pre-op lasik appointment is like. I'll be sure to come back and post all the gory details once I am post op. Next week! That is, unless I get the puke virus going around Boo's school. Cuz knowing me, it will hit the night before. That will make Lasik Day Cancellation #3.

Do your eyes feel twitchy yet?

Lasik?

2008-01-20T18:14:00.000-07:00

I'm one busy Mutha.

If I neglect the bloggity blawg, you will know why. I'm neither here, nor there. I am everywhere!

Keeping me busy outside of my Mutha-ly duties is the voice thang. I've got some big projects coming up in the coming days and weeks. Which is good, because I'm starting a Lasik fund.

Have we talked Lasik before? Can we?

Ok, wait. Let me give you a moment of cuteness. That's really what you come here for!

Each night, we give the babies Naked Time. In diapers. There's not enough carpet cleaner in the world for full on baby naked time. I will sing song, "Naked time! Naked time!" The babies will claw at their clothing, and stomp their little feet and squeal with delight. We will strip them down and they will run circles around the dining table, patting their big bellies and laughing. I don't know where the belly patting started, but both of them do it constantly during Naked Time. Matt and I will sit on the floor and watch them and laugh so hard. Miss Boo joins in and the three chase each other around. It's pure Naked Time mayhem.

Ok- Lasik. Any regrets? Anyone with any strange after effects to warn me about? I'm ready to do this, but want to hear about experiences. Comments appreciated!

If there is a lack of posts in the coming days, just bare with me. I will be back once things calm down a bit!

Junie 15 month milestone

2008-01-17T07:56:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen the paws of a German Shepard puppy? Tiny fluffy body but HUGE paws? So you know that dog is going to get huuuuge.

I think of that every time I put shoes on my Junie Bug. She has the biggest feet. And her hands are huge, too. That, combined with her taller than average height makes us think we have the Yao Ming of Chinese babies. Which is hilarious, if you consider both Matt and I are 5'5". Our biological daughters are these tiny little things. And here's our China born baby who is so tall and so solid with those big ol feet and hands. I just imagine our family picture when she is a teenager and Juna just towering over all of us.

Her 14th month was a funny one. She is starting to say new words. The latest one is butt. I'm learning that's normal when one has an older sibling. The word butt is used often in this house. Mostly "buh-hind." Miss Boo is fond of saying buh-hind, but when she says butt, Junie echos her. "Butt butt butt!"

Avie walks around saying, Alllllll gone, just like Bug did as a younger baby. Occasionally Av will not finish and just says allllllllll... and trails off. Bug will interject, "Gone! GONE! ALLL GONE" Almost as if she is telling Avie to get it right already!

Junie loves her squeaky shoes. For those not in the know, they are shoes that squeak when the child walks, making a sound like a pet's squeaky toy. Squeaky shoes are popular for little children in China. I had purchased them for Miss Boo when we made the decision to adopt when Boo was just 18 months old. The shoes were huge on Boo, but fit snug on Juna. I will put Robeez on Junie, but Junie will go to her shoe shelf, find the squeakies, carry them to me, point at her feet and go, "Uh. Uh!" She will not rest until I switch her to the squeakies. There are days when I just don't want to hear all that squeaking but it's either squeaking or screaming. Squeaking wins.

Tempter tantrums have started. She will throw herself to the floor, screaming, and goes limp and no amount of consoling will calm her down. She wants her way all of the time. She is one strong willed little woman.

She also gets all of her teeth at once. She cannot just get one tooth, oh no. Last week, all four molars came in at one time. I guess that's easier. It's a lot of pain, but it's all over quickly, instead of being drug out over weeks. Whereas Av still only has two teeth. One is coming, but it has taken the past five weeks of misery for her. She is a slow teether. I think Juna has it right.

I recently referred to Junie Bug as being Chinese. The person I was speaking with got offended. "She is not Chinese! She is an American!" I stopped and thought about that for a long moment. I still think about it and it's weeks since that happened. I'm so proud of her heritage. I've mentioned before that when we got to China, it felt like home. I really connected with the people and the culture. We are raising her to embrace her Chinese heritage and plan to return to China as often as we can afford. She will always know her birth country and the traditions. So when I say she is Chinese, I am saying so with pride.

She's my daughter, period. Never ever do I feel a difference between how I love her and how I love my other daughters. When I look at her, I just see my baby. I don't see our differences in looks. To be honest, everyone says she looks like me. I take that as the highest of compliments. I am so proud when people say that.

She is growing up too quickly, but I'm enjoying every moment. She's so fascinating, so smart, and so much fun to be around.

I am so grateful she was matched with us. They got is so so right. I am also grateful I get to spend this milestone with her. Here's too many many more.

boo has homework

2008-01-16T07:02:00.001-07:00

More homework for Boo. More hilarity for our family.

Tonight's assignment? A page filled with lower case t's and upper case T's. Trace the T's. Then color the lower case t's green and the upper case T's orange. It would eventually reveal a circus t-t-Tent.

Here's how it went.

Me: Boo... what did you do to that T?
Boo: I gave him an extra leg.
Me: I see that. Why?
Boo: See! So I could give him roller skates!
Me: That's very creative, but the teacher wants you to trace the T, not give him accessories.
Boo: I want to make fancy T's.
Me: Yes, but in this assignment, they want you to just trace the T.
Boo: I know how to make Ts. I want to make them fancy.
Me: Ok... I understand that... but what are you doing to that T?
Boo: He's waving! Hello! Hello!
(Matt walks into the room)
Matt: Want me to take over?
Me: Please.
Matt: She's just using creative license.
Me: Have I ever told you my creative license story?
(Matt shakes his head no.)
Me: When I was young, I asked my mom to explain e.e. cummings and his lack of capitalization. She said he was taking creative license. I was really bummed out because I thought it was like a driver's license and you had to be a certain age to get one. By the time I could get a creative license, I'd be out of school and no longer need one. With a creative license, I wouldn't have to follow the rules in English class. I could just write without thinking.
Matt: You have to know the rules before you can break them.
Me: That's why you're going to be Homework Guy. I like the roller skating T much better.

Episode 8- Magnet Schools

2008-01-13T19:33:00.001-07:00

The Nixon birthday party for Boo's four year old friend? A SCREAM! So much so, that I had to turn it into an episode for my show. Look for "Unusual Birthday Party Themes" coming up in a few weeks. You'll get to see how my friend Michelle pulled off a Nixon themed birthday party for a four year old. All the decor, the food, and the take home gifts. Just wait until you see those! And you will! Soon.

I didn't go to the party to turn it into a show! It wasn't until I was walked into the house and was just hysterical over the decorations that I realized it was too good to pass up. Luckily I had my video camera with me, and Michelle didn't mind getting on camera. After getting footage of the kids banging away on the Nixon pinata, I snuck downstairs to videotape myself on camera, talking about the party. It was totally unscripted, spur of the moment video magic. I cannot wait to get to work on that show.

I also have two more episodes ready to be edited. Those are coming soon as well.

Can you tell how psyched I am to be doing this again?

What are you doing right now? Have a few minutes to spare?

Or come back here when you have more time and follow the links on the top right. You can see it here, on my show blog, or on my You Tube Channel.

As always, thanks for your support!

Boo's first sleepover

2008-01-12T16:37:00.000-07:00

You remember Britney from the charity birthday party show? WHAT? You haven't watched a single episode of my show? Don't you know I'm the next big mommy superstah? Inside my head? Where offers to work on TV come pouring in on a daily basis! Ahhh it's so nice inside my head.

Britney's daughter Hannah is Boo's best friend. Well today I was interviewing Britney (AGAIN, ARRRGG says Britney) for an upcoming show. Yes, I am repeating show guests. Because! I have no other options here, people. I'm a middle aged Midwestern housewife who has a video show on the internet. Of course my friends have to keep re-appearing on my shows. Who else is going to be on them?

We were in the middle of the interview when her toddler Eli began to struggle to breathe. Britney called the DR and was told to head to the ER. And I raced after her saying, "But my show! You didn't finish your interview! What about my show!!!"

Yeah, that happened in my head, too. It's a bit wacky in there.

They brought Hannah to our place. Hannah was totally freaked out, and not sure of spending the night away from her family. Matt and I tried to make it fun for her, and soon the girls were doing their Mulan kicks while wearing princess dresses and causing their usual mayhem. Oh but first Matt and I had to do Mulan kicks to get the party started. Matt and I did Mulan kicks. That alone should be an upcoming episode.

Boo and Hannah were about to watch a movie when Hannah turned to her and said, "Did you see Oprah last week? She had on a tapeworm and a ringworm! It came out of someone's butt! It was in their poop! Isn't that cool?"

Boo waved her hand dismissively in the air and replied, "I don't watch Oprah."

Then later at bedtime Hannah handed "Mr. Matt" her book and said, "My book first, cuz I'm the guest!"

Boo rolled her eyes, sighed, and said, "Yes, Hannah, we know, we KNOW!"

Hannah's reply? "Oh my goodness, for heaven's sake!"

Update- Hannah's brother has a nasty virus. Britney being Britney - even when the DR said it wasn't RSV, she still asked Eli to be tested because of his exposure to Avalon and the preemie risk of RSV complications up until age 2. The doctor agreed, Eli was negative, and I am thankful for a friend who was so thoughtful. After all she has done to help us in our numerous emergencies, it was so nice to return the favor and help her this time!

But let me tell you something. After having two four year olds and two one year olds in the house- I am tired. Wow, I am tired!

Gilad

2008-01-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

Giiiiiiiiiiiiiiilaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!

Oh how I have missed you, Gilad. But now my post surgical restrictions are over! And we will once again be an exercise duo. You, looking buff and beefy on my TV screen, while I, flabby and doughy, flail about to your workouts in my living room.

Your online bio says you are in your 50s. What do you know? So am I.

Gilad, you tell me how to stretch. How to tone. How to burn unwanted fat. But you don't tell me how to do those things with two babies in the room. And Gilad? Don't tell me to work out when the babies are out of the room. When you have two babies, there's always one in the room. They fall on my stomach while I do sit ups. They pull my shirt over my head while doing yoga poses. They freak out screaming when I turn on the ceiling fan.

Oh Gilad. I'll give you 30 minutes a day during the week and an hour each weekend but it's not going to be easy on me. Hilarious good time for the babies, but that's not actually the point of your workouts. now is it?

Another day, another palindrome birthday

2008-01-07T14:57:00.000-07:00

Boo: Mommy, what's wrong?
Me: I'm sad about my birthday.
Boo: Why, Mommy?
Me: It means I'm getting older which means I'm getting more wrinkles.
Boo: (touches my face) It's true, Mommy. You do have wrinkles.
Me: I don't want wrinkles.
Boo: But Mommy, that's what happens when you're a grownup. That's part of being a grownup. It can't be helped. I still love you.
Me: Thanks, Boo
Boo: Happy Birthday, Mommy. Happy Birthday, Wrinkle Mommy!

Yes, it's that time of year again. Time for me to age another year.

I no longer lie and say I am younger than my actual age.

I lie and say I am older.

"WOW! You look amazing for a woman of 51 years!"

Why yes. Yes I do.

Nixon Birthday Party Invite

2008-01-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

Here's a shot of the invitation to the Nixon birthday party for Miss Boo's four year old friend.

It's next weekend. I'll be sure to post pics of the decorations!

CD Song

2008-01-04T15:52:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, my parents had this wood wall hanging in the bathroom with a painted little girl sitting on a potty seat. It read, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seatie." Say hello to the 70s!

I often sing those droplets of wisdom to Miss Boo after she has used the toilet. Tonight she sang it back to me. "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the DVD."

Took me a minute, too.

Say my name, say my name

2008-01-02T18:29:00.000-07:00

Miss Shake Your Wedgie, Shake Your Wedgie, Yeah Yeah and I were playing Barbies in her room today. Miss Thang has about eight of them now and only a few dresses that are leftover from the Barbie days of my youth. Poor ladies, decked out head to toe in orange polyester. It's quite something to see sweet Belle and Ariel shoved into a 70's Bob Mackie one shoulder tube dress. I'm afraid to purchase Barbie clothing for fear I just won't stop. Just like I did with purchasing those damn Barbies. A four year old doesn't need A Barbie let alone eight. I have a weakness for All Things Girlie. Good thing I have three girls.

Boo was covering Mulan Warrior in rubber bands. Mulan Warrior as opposed to Mulan Princess, there is a big difference, "Get it right, please." She was completely into her task and when she asked for another rubber band, she called me Hannah.

"Can you hand me another rubber band, Hannah?"

"Hannah!" I laughed. I'm not Hannah!"

She sighed. "Hannah. Mommy. Whatever you name is. Geez louise!"

2007, OUT!

2007-12-31T07:46:00.000-07:00

2007? Nahhhh, not much happened at all. Easy year, actually.

Har har har.

I don't need to recap. You already know what happened. You already know it was one hell of a year. It was a year for adventure! It was year where we learned just what we're made of. It was the year we finally completed our family. It was up. It was down. We're not dead, so we must be stronger.

What up next for Mutha Mae? It's funny, I've always had a plan. I've always been chasing something- be it the voice career or bringing babies into our lives. And now? It's the very first time in my life where I don't have a plan. I'm completely flying blind over here.

I feel like a little dandelion seed flying through the air, not knowing where I'll land and begin to grow. It's a strange feeling, being that little seed. I feel a bit frightened, not knowing my course, yet I also feel a sense of relief that comes from freedom. I'm going where the wind takes me. It feels so good.

2008, what do you have in store for me? For us? I cannot wait to find out.

I may not get a lot of readers here at the Mutha blog, but the ones I do get are quality people. Thanks for sharing the journey with me. Happy New Year and all the best for you in 2008!

Tricky Dick

2007-12-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I hang with a group of ladies I met back when Boo was a baby. The kids have grown up as friends and now we're attempting to do the same for our babies.

One of the moms is also a bit unconventional just like me with a daughter who's just as unique as Miss Boo. But now, both of them have totally out-wacked us in the wacky department. I mean that as a compliment.

Her daughter, who also sailed through her test for the gifted education program, is about to turn 4. Her mom asked what kind of birthday party she wanted. Care Bears? Backyardigans? You'll never guess what theme her daughter asked for. Never in a million years.

Richard Nixon.

Yes, Richard Nixon.

Her daughter has a place mat with the faces and names of all the American Presidents and has become fascinated with Richard Nixon. As my friend was telling us this fact, her daughter was sitting there going, "I cannot tell a lie! Tricky Dick!"

So, how do you carry out a Richard Nixon theme for a four year old? Her mom is decorating the room with red, white, and blue streamers. She printed pics of Richard Nixon to hang around the room. She got a red, white, and blue pinata and will place Nixon's picture on the front. She got Nixon campaign buttons off Ebay. She's even giving her daughter a Nixon paper doll kit. I didn't ask about the invites or the cake, but you know they are going to be a hysterical.

Richard Nixon. I mean, what four year old would ask for a Richard Nixon themed birthday party? The fact that her mom is running with it is just classic.

Poop.

2007-12-27T07:34:00.001-07:00

The babies tend to poop at the same time, which is awfully convenient.

Here are Miss Boo's observations on the poop:

Boo: Chinese baby poop is so much better than American baby poop.
Me: Why is that, Boo?
Boo: Chinese baby poop isn't sticky and it's easy to clean up. American baby poop is sticky. It sticks to your skin and burns and causes rashes. Everyone should poop like Chinese babies. But we're English, so our poop isn't as good.

Holiday madness

2007-12-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

This morning, Miss Boo had a serious wedgie because her underpants were on backwards. I tried to explain why this is not a good thing and we needed to correct the problem. Boo was fascinated with the concept of a wedgie and wanted to keep it going all day long. When her underpants were finally on properly, after much struggling on my part, she demonstrated repeatedly what a wedgie looks like. "Look at my butt! Hahaha I said butt." Is my daughter Beavis or is she Butthead? Little sister Juna reached into her pants and tried to pull up her diaper into a wedgie. Avie just laughed and laughed. I finally had to distract everyone with something else to do. My three year old loves gross out humor. Poop jokes, fart jokes, bring em on! Me describing what Avie looks like when she tries to poop will send Boo into hysterics. Girls are just as fascinated with that kind of thing as boys, I am learning.

Then it was time to put bows in Boo's hair, which you can't do with boys unless you want to scar them for life. It's pretty traumatic for Boo, too. Curly Girls hate having their hair messed with. You should hear the screaming when I attempt to do her hair. Each and every morning. So glad we aren't in multi family housing or someone would end up calling DFS. "NOOOOOOOOO MOMMMY NOOOOOOOO STOP IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HUUUUUUUUUURTS AHHHHHHHHHH!" And I haven't even touched her hair yet. Once the bows were in, the Stinkies kept reaching over to touch the bows while saying, "Ooooh! Ahhhh!" Boo was gently swatting them away like flies. "Stop it, Stinkies! Leave my hair alone!" She was on the floor, trying to read a book with both sisters pawing at her head. Again, it's that sibling dynamic of the little ones being curious about the big one that's so entertaining. Not so much for Boo, but I think it's great.

About that nickname- The Stinkies. People are horrified when I use that name to describe the babies. I explain that it was Narnia's nickname for them, but that doesn't pacify the hatah's. "That's a horrible name for such sweet babies." I argue that several times a day, they totally earn the name of Stinkie. Babies stink. No way around that. Might as well celebrate the stink-ti-tude with a chuckle.

It's almost Christmas? AND Avie's birthday one day later. And then Boo's birthday one week later. I think I've got everything in order. But I will tell you this much. Next year? We're celebrating half birthdays in July. This birthday right after Christmas business is no fair to the kids. They get so screwed over when it comes to presents, parties, and treats. Everyone's so burned out. No one wants to party. No one's available for parties. And cake? Who wants ooey gooey birthday cake the day after Christmas? We're all too fat and guilty from all the treats leading up to Christmas.

This is the only year we'll lump Avie's birthday into Xmas, since she doesn't know any better. And Boo is being taken to Melting Pot for cheese and chocolate fondu sans Stinkies. Next year I'll do the summer blowouts to celebrate.

Speaking of blowouts, what's up with the babies and their blow out diapers of late? The Stinkies indeed.

And yes, it's true. I didn't notice my husband had grown a beard. In my defense, I am trying not to notice my husband due to post surgical restrictions, ifyouknowwhatImean. Those are lifted right around my birthday. Sorry I didn't notice, Fuzzy Face. You look yummier than ever. Maybe try not showering for about a week so I don't find you so appealing?? On second thought, that would not make for a very Merry Christmas, either.

Back to the madness I go! I plan on coming back with a special birthday tribute post to Avie on her birthday. Hopefully. Hopefully I'll find the time to sit down at this desk before then!

Have a wonderful holiday, all of my bloggy friends!!

Baby Moons

2007-12-20T17:33:00.000-07:00

Christmas isn't the reason I haven't been posting. I haven't been posting because I'm on my honeymoon. Or rather, my babymoon. Er, babiesmoon.

You see, the babies have reached the sweetest of the pre-toddler stages. They walk, they're starting to talk, but they don't talk back! They don't throw tantrums. They don't scream NO and run away. Instead they break into huge grins and run into my arms for hugs a million times a day. It's a wonderful stage that's only going to last a few months longer. Then they will turn into stubborn little toddlers. I'm drinking it up. I'm drunk on baby love.

When Avie was seven months and Juna was nine months, I called my friend who is a mom of twins and asked. "Will it ever get easier?" She told me when the babies hit about a year to 14 months, I will wonder why anyone would ever want just one baby at once.

She was absolutely right. The those first few months were... challenging to say the least. Now? Oh, it's amazing. Those two together are a sight, beyond their obvious difference in looks.

The girls are completely lost without each other. When one is napping and the other is awake, the awake baby will wander over to the nursery and stand there, waiting for her sister to wake up. I can't distract her. She just wants her sister. And both of them do this. Then when the sleeping sister awakes and makes noise on the monitor, the awake baby will throw her hands in the air, squeal, and run to the nursery. Juna will bang on Avie's crib until I get her down. Then she will hug Avie and pat her head. Avie will grin at Juna and giggle and the two will toddle off to find trouble to get into.

Juna will randomly find the sippie cup and take it to Av and attempt to give her drinks. She will also try to feed her snacks, but usually ends up missing her mouth completely. Avie will often wander by Juna, put her head on Juna's shoulder, then wander off again.

They are starting to fight as well. They scuffle over toys. Juna usually wins, but Avie is learning to fight back. She will bang Juna over the head with her little fist until Juna gives in. Juna understands when I tell her to give the toy back to Av, if Av had it first. She does, but Av does not understand that concept one bit. If Av takes the toy from Juna, Av will FREAK if I tell her to give it back. If I don't see who had the toy first, I take it away from both of them. Oh the complaining! More slapping each other, as if to say, "You're to blame for this!" I say, "No. Love! Love for your sister!" They will stop slapping and touch foreheads. That's how they show love. Like the SNL Coneheads.

Juna is 6 pounds heavier and one head taller than Avalon. So much for Boo's hand me downs. My 18 month clothes are all for summer. Juna will have to get her own brand new wardrobe. Not that I mind shopping for more baby clothes or anything! Juna is just so tall. She is going to be the tallest member of our family. Imagine that.

The babies are complete opposites in personality. Avie is goofy. She will walk into the room, yell, "AHH HAH!" Then wobble away. Avie is a party girl. She wants to play and have fun and eat and drink and be merry. Juna can be silly, but there has to be a reason and she doesn't get too silly. While Avie want to play play play, Juna wants to figure out how each toy works.

JUna understands everything I say to her. I think that's impressive for a child who has only heard English for six months. I recall Boo was speaking in short sentences when she was 14 months, but she didn't understand what I was saying the way Juna does at the same age. I can hand Juna her shoes and say, "Go into your bedroom and put these on the shoe shelf please," and she will. Every time. I can point to her bare feet and say, "Your feet are going to get cold," and she will say, "Brrrr" and go into the other room to find her slippers. We will be in the kitchen with me putting Goldfish crackers into two bowls. I will hand both to her and point to one bowl and say, "Give this one to Avie," and she will go into the other room and give that exact bowl to Avie. She understands everything. She loves being mommy's helper and follows me from room to room, helping me do whatever it is I do all day. All the while Avie is behind us going, "Yeah! Yeeeeeeee-ah!" And throwing her hands in the air and laughing.

Juna has discovered tutus. The second I put one on her for the first time, she looked down, went, "Ooooh," then began twirling around the room. When I told one up, she will clap her hands and twirl around, then point to the tutu, then to herself. She can only say Mama, Dada, All gone, Bad bad bad bad bad and good good good good good, but she really gets her point across with non verbal communication. She's especially funny when she knows she's done something good. Like when she gives a toy back to Avie, she will say, "Good good good good." Or when she figures something out and we praise her, she will say, "Good good good good." Bad bad bad bad is for the cats. Even if they are being good, they're still bad bad bad bad.

We have three remotes in the living room. One for the DVD player, one for the TV, and the other for the satellite tuner box. Juna will hand me the TV remote and the tuner remote, then start dancing. She is telling me she wants to hear music from the satellite music channels. SHe never hands me the DVD remote because she knows that is useless in getting her music. She does this numerous times per day. If the TV is on a program, she will hand me the tuner remote and dance around, then point at the TV, then the remote. She is telling me to please change the channel so she can hear music.

Avie is starting to show her true goofy personality. She is less baby, more toddler every moment. There may only be two months between them, but Avie is way behind Juna in development, mostly due to Avie's prematurity. I have to remember that Av is actually more like four months behind Juna. That should even out soon. Avie does watch Juna constantly and mimics her sounds and movements.

I spend most of my day watching them, completely in awe. Not much gets accomplished in this house, because I spend so much time with them on the floor, enjoying every moment. Taking care of them isn't as difficult as it once was. It's now an easy routine and much less frustrating and much more enjoyable. Maybe because I'm more experienced. Maybe because I'm more relaxed. Or maybe because it's just easier with two so close in age. While I've always enjoyed motherhood, I never knew it could be this great. I'm going to bask in this blissful babymoon stage while it lasts.

Friends With Benefits

2007-12-16T18:22:00.000-07:00

I've noticed a few of you mommy-types have been writing in your blogs about longing for that perfect Best Friends Forever relationship, like the kind you had back in junior high or high school. One blogger in particular who wrote such sentiments completely caught me off guard. I figured she had to beat her BFFs away with a designer handbag. "No! I cannot possibly go out for shopping and drinks with you AGAIN! Stay back! Stay BACK!"

It's funny, these blogs. They've become a source of comfort. Don't you agree? Haven't you felt a sense of relief in knowing others share the same thoughts and feelings as you? Especially the ones we don't dare speak of in public?

I've had similar feelings about longing for that BFF relationship. And I'll say what the other bloggers already said so well. I have friends, good friends, but I don't have that stereotypical BFF situation either. It made me wonder why so many of us are saying that? How come so many of us approaching 30 or even 40 are lacking in the BFF department?

I've done some thinking on this and want to share my thoughts with you. Tell me if you agree or not.

Most of us formed those intense best friend attachments at a very young age. Back when it didn't take much time or effort to become fascinated with someone. As we aged, so did the friendships. Some more gracefully than others. We change so much between our teens and our late 20s that we often grow out of relationships. Just like many young marriages, young friendships can't withstand radical life or personality changes.

As we age, we have a better understanding that forming intense relationships takes time. We don't have sexual chemistry to speed along the bonding process. We don't have the fierce protective love that we have for our children to speed along the bonding process. We're just two people, learning about each other and hoping we like what we discover.

With the distractions of spouses, careers, and kids, bonding with a new friend can be a diffult process. I think 30 or 40 year old women can have instant connections with other women. I just think we've been around long enough that we realize taking it to the best friend level takes time. And taking it to that level with all our adult responsibilities distractions can make it impossible to find that time. We've also been burned a few times by relationships, so we're hesitant. Add up all those factors and it's no wonder so many of us are surrounded by friends, but very few of us can claim we have a Best Friends Forever friend. Or the Best Friends Forever scenario we had in our youth.

I conduct most of my friendship networking online, even with my local friends. I'm not a phone person. I rarely call someone just to chat. I don't often make the time to hang out with my friends without the kids. As a result, I bet many of my friends don't know how much they mean to me. I think many of them reading this right now would be shocked at how highly I regard them.

I need to get better about reaching out to people. I've been hurt so badly in my life that I form a big wall around me. I let people in, but only so far. I need to take more risks when it comes to friendships. I definitely need to reach out more.

I took a step in that direction last night. I had met Britney years ago when our girls were babies. Hannah and Boo formed an instant BFF bond. It was priceless to see two girls toddler to each other while squealing each other's names in delight. They'd hug and knock each other over, as they were still so new to walking. Here's a photo from one of their early play dates.

The bond has continued between the girls and Matt and I have become close with Hannah's mom and dad. I called on Britney a lot during this past chaotic year. She holds my family together when I cannot. Last night, we wanted to show them our appreciation and invited them over for a holiday/thank you party.

Boo and I wanted to have a smiling snowman to greet the family as they came up our walk. We weren't sure which way they'd come in, so we covered both entrances. Here's our green greeter.

And the the blue greeter for the other door. Her nose is a rose.

We also sprayed the bushes and trees that line both walks red and green but I wasn't able to get a good picture. I was able to get a lovely picture of Britney's family. As you can see, Hannah has grown quite a bit from that picture I posted above! Hannah's beautiful long hair will soon be donated to Locks of Love. As I type this, Hannah is taking her test to get into the gifted school. Boo hangs with a smart crowd.

Britney and I, joining in the reindeer games. Because I am corny, I asked everyone to dress in Christmas colors. Not pictured is an unfortunate shot of Jack (shot of Jack, haha) and Matt and an unfortunate placement of a Santa hat on one man with an unfortunate direction facing of another man. As hilarious as that picture turned out, I cannot do that to the husbands.

Once there was just Hannah and Boo. Now there's five kids between us. More proof that it's impossible to assemble the kids on our famous red couch for a holiday picture. If we had left Avie much longer, she would have been in dream land.
I had a bitchy little experience with one of the bakeries in town. I was the nice one in the scenario. The bakery manager obviously has so much business that when I asked to order my child's first birthday cake, she rolled her eyes and sighed at me the entire time. Done with them! I've decided to learn how to bake and decorate. That way, I can control the fat and caloric content. Applesauce instead of oil being a great trick and it works wonders! I do need to get some much needed supplies. Like a cake platter. Who doesn't have a cake platter? Who doesn' t have a cake cutter and server? Who doesn't even have a plastic cake storage thingie? Me! In this picture, you can see my.... very spirited looking cake resting on the top of a tupperware lid.

Red velvet cake, with the obligatory red velvet cake crumblies on the sides of the cream cheese icing. The problem being that I decorated the cake on the tupperware container. The white tupperware container. Ever work with red velvet cake? The red dye is intense. As I tried to scape away the stray crumblies, they left red streaks on my white lid. I decided to work that into the design and just left them there. I added white sprinklies, green sugar, and Xmas M and Ms. It really does look like Santa barfed all over my cake. But it ate good and that's all that matters.

So yeah, friendships as an adult. Not always easy to accomplish. Perhaps it's not so bad having numerous good friends and no BFF. Or maybe we really do have several BFFs, but it just works differently at this age.

Twitter

2007-12-15T18:26:00.001-07:00

Always late to the party, but I bring the good hooch, so I'm forgiven.
I'm Twittering now? Because my blog's not enough? I need to give everyone updates on my life on yet another online source?

Alright, fine, FINE. The cool kids are doing it, so it must be worth a look. Consider me Twitter-fied.

Link to the right on my side bar if you are interested. Let me know if you Twitter so I can stalk, er, follow you, too.

2007-12-12T18:55:00.001-07:00

I will now answer a question received via email:

So, Mae, when we will see the next episode of your show?
My little internet show that could? "I think I can be more than just an internet show that no one watches. I think can be more than just an internet show that no one watches."

I have learned a few of you readers informed TV executive types about my online presence and what I am attempting to create with my show. That was very nice of you. You think highly of me. I am both baffled and flattered. But thank you. Really, very cool of you.

The most interesting response came from an executive who said they weren't interested in doing a reality show about a stay at home mom.

The person who told the executive about me said nothing about a reality show.

It appears Mr. TV Executive did not have his listening ears on.

A reality show? Oh lordy. Here's what a reality show about our lives would look like.

That clip was 10 seconds too long.

To answer the question of when the next show episode will appear? Hmm... I don't have an answer, actually. Sometime in January. I'll let you when to check the show blog or You Tube.

Have a good weekend!

Our weekend

2007-12-09T08:16:00.001-07:00

"Yeah you should have seen Avie spit out her green beans, it was hilarious! I wish I had the video camera rolling. Wait wait.. hold on a minute..."

"Hello. Hi. I didn't realize you were standing there. I'll be with you in just a sec, I'm on the phone."
"Yeah, so anyway, then Avie threw the biggest fit because I guess she doesn't like green beans but mom was like... um... hi. Do you mind coming back later? It's going to be awhile. I'm on long distance. Thanks."
"Hi hi! You can come talk to me! I'm always smiling! Unless I don't know you. Then I do this AH AH AH AH AH cry. Strangers really freak me out!"
"A few weeks ago my mommy found this amazing faux fur throw but it was dry clean only and my mommy said no way was she going to have a dry clean only throw so she went to Target and found almost the exact same thing for 30 dollars cheaper and it's machine washable. It's sooooo soft. Ok you have five seconds before I start crying AH AH AH AH AH because I really don't know you at all!"
"Hi. I'm holding my Cinderella dolly because we're in the hospital. I had to go to the after hours emergency clinic at the hospital Saturday night. I had a really really REALLY bad ear pain and high fever. The nice doctor gave me pink medicine and then asked if I wanted a popsicle. I said, "Popsicles aren't in season at my house. I can't believe they're in season at the hospital!" Then mommy stood up and I grabbed her arm and said, "WAIT! We can't go home! I need my popsicle!!"

"I guess what I have is con-jay-juss because now the babies and mommy are sick. Mommy said sick germs are in season all the time at our house! I feel much better now. Bye!"

1 month, then I'm late

2007-12-07T15:39:00.001-07:00

December 7th as I type this.

One month until my birthday. My ouch ouch ouch hurts to type this...Thirty... ow ow ow Seventh... birthday. Ack.

As a kid, December 7th was AWESOME. I'd wake up singing, "One month til my birth-day, one month til my birth-day. Cha cha cha, cha cha cha! One month til my birth-day!"

As a 36 year old, this morning's song in my head was more like, "One month til my birthday? Crap. One month til my birthday. Sigh. One month til my birthday. Wake me when it's over."

Didn't help that this morning I woke up from a dream where my breasts had deflated and were hanging to my knees. You know, like how they animate little old ladies? Those big ol sandbags for boobies, wibblin and wobblin to the floor?

I woke up and grabbed my chest but didn't get the reassurance I was hoping for.

37? That's LATE 30s.

I've been desperately holding on to mid-30s. "I'm in my MID-30s." As if that made me sound younger. Mid 30s, please! Not LATE 30s. MID 30s.

I picture a large 37 hiding behind a 35 and the 35 pushing it forward. "Uh uh. No no no. You're 37. You're supposed to be in the LATE 30s section."

I picture an awful lot of odd things in my mind. Animated saggy breasts. Numbers that can talk. Senility IS a sign of old age, dontcha know.

Yeah yeah yeah. 37 isn't OLD. Talk to the age spotted hand. I've got a canyon running between my eyebrows and two sand pits hanging under my eyes. Speaking of hanging, let's not even go back to the breast issue.

It's not so much the fading looks. Or inching ever so closely to fuh fuh fuh fuh ... spit it out... Forty. It's the fact that it's going so quickly, this life. I was just celebrating 36, albeit a bit begrudgingly. I blinked and here I am. Again.

Aging gracefully in a youth obsessed society. Slowing down the aging process in a fast paced world. Stop me before I become a Oil of Olay commercial.

I realized the other day I've been on the internet for almost 13 years. Blogging for 7. Never was my age more apparent than when a newbie to the online world, ten years my junior, blew off my concerns over internet forum safety and privacy. I was half incensed, half embarrassed. Incensed because someone with my online experience, and there have been many straaaaaange ones, knows what's she talking about. Listen to me. Learn from me. Embarrassed because of course someone youthful would have a devil-may-care attitude. What am I saying? Someone youthful would never use the expression devil-may-care!

These days, you can't swing a cat without hitting a blogger. Again with the old fashioned expressions? Now that I'm LATE 30s, I find those expressions quite comforting. No longer do I feel the need to use the latest slang. In fact, I find the latest slang a bit uninspired. Come on, kids. You'll never out-awesome my generation's over-use of awesome. We still do it to this day. You'll do it, too. Dude.

So here I am, soon to enter my late 30s. I've got a house that I dislike a great deal in a slow buyer's market and a figure I can't seem to tame down to a reasonable size. My only hobby is writing in a blog that can't get beyond a few readers a day, a career that has sputtered to a halt due to my lack of time to nurture it along, and an idea for a mommy show that will never amount to anything more than "that one show I once did on the internet when I was in my MID 30s and still dared to dream."

On the up side I've got a husband who seems to love me in spite of ... being me.... Three amazing little girls who fascinate and delight me daily. Three cats and none being used to club unsuspecting bloggers, despite my fondness for the dated expression above.

I'm to the point where I can look back on my 20s without wincing, high school was too long ago to even give a second thought, and the pains of my childhood don't hurt as badly. I am funnier, wiser, and wittier than I've ever been. You don't get that at 21, my friends. This isn't brazen cockiness of youth speaking. This is the self assured satisfaction of the experienced.

Maybe LATE 30s won't be so bad after all.

Ooph! Orectomy!

2007-12-06T09:48:00.000-07:00

Just saw the doc.

Tumor sounds scarier than cyst. Is it the same? It isn't, right? Or is it the same? I don't know. I kept saying cyst and Doc kept correcting me with tumor. Whatever. It was benign, it's gone, la la la.

The removal of an ovary is called an oophorectomy. What a fun word.

Doc and I were at the desk right before you exit the back of the office and he was filling out a prescription for me. Here's how the conversation went. Note there were numerous nurses and some pharmacy reps standing there.

Me: Oh! I forgot to ask. I'm off all restrictions now, right?
Him: WHAT? No! You've got five more weeks.
Me: WHAT?
Him: Yeah! You just had major surgery!
Me: Five weeks!
Him: I told you that.
Me: I wasn't listening! You mean I can't lift anything for five weeks?
Him: Nothing over 20 pounds.
Me: But one baby is 22 pounds. How am I going to pull this off?
Him: Unless you want to end up back in the hospital- no lifting.
Me: And what about, you know... *winks* You know.
Him: Sex? You just had major surgery!!
Me: I know but I'm bored!
Him: Five more weeks!
Me: You're not making it a very Merry Christmas at my house.
Him: Five weeks.

Then I stopped at Target and thought I was going to DIE. I was fine all the way to Pharmacy. Left Pharmacy for Children's Clothing and wondered how I'd make it back to Pharmacy for my prescription. That was stupid of me.

Then I got into line that was six people deep, Merry Freakin Christmas, and leaned over my cart in attempts to hold myself up, wondering how I was going to handle this, for real. Five weeks, no lifting Juna. How would I get Juna into her crib? How would I get Juna into her high chair? How would I get both babies into the car to pick up Boo from her activities?

The answer is I can't and I won't. I have to get extremely clever. Mattresses and seats will go on the floor. A friend will be paid to fetch the child as needed.

This is life when you only have one family member and that family member has a job and all your friends have kids.

I am SOOOOOOO ready for this crazy year to end. This is my third instance of needing help this year for an extended period of time. Post birth and Av in the NICU in Jaunary. Two weeks in China in June. And now six weeks for surgery.

NOTHING can go wrong next year with me. Seriously. Everyone is fried, tapped out, and I'm sick of needing help. I don't do well with needing help.

Counting the days until January 8th...

Good Morning!

2007-12-04T09:09:00.000-07:00

WHY do I always get woken up early from the sexy dreams? If I'm being chased by a psycho killer, the dream goes on and on and on. If I'm dreaming I'm doing things... I can't tell you what I was doing. But they were good. And HELLO! Five minutes into the most amazing dream I've had in ages and there's commotion in the house and I'm up. Damn I'm up.

Getting out of bed post abdominal surgery? I have much sympathy for beached whales. I flip, I flop, I grunt, I get nowhere. When I do manage to hobble to the bathroom, I don't like to find it already occupied. Then I have to hobble to the back of the house and down a step. I don't like finding THAT one occupied, too. Especially when I pass my husband in the hall. There's only one other person able to use a bathroom in this house. Why are both occupied?

There was a water main break in my mother's 'hood this morning. She arrived early for the day and brought her Paramour with her. Her Paramour, whom is quite fond of the extreme right wingie dingie news programs and watches them non-stop when here. I'm a middle of the road kind of person. Extremes of any kind exhaust me. I also dislike waking up to politics. I dislike waking up. I'm not a morning person.

I wandered into the TV room to find him watching a scene where beautiful and obviously augmented blonde was walking a bloated Eurotrash dude around a multi million dollar estate. Blondie was barely wearing what looked to be a miniature black cocktail dress. La La's pushed together, hiked up, and threatening to break free from the barely there fabric. Cue the wakka wakka wow p*rno music? What the hell is my mother's boyfriend watching?

Cut to bloated Eurotrash Dude saying, "Yes. I come to America to buy property. America dollar eez so weak. I get much for my money. I buy in South Beach only because women are so beautiful."

Snort. The only reason that dude gets any is because he's rich. Take away his money and that blonde wouldn't even casually glance in his direction. So who was that blonde anyway? His girlfriend? Mistress?

His real estate agent.

I've been living in the Midwest too long. Of course she sells multi million dollar real estate in South Beach. Bet she's super successful, too. Who would a rich dude rather do business with? A bikini model or some skinny sweaty dude with a shoulder twitch?

Imagine you and your family go to look at a four bedroom, two bath home in a nice middle class neighborhood. You show up and your Realtor is wearing leopard print hot pants with a bikini top. "This area has a great school district!" Leans over, spills out of her bikini. "And the back yard deck would be great for entertaining your church group!"

That wouldn't go over so well here in the Midwest.

Then the story about American real estate and the weak dollar ended. Cut to the anchors in the studio. Male and female, not seated behind an anchor desk, but perched on high back chairs. Male anchor dressed head to toe in conservative suit. Female anchor in micro mini, low cut tight shirt, thigh high black boots, with long red hair skimming her ample chest.

No wonder men love these news channels!

Wow, a lot has changed in morning news since I had kids. While I've been watching Backyardigans, morning female anchors have gone from attractive to downright sexy. Yes I HAVE been in the Midwest too long. I want my morning anchors covered. I want them to look like serious news anchors. I don't want her to look like she's running out to attend her friend's bachelorette party.

My mother's beau then turns to me and says, "If you looked like her, you'd have no problems getting a job in television."

I'd raise the Terror Alert:Bitch to the next level, but I'm not sure it can get much higher.

Someday you will ache like I ache

2007-12-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

I've reached Terror Level: Bitch.

OH I hate this oh how I haaaate this.

You would think I'd get off on being the diva in need. Lounging on the couch, fanning my face while affecting a Paula Deen voice and drawling, "Sugar, be a dear and get Mama a Perc-OH-set."

It's too much like this time last year with the pregnancy bed rest with day and night on the couch, and nothing but the teevee to keep me sane. Here we are again, after one crazy ass year and I'm shattered. I know it hasn't even been a week but I've HAD IT.

It's fabulous to lay around all day with nothing to do. IF YOU FEEL GOOD! If you aren't feeling surgical staples digging into your belly. I'm ready to rip these suckas out. HOW do I still hurt? Surgery schmurgery, blah blah blah. Recovery from a laparotomy is sloooow. And I'm not the most patient woman in the world.

There are three people keeping this house together. My Mother, who is 75 years old and gets exhausted just from walking up our driveway, so imagine what two babies do to her. My friend Britney who is making sure the three year old is taken care of. And the Husband, oh the dear husband. Between three shrieking me me me me's and one bitchy angry wife, he's ready to leave home.

I have to work Tuesday. Granted I work from home by sitting at a desk and reading out loud. But right now it hurts to delete a program from my Tivo. Reading a commercial with Much Enthusiasm is going to flatten me. Look, if I don't do it, someone with a younger and sweeter voice will do it for me. My line of work can be highly competitive and I will not let the former Senor Cystie blow my cash flow.

I see the doctor to have the staples removed on Thursday. I'm hoping he lifts all restrictions and I can drive and lift babies and be a normal human being again.

This house can't survive much more at Terror Level: Bitch.

Ow

2007-12-02T12:15:00.001-07:00

It's been four days since surgery and can I just say, "Ow?" I'd rather say some other choice words, but you get the drift. OW sums it up nicely.

I'm not into painkillers at home. I don't like that fuzzy headed feeling. Being high in the hospital is one thing. High at home with three kids and an exhausted (and sick with a sinus infection) husband? I can't lay on the couch all stoned and singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow but have it end up being Rainbow Connection, and ask anyone who will listen if if they think I could get Kermit the Frog to sing on my show. Not that I'm saying that actually happened or anything...

It's Advil for me. Advil is not cutting it. I hurt. Oh gawwwwwd I hurt.

I do what I always do when I hurt. I laugh at my pain. Example: I think this hurts so badly because I have a fat n floppy lower belly. And when I stand up, the fat propels my belly forward and tugs painfully at the staples. Then there's the black and blue mark to the far right of the staples causing much pain. Oh, maybe right about where the ovary once resided, just thought of that. I think I was told in my drug haze that the cyst had seeped through the ovary and adhered to belly fat. Dr Mac had to scrape out extra belly fat to remove the ovary. Sounds like a nice bonus, but the right side of my belly is smaller than the left. I have poofy fatty belly on the left, a weepy incision held together by bright silver staples in the center, then a much smaller pouch of fatty belly on the right.

You want me, don't you.

There's nothing to do but watch Bridal Television. If you could hear me say that sentence, it would be said with one eyebrow raised, then a two eye roll.

I got married in 1998. Bridal Television consisted of A Wedding Story. Crews followed a couple the days leading up to their wedding. Did you know Matt and I were considered for that show? Oh yeah. Banyan Productions produced the show at the time and chose us as finalists. We appealed to them because it was a destination wedding at a ski resort. Oh and duh- because Matt and I are just way too adorable. Obviously not adorable enough. Banyan went with a wedding in that area, only the chosen wedding was held outdoors, down by the river. Not in a van or anything. Just down by the river with the sun sparkling off the bride's tiara and the mountains providing the perfect backdrop.

Actually it's funny because Banyan Productions produces all kinds of TV for ladies and you know what kind of show I do on the other blog, riiiiiiight. Oh Banyan. You didn't choose me last time. Choose me this time? We could make beautiful mommy tv together. You don't know I exist, but call me??

The lovers, the dreamers and meeeeeeeeee!!!

So Bridal Television. The days of A Wedding Story are looong over, my friends. Now Bridal Television is allll about, "How much can we spend on this wedding?" Middle class families spending 50, 70, 100 grand plus on a wedding? Are THEY high? I'm wondering if any old skoolers out there are reading this who didn't even come close to spending that amount on their wedding. Like me. And I had a resort destination wedding. But those were the days before these wedding shows influenced millions of young brides and helped catapult the wedding industry into a multi billion dollar one. Aaaand helped jack up the price of the "average" wedding.

It's the most important day of your life and you only do it once (mmm hmmm good luck with that) and you have to do it right. Sure, if you have that kind of budget. But I see these average families who literally go deeply into debt for a wedding. I think of what that average middle American couple could do with 70 grand. And it's all gone in one day. But that's what it costs! And it's my special day! Soooo, I guess it's not a wedding if you don't pay 10 grand for the centerpieces? Me? I'd rather get clever with the budget and save the rest for a massive down payment on a home. Then again I'm ten years into a marriage with three kids and in my late 30s. Consider the source.

We could not go into debt for our wedding and neither could our parents. Period. And I still got a beautiful wedding, reception, and an after party in Aspen freakin Colorado. It's amazing what one can pull off with a bit of creativity and whoooole lotta charm.

Hey, for those who do go insane with the wedding spending, and really can't afford to, and then televise the madness? Thank you! I'm in pain, I'm bored, the kids are screaming, I can't help Matt, and I need to feel sorry for someone other than myself. And just like that, I went from OW to Me-OW!

Seriously, 8 grand for a VEIL??? When the parents had to get a second mortgage on their home for that veil?? Am I the only one befuddled by this?

Me VS Senor Cystie. Senor Cystie Won

2007-11-30T16:24:00.000-07:00

I was told I needed to sit up today for about an hour, so this is my sitting up time. I'm still shaky and out of it, so I hope this makes sense!

Oh Senor Cystie. Because of you, I have one less ovary.

Want to hear how it went? I will spare no gory details.

I am writing this with about a four inch vertical incision from pubic bone up to belly button. It's not as long as my vertical C Section scar, but in the exact same place. Doc just cut through the old scar tissue to avoid making my lower belly into a map of surgery scars. It hurts like you cannot even imagine. Unless you've had a similar incision. Then you know the feelings of staples holding together your belly and muscles crying out in pain underneath.

The day began at 8am. I checked into surgery and was given a pager, ala popular restaurant style. It buzzed each I was needed. I was also given a number and a color coded page to give to Matt. As surgery progressed, he could look at a screen, find my number, look at the color of the number, and know how I was progressing in surgery. Sort of like flight information.

The first buzz meant registration. Hand over insurance card, ask if you have a living will, etc. Yeah, they ask you those awful questions. This time I answered yes, I do have a will. I felt so grown up! The second buzz meant give the pager to the husband and head into pre-op. Pre-op is a large room filled with curtained off beds. There is an area with loungey chairs where blood is taken to test blood type and platelet count. Then women of child bearing age head to the bathroom for a urine sample to test for pregnancy. Then you are escorted to your own private curtained off area, told to strip down and put booties on your feet and a cap on your head and a gown on your body. I always look at the people in their beds and wonder what they're in for. I also enjoy eavesdropping on their conditions, especially after they are given the happy drug. You wouldn't believe the dirty jokes when people are given the happy drug!

At that point, it was only 830am, so I had a lot of time to just sit there until surgery. I chatted with my nurses, all fascinated to hear the two babies two months apart tale. You think I talk a lot under normal conditions? Pumped on adrenaline, and I can't stop. I've said before I'm actually funnier when freaked out. I had a one woman show going on behind curtain #8.

When it's IV time, it's almost show time. You first get an injection of a numbing medication, which stings and burns, then the IV catheter is inserted. At that point, things go quickly. Anesthesiology drops by often with numerous questions. The big one being nausea and talk about how to control nausea post-op. I was given a patch behind my ear to control nausea and told not to rub it, then touch my eyes or my eyes would dilate. Then my husband was paged so he could come in to say goodbye. He didn't get to say much because that's when Dr Mac's resident arrived to discuss what was going to happen, the Anesthesiologist came back, the nurse came in, and so did Dr. Mac.

Dr. Mac said there was a big chance I would lose the ovary entirely. And if he found Cancer, it was all going and was I ok with that? I told him not to bother saving my fertility just save my life. A Pathologist would be there to evaluate Senor Cystie and tell him which way to proceed. There was talk back and forth about the operating room being ready, then Matt was told to say goodbye. I had to hold back tears. I usually cry when I say bye to Matt before surgery but this time I was just anxious to get in there and get the yucky out of my belly. That's what Boo calls it. "Mommy has a yucky in her tummy."

The Anesthesiologist then told me she was putting something in my IV to relax me. Ooooh baby! The happy drug! That's the only bright side to surgery. You get good and high! It's the best you've probably ever felt in your life. You are happy, you feel giddy, you don't care what is happening to you. You can barely focus your eyes or think anything other than trying to control the laughter bubbling up in your chest as you are rolled down the hall into the OR. Or you concentrate really hard on not saying something inappropriate. I think if you have partied a time or two in your life, you know how to control those things.

This time, she ran light on the happy drug. I wasn't pleased. I wanted to be good and stoned, darn it. But hey, I can give a more clear headed report about what happens once you get in the room. Usually it's all lights and pretty colors! You are told to roll onto the operating table from the gurney. You can look around and see the OR and the big lights and cabinets. You might even see the surgical table and the instruments. There are numerous people in masks and everyone seems to be talking to you at once. Some nurses like to chit chat and ask about your home life. When that happens, I laugh and tell them I'm too stoned to remember I even have a family. This time, I could clearly answer questions.

Then your arms are strapped down to the table, a mask comes at your face, you are told to breathe in deeply and soon you will take a nice nap.... I remember thinking, wow, that mask is pink! What a pretty pink mask. Did I get a pink mask because I'm a girl?

Darkness. It's so fast with general anesthesia. No drifting away slowly. One moment your la la laing in your head and the next you are OUT. No panic, no falling into darkness. Just... darkness.

I woke up, knowing I was in Recovery but couldn't focus my eyes. The eyelids are too heavy and the vision is blurry at that point. I heard a nurse talking about a blood transfusion and full hysterectomy. I tried to speak, but after a breathing tube has been put in your throat, and it is when you have general anesthesia, you're a bit hoarse for a few days. I managed to eek out, "Me? I lost blood?" The nurse said, "Oh no, honey, that wasn't you. They just took out your right ovary and right tube. You're doing great."

I closed my eyes and have no clue how long I was out. When I opened them, I saw a clock that said 145pm and I was still in Recovery. Surgery had begun at 10am. No clue how long I was in recovery but at that point, I knew clearly that I HUUUUUURT. It felt like labor pains. I still couldn't see or talk well, but managed to say, "Pain. Hurt. Help." The nurse told me to press a button she had placed in my hand to deliver pain meds. I did, it didn't work. I heard her say, "We need to get this girl something stronger. I hate to see her in pain." She came back with morphine, I think? Felt like morphine. Not that I have a lot of experience with drugs, but I have been in the hospital a time or two. Yep, morphine. One quick injection into the IV and I was out again.

Then I remembered something very familiar. When Avalon was in the NICU, she was hooked up to breathing monitors. Preemies often forget to breathe. When that happens, the alarm has a shrill ring and the nurses know to watch the baby. The baby usually begins to breathe on their own. If they don't, the nurse can pat the baby and the baby will come to and start breathing again. I was in morphine land when I heard a beep. I instantly thought my alarm was going off and it was time to wake up for the day. No... I was hitting the alarm clock and it was still ringing. Wait a minute... I know that sound! I must be back in the NICU! I kept trying to reach for Avalon to shake her little body so she could breathe. Why wasn't Avalon breathing? Oh well, someone will help her. I'm just too tired to save Avalon. Beep beep beep! The nurse said, "Honey, take a breath. ... come on... breathe for me. BIG breath." ANd I thought, "Yeah Avalon, breathe for us! Huh? Oh? She meant ME! I took a deep breath and the alarm stopped beeping. She said, "Ok, remember you need to breathe, ok? Don't stop breathing on me again!" Breathe breathe breathe... morphine la la la la ... hope I don't die in the Recovery Room. Must stay awake and breathe breathe breathe... stay awake, ZZZZZ.

The next thing I knew I was looking at at Matt's face looking over me. I thought I was dead and saying goodbye to him. I saw people behind him in the waiting room. Was I dead or not? I refuse to have a death experience with strangers watching me from the waiting room. So typical, I have to die on display! I instantly began to cry. "That's normal after anesthesia," the nurses told him. "We're going to take her to her room now." Oh, I'm not dead. YAY I kept breathing! I fell back asleep, then woke up in a room. Opened eyes, more sobbing. Another nurse said, "Honey, it's ok, it's normal to cry after surgery. Are you in pain?" I tried to say I wanted more morphine, but was given that IV pump trigger. I hit it and ahhhh much better. It worked that time.

I'm not sure what happened after that. I talked to Matt a bit. I dope dialed some friends. It's just like drunk dialing, especially since friends don't expect to hear from you. I don't even know how my cell phone got in my hand. Matt I guess. I wonder what I said??

I was in a shared room. I told you that would happen! Worst of all, I was sharing with an old lady who couldn't control her bowels. I named her The Smellderly because she could really stink up the room. Sharing a room is the worst. She was in bad shape and when nurses when come to check on me, they had to quickly do something to help her. Luckily she just slept during the afternoon so I slept too. Until about 9pm, when every relative in the world began calling her. I kept hitting my pain meds, hoping I could just dope myself into sleep. It worked.

An hour later, I woke up thinking I needed to change a diaper. I remember thinking I smelled poop, Juna must be dirty. I paged a nurse to help me get up to change my baby. When you're that drugged, you can kind of process thoughts, but not too coherently. The nurse came in and her eyes got wide and she whispered, "OH MY GOD. " She told me it wasn't my baby and go back to sleep. She gave me some anti nausea medicine and quickly cleaned up The Smellderly who had pooped all over the bed. WHich meant all the lights came on and there was a lot of commotion. No more sleep for me. Hit the pain pump, nothing. You cannot sleep through The Smellderly.

That happened all night. It was a bad night. Between her pooping and her IV pump alarm going off every ten minutes with a shrill beep that could not be stopped without a nurses help, I did not sleep. Thank goodness I was so high that it didn't seem real.

The next morning I put off drugging myself so I could beg one of the friendly young nurses to please move me to a private room oh please oh please. She agreed no one should have to endure that stench, and in a few moments, I had a brand new room assignment but the room wouldn't be ready for five hours Five hours of The Smellderly. And Smellderly would not call the nurses to empty her bed pan. She'd leave them to stench up the room. I ended up pressing the buzzer each time I smelled her poop. WHY was that woman put in a shared room? She needed her own room from the start and she'd already been there one week.

I was taken off the morphine and told to get out of bed and walk the halls. Wander I did. Matt had come to visit and he and I traveled all around the halls so I could escape The Smellderly and her stench. Did my red Disney Crocs cause a sensation or not! Nurses appreciate Crocs and they really liked the Mickey head holes. That is one setting where red Disney Crocs are appropriate attire. I was told to try to pee and poop and as soon as I could, we could discuss me going home. Pee and poop? I could do this! But the bathroom? They dumped her dirty bed pans in the bathroom trash can. The bathroom reeked over The Smellderly. I was supposed to sit in there and concentrate on my own business??? Oh, and have you ever sat on a toilet after abdominal surgery? Wow, paaaaaaainful.

Soon my room was ready!! I settled happily into my own room and watched as much TV as loud as I wanted without the covers over my nose to block out the stench of rotting intestines. I had dinner, which I could eat because I wasn't gagging from Smellderly. I refused pain meds in favor of strong Ibuprofin. I had enough of that stoned feeling. A control freak like me can only take so much. I managed to sleep through the night, which isn't saying much in the hospital. Vitals are taken every few hours. The nurses would say hi, I'd hand over my arm, then go back to sleep. So unlike me. I usually get so freaked out in hospitals I don't sleep for days. I was loving being alone in that room, I just relaxed and passed out.

Your nurses can make or break the experience. I had a lot of nursing students when I was with Smellderly. They were so frazzled by her and the demands of the floor that they kept forgetting to tend to me. I had to give reminders for meds or food. Once the older nurses came on staff, everything changed. They kept on strict schedules and everything ran smoothly. And once I got into a private room, no one ever forgot any of my needs. That's the key-private room means better treatment. More than one person in a room and things can get off track and confusing. Especially when the room is stanky.

I had the best nurse on night two. She was from the Phillipines and would come in and say, "Hiya Mama Mia. Time for your medicines little mommy. " She was hilarious! I always get the best nurses on the nights I don't need their help. Most of them come by to say hello and chat for a bit and tell me their stories. It's nice to have that company.

The next morning I was told I could go home right after breakfast. I felt great! I got to shower and get ready. Matt got me and brought me home about 9am. Juna instantly rejected me and wouldn't come near me. Avie just smiled and waved and kept playing. Boo was at school but I was told she had been crying for me. It's awful to come home feeling so out of control. I cannot pick them up or care for them for a week. That's when the pain hit. I took some medicine and slept all afternoon.

The cyst had grown so large within the ovary, it had taken over the ovary and made it useless. It was pretty much all cyst at that point. My right ovary hasn't functioned in quite some time. I was told my cycles will still be normal, but might hit menopause two years earlier than usual.

I am to do nothing for one week. Between Matt and my mom, we should be covered. I feel like hell, but should feel normal in two weeks time. Juna will warm up to me again, Boo will adjust nicely and Avie is always Avie. Nothing phases her.

My hour is up and I am going to lay down and watch QVC. Goodbye until I can sit up for longer periods of time. Thanks for the well wishes, too! Much appreciated!

2007-11-30T11:32:00.001-07:00

I'm home but I feel like hell. Back to bed until I feel better. Then I'll tell you all the amusing and gory details.

Surgery

2007-11-27T06:51:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I shall have surgery to remove an ovarian cyst. Thanks, PCOS. Thanks so much for yet another stupid complication.

See you on the other side. Of surgery. Not THE other side. I don't plan on checking out just yet!

City Moms

2007-11-21T18:46:00.001-07:00

There's a lot of hooplah over suburban moms and housewives right now. The money, the dysfunction, the craziness.

Let me tell you something. City moms and housewives are just as crazy. I'm one of them and if that isn't enough proof for you, I don't know what would be.

Let me give you a peek into my day as an example.

Today was my Lasik consultation. I might shop the bargains for fashion but I won't shop the bargains for an eye surgeon. The doc I chose is accomplished and expensive. If we can swing another financed payment, Merry Christmas to me. If not, I'll just have to audition my little heart out until I gather enough dough to pay for the pleasure of eyesight without assistance.

Oh, let me just say that as I was driving home under overcast skies, with the wind whipping the red and orange leaves every which way, The Cure's "Lovesong" was playing on the radio. How perfect is that song for that setting? I had a moment in my Mom Mobile. It made me wonder what other moms listen to in their Mom Mobiles when the kids aren't around? I often laugh to myself because here I am, the mommiest of the mommies in the mommiest of vehicles and I'm blasting N.W.A and LOVING IT!

I get home to find a message on the machine from another City Mom. She's one of my working mom friends, so I don't see her as often as I'd like. Picture a stylish and professional blonde married to an accomplished husband living in a city home that always gives me house envy.

Now picture her leaving a message on my machine, asking if she could come over to my house... and vacuum.

Yes, you read that correctly. She wanted to come over and vacuum.

Yeah, like I'd turn that down!

She came over and brought her expensive and amazing twin side by side jogging stroller for me to borrow as well. Did you know some moms judge other moms by their stroller? Oh yeah, my stroller's been given the once over too many times to fathom. Now I'll give that crowd something to judge. The reason I'm in love is because it's soooo smooth and turns on a dime. It's the BMW of jogging strollers. You've seen me, of course I don't jog. I do walk and this stroller will be oh so comfortable to push on my walks.

My friend brings in the stroller and her brand new Dyson. She says, "I told my hair stylist today that I was so worried I offended you by asking to come vacuum. It's a sickness how much I love using this thing."

"Offended? I was overjoyed. Have at it!"

I made dinner while Matt played with the kids while my friend vacuumed the house. She told me I didn't have to help or shadow her, just sit down and eat. She was happy vacuuming.

TWO HOURS LATER, we said goodbye.

Two hours later! That woman moved furniture. She cleaned under beds. She vacuumed baseboards. And emptied tankful after tankful, filled with gray fuzz.

At one point she moved the ottoman, saw a pile of those new multi colored fruity Cheerios, and said, "YES! Orgasm time!"

I was embarrassed at first that my grime was exposed. After an hour, I just relaxed and figured hey, she was getting her jollies and I was getting clean carpeting.

I kid, but I was actually extremely appreciative. With surgery next week, I won't be able to vacuum, so she was really doing me a favor. The stroller, the vacuuming, and the laughs we shared made for a memorable evening.

There may not be white picket fences and four car garages, but we City Moms are just as nutty as our suburban counterparts.

It's more fun that way.

Happy Thanksgiving, you turkeys. I'll be back next week to bid you adieu before my surgery hiatus.

Mutha Honors

2007-11-19T18:03:00.001-07:00

Check it owwwwwt. Who has the 41st most linked blog on You Tube in the How To category?

Yes, I'm celebrating the fact that I'm number 41. Look, the only people who really give a toss about my show are my friends and the loyal lovelies who read this blog. The fact that I made it to 41 is nothing short of a miracle. Help me celebrate by doing the woman failing miserably in her attempt to create a mommy show dance.

I can see clearly now that the road to a career in television is going to be a bumpy one.

What I cannot see clearly is... pretty much anything. How blind am I? I cannot function without my glasses. Got them at age 12, have hated them since. Even my beloved Chanel glasses and sunglasses with the bling. Considering I'm willing to give up my Chanel prescription glasses, that tells you how badly I want this whole Lasik thing. I'm seeing an eye guy on Weds to see if it's possible. I'm so psyched, I can barely function. After all I've been through, you think a little laser to the eyeballs frightens me?

Today I'm meeting my friend, mother of Boo's best friend, and various members of my fam to hear that soup song performed live at the Boo school. Finally. Maybe the ear worm soup song will now DIE DIE DIE! I'm bringing All My Children, so I hope I can actually watch the play. It's smack dab in the middle of nap time, so I'm not holding my breath. I have a feeling I'll be the mom in the hallway calming down two screaming me-me's.

I was asked to video tape and have passed along the duty to the husband. I have a feeling that will be my room mother duty from here to eternity. I'm not crafty, I don't bake, I can't come up with games. Might as well be Video Mom. I'm obviously good at being Video Mom.

I'm #41 in my category on You Tube, dontcha know.

Liver Tea

2007-11-18T14:57:00.001-07:00

This weekend we took All My Children to Starbucks. Mommy Brain made me space out on the two kid-friendly coffee houses in our "zone."

I forget what I was saying to Matt when we approached Starbucks, but it ended with, "...is such a pain in the butt."

Three year old Boo said from the back of the car, "Butt! You said butt! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Then Boo sighed happily and said with much enthusiasm, "Butt is such a great word!"

We walked into Starbucks with Boo saying, "I love the word butt."

While the fire in the fireplace was so delightful, the other patrons were not there to listen to three kids squealing, and barking, yes barking, and shouting, "Butt is a great word!" We quickly made our exit.

Boo is finally going to perform that soup song at school during the Thanksgiving play. Not a moment too soon. What an ear worm, that song. I often find myself going about my day while singing, "You've heard of chicken soup and turkey soup and chowder made with claaaaams.... "

The older kids are singing a song about America. Boo began singing the song at dinner.

Boo: (singing) America! America! With liver-tea from sea to sea!
Me: Liver tea? I'd love a cup!
Matt: Sounds tasty.
Me: What is liberty, Boo?
Boo: Liver-tea is a big castle in America.
Matt: Technically, America was founded after the time of castles.
Boo: Liver- tea is a mountain with a castle covered in ice cubes.
Matt: Sounds like Superman's fortress.
Boo: Who's Soup Man?
Me: Soup Man drinks liver- tea
Matt: No soup for you!

Know what goes great with liver-tea?

My show.

A new episode has been posted.

Juna milestone

2007-11-18T14:03:00.000-07:00

She dances to the sound of the garbage disposal.

She squeals with delight when I open the freezer and carries frozen dinners around in her little hands while saying, "Brrrrr."

She tries to do somersaults when her big sister does them.

She kicks a soccer ball back and forth across the room.

She twirls around like a ballerina when she hears classical music.

When I say, "love," she will find her baby sister and hug her, then grin and giggle.

When her baby sister wakes up, she will run screaming with delight into the nursery to see her.

She is both terrified and fascinated with her big sister, and will copy her every move, including coloring with crayons.

She is now completely weaned and it took three weeks, even tho her baby sister still gets bottles. She is so proud to get a sippie cup and carries it everywhere she goes.

She understands most everything we say to her but can only say, "All gone."

She has been with us for 5 months and is now 13 months old.

Oh Juna. You're starting to look like a toddler. I love watching you grow, but am also sad that my little baby is becoming a such a big girl.

All gone!

2007-11-15T18:24:00.000-07:00

I've told you before how my 12 month old only is quite fond of, "All gone."

All gone means she's leaving the room.
All gone means she's back in the room again.
All gone means she dropped a toy.
All gone means her food is all gone.
All gone means let go of me now!
All gone means get away from me, Big Sister, you're pissing me off!

This particular all gone moment happened after a lunch of cottage cheese and applesauce. She was happily telling me her lunch was all gone, so I grabbed the video camera to finally get an all gone on tape. The oh boy at the end is me recognizing I had a bit of a mess to clean off her tray.

Aaaand then I made a mom of two babies rookie mistake. I turned away to clean up the less messy baby first. Av is a pretty clean eater, while Juna just goes for it, full force. I turned back and discovered this. The vid camera was handy, so I couldn't resist.

It took a long time to all gone that mess, let me tell ya.

More ME ME ME

2007-11-13T14:40:00.001-07:00

I got my hair cut. I got my hair cut. Whee whee whee I got my hair cut. Wait, I haven't fully annoyed you yet. One more time! I got my hair cut!

The last time I had my hair cut was in China. My bob had grown out into a blob. All round and shapeless. Like me!

I watched the footage I shot this weekend and felt my blob haircut was looking pretty blerg. Thankfully I had a hair appointment scheduled for today. I was flying blind with a new stylist. A relative of Drrrrrrty Gale, my buddy who earned that nickname last night in my dream. I feel dirty today. Drrrrrty Gale kept turning into Ryan Stiles. We were someplace Disney. It was so wrong. I'm so sorry Gale.

Drrrrty Gale was on my mind because he said to call him should I get lost en route to the stylist. The stylist is located in The West County. I never leave The City. The West County is out of my zone. Drrrty was quite wise to offer directional guidance because, of course, I got lost.

I was in the parking lot of Burlington Coat Factory, somewhere on Manchester Road. I was sweaty and confused and not just because it's 70 degrees in Mid November in St. Louis. Seriously, I have red tomatoes on the vine with roses in full bloom. Why did that sound as Drrrrty as Gale's nickname?

I made my frantic call to Drrrrrty:

Me: I'm lost. I'm in the Burlington Coat Factory parking lot.
Drrttty: Ok, look up. Do you see a road?
Me: Yes. Is that Manchester Road?
Drrttty: Yes. Do you see a building in front of you?
Me: Yes.
Drrttty: Do you see an "M" on the building.
Me: Yes.
Drrrrty: Does it say Metro Design Studio?
Me: Yes.
Drrrty: -------
Me: Oh. OH! I'm here! I'm not lost at all! I'm actually parked right in front of the salon! Thanks, Drrrrty Gale!!

The salon itself was like nothing I've experienced before. It was private room after tiny private room. No front desk or lobby. Just a bunch of rooms that could be closed off with curtains drawn. For all the celebrity clients we get in St. Louis? You can that kind of private luxury in The West County. The anti social freak in me totally dug it. I pretended I was special.

Miss J spent an hour and a half working on my hair. It's the most I've ever paid for a hair cut and looks it. She took five pounds off my face. I would have paid double just for that. But to get a sleek cut at the same time? Sweeet. I'd say you could check it in the next few episodes of the show, but you'll see the grown out blobby blergy haircut instead.

Then I did what any A Lister does after a hair cut. I ate at White Castle. I'm classy like that.

This entry was typed while Yo Gabba Gabba played in the background for the very first time in this house And for the last time. Juna took one look at those funky monsters and ran screaming from the room. I have to admit that I rewound Nathaniel's dance about ten times.

You rock, Nathaniel.

And so does my hair. Thanks, Drrrrty. I'd show it to you in person, but I'll never be able to look you in the eyes again.

Me Time. Finally.

2007-11-12T13:19:00.000-07:00

I got together with the girls this weekend.

Not the All My Children girls.

Girls who are fully potty trained and do not have accidents in their pants. At least not lately.

My friend had a mommy hobby party. Bring your your current hobby and work on it on her basement. As long as your current hobby is not schtupping the pool boy. None of us have pools, so my friend's retro orange couch was safe from schtupping.

What wasn't safe from my hobby were my friends. I taped two internet shows and got footage for a third. That meant each of my friends had to go on camera. Some didn't know they were going on camera until they showed up. "Hey, sit right here. I need to interview you for my show." Aren't I a great friend? Don't you wish you knew me in person?

I drank beer. I didn't watch my mouth. I didn't feel the need to censor myself for the sake of looking good in front of others. These ladies have known me long enough that there's no hope of ever looking good in front of them again.

10 hours later as I was driving home, I realized I haven't been out of the house alone for longer than an hour in over a year. I was on bed rest this time last year. So yeah, it's been a loooong time.

When I got home, All My Children were asleep. When we all woke up the next morning, they looked cuter and were much less annoying than the previous day. No doubt they were thinking the same thing about me.

It's important to find the right balance between Motherhood and Yourself. Too much Me Time and you're not much good to the family. Not enough Me Time and you're not much good to anyone.

Why does finding the right balance have to be so tricky?

We Live For This Stuff

2007-11-08T07:18:00.001-07:00

Conversation I had with myself while checking the stats for my little internet show blog.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Oooh! Take a look at this! Someone from E! Entertainment Television has been watching my shows!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
That must be typo. No way would someone from E! be interested in your show.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Yeah, look! Twice!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
Unless of course, they're reaaaaaaally bored.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Who cares! Someone in the "biz" watched my show!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
An bored intern trying to get his kicks during lunch. He saw Mom and Video, thought woohoo free p*rn, and then saw you.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Maybe it was Ryan Seacrest!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
Yeah. Ryan Seacrest has nothing better to do than watch some Midwestern mom give a video tour of Grant's Farm.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
It would be so cool if it really was Ryan Seacrest.

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
What's this sudden obsession with Ryan Seacrest?

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Well, Ryan was an unknown TV show host, right? Then came American Idol and it got huge and suddenly Ryan has a big contract with E! and hosting all kinds of shows and formed a production company and is also a producer. He's successful doing what he loves to do and he's making killer money. Not a bad life.

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
You want to be Ryan Seacrest don't you.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Well...um... ok! Yeah, ok! You happy? I want this. Dammit! I want this!!! I don't care if people are laughing at me or will be laughing at me if it doesn't happen. I am proud to tell the world I WANT THIS DAMMIT!!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
Ok, ok, calm down you big freak show. Well, did the folks at E! contact you? Does someone think you're the next big star of do it yourself television?

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Ooh, I got an email on the Word To Your Mutha Show account!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
It's Ryan Seacrest. He wants to produce your show for his new production company. Keeping up with the Kardashians wasn't doing it for him. He sees the future and it's Mommy Programming.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Damn. Another email saying I've won the Irish lottery.

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
Well there you go. Someone out there thought enough to email you.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Would have been cool if it was Ryan Seacrest.

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
Would have been cool if you actually won the lottery.

Dreamy Impulsive Me:
Yeah, that's an option, too! Then I could REALLY make my show!

Practical Pain In The Ass No Fun Me:
You're so cute when you're being unrealistic.

Reality Sometimes Bites

2007-11-07T21:21:00.001-07:00

I was thinking about the previous post I had written and wondered what drove me to those insecure and freaked out spiraling out of control thoughts.

It all came down to the frustration that I can't have it all.

It made me wonder if others had the same thoughts.

Of course they do.

The women of my generation and the generations that came next were raised to believe they could have it all. We were raised by women who became mothers in an age where women were finally having it all. Women had choices. They didn't have to be stay at home housewives. They could be mothers and get out there rule the world.

What these women didn't tell us was that you really can't have it all.

Something always has to give.

The working career mother sits in her office and misses what's happening at home.

The stay at home mother sits in her living room and wonders what she's missing at the office.

The two income family wonders what to do when their childcare provider is sick.

The one income family wonders if they will ever afford a vacation.

The 19 year old mother holds her baby and wonders what she's missing out on.

The 36 year first time mother knows and sometimes she misses it.

One mother looks at her only child and imagines a life with more kids. If only she could have them.

Another mother looks at her household filled with kids and wishes for a break.

One mother gets stretched too thin while the other wishes she had more challenges.

We all do it. We all sit and wonder. We all dream. We all worry. We all face challenges.

That is motherhood. And no one tells you that going into it. No one warns you that even if you desperately wanted that child, there will be times you wish you could get in your car and speed away from them. That even if you choose to stay home, you will often question that choice. Or if you go back to work, you will think about what you might be missing out on at home.

No one tells you that you cannot have it all. Something will always have to give.

Be it time with the kids, time alone, money, the career, sleep, sanity.

Not one mother has it all.

Having it all is completely impossible.

More mothers need to talk about this. More mothers need to speak up and say that yes, the job is demanding. It's demanding and wonderful and amazing and awful and horrible, all at the same time. Mothers will always wonder if the grass is greener on the other side. It's part of being a woman. We're the ones who always ask the questions. We are always inside our heads, thinking, wondering, questioning.

And it's ok.

It's ok that we do that and it's ok that we look at our lives from time to time and sigh and wish we had it differently. And it's ok to make plans and dream. And it's ok to put those plans into action and make them real. And it's also ok to look at what we've done and wonder if we made the right choice. Do we continue to make the right choices?

There are good days and there are nightmarish days. The same hormones that help us bond with our children can turn on us and make us bitchy and irritable and make us seriously dislike our family for an evening.

Motherhood. Some days are awful with this job. The good news is there are more good days than bad days.

Motherhood. You cannot have it all with motherhood.

And if more women knew that going in, it would make their experience so much easier to handle.

Mutha Confessor

2007-11-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

Someone wrote about me in their blog today. It was something nice! I was tickled to see that. There was a time in my blogging history that the opposite occurred on a regular basis. Eh, I'm not the same blogger I used to be. I'm not the same person I used to me. Motherhood has changed me. Some might say motherhood has lobotomized me. I've definitely mellowed. But I'm still in there. Somewhere.

Today was one of those days that the girl I used to be fought the woman I've become and got her butt kicked.

What happened to the confident, self assured, dream a big dream and make it come true girl from my youth who wasn't phased by anything?

The insanity all started with a series of events involving Boo. Issues like- today was accident day #5. Or her breaking down several days in a row at school because she can't zip her coat. All the other kids know how to zip their coats. Boo does not and she freaks out and becomes so upset, she cannot join the others outside. Then hearing of her latest test results and learning perhaps Boo really shouldn't test for the gifted program, as was previously suggested.

It was all at once, bam bam bam. I stood in her classroom and felt dizzy. I instantly blamed myself. What am I doing wrong? Why is she having accidents? I just want what is best for Boo and that's fine about not qualifying for the gifted program. But the zipper? Why didn't I teach her to use a zipper? I got her a zipper coat this year. Why didn't I think of that?

Then we got home and I found out she didn't eat lunch because it was fish sticks and Boo hates fish sticks. Why didn't I stop to check the lunch calendar and pack a lunch instead?

Why are these simple things slipping past me?

I sat with Boo on the floor to cuddle her and Juna flew over to us and beat Boo over the head with her little fists while screaming, "GONE GONE GONE!" Juna became hysterical and wouldn't calm down until Boo moved off my lap, which upset Boo and made her cry.

Meanwhile Avie played happily with her blocks, speaking in her new possessed by demons voice. "Bahhhhhhh. Maaaaaa! AHHHHHH!" It would have been hilarious if I wasn't gripped with the fear that I couldn't remember the last time I changed her diaper. She's smiling lovingly at me and I'm in tears because Avie is always the forgotten baby. Yet she's the happiest child in the house.

I sat there, with Junie screaming and Boo crying and Avie smiling and thought the following:

I love my kids
But sometimes I hate motherhood.
And today, I hate myself.

I hated the fact that today, I wasn't very good at motherhood. I hated the fact that today I hated motherhood at all. I hated the fact that I felt I should be grateful to even have kids in the first place. That constant infertility and adoption guilt. "I should be so grateful I even have the kids. I've waited so long to have them, I just should constantly enjoy the experience."

It doesn't work that way. Not even for those blessed with easy fertility.

I realize that and yet it doesn't stop the guilt.

I knew going into this that I'd have these days. Frequently. With little to no family help, especially lately, no babysitters, and no time off- ever- a mom can get burned out. Quickly. It's been almost one solid year of zero Me Time that didn't involve the kids. The last time Matt and I were alone together was in Hong Kong and I passed out at 6pm while he went out with friends. But that was the deal we signed up for. We knew there would be little Me Time or Us time for a Long Time.

I thought about my recent inadequacies as a mother and wondered if I should just go back to work. Certainly they'd be better off with a professional caregiver? And that's when panic attack #47 for the day occurred. Go back to work. Doing what? The only skills I have beyond motherhood are reading out loud and sounding really good. Not much call for that on a daily basis.

Panic attack number #48. Oh my god. What am I going to do with myself when the kids are all in school?

I don't even have a resume.

And I'd look like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl when she had the big bad hair and the awful clothes, walking into an office filled with sleek and stylish women. Except I'd be the mid 90s version, since that was the last time I had an actual job.

If I was a plane, I'd be entering the death spiral at this point. The thoughts, just spinning, spinning, spinning, completely out of control.

It got even worse.

I started wondering if my lack of any decent parenting skills lately is because of any new distractions? The stupid internet show? Can't be. I have seven completed scripts, just ready to be shot. Written while the kids slept. It comes to easily to me, the little internet show, that I can dash off a script in under 30 minutes, complete with a shot sheet and and voice over list. Oh the internet show. It brings me happiness, which scares me because I'd love to do that for a living but come on let's get real. Blogging? Again, this comes easily to me that an entry takes just a few moments when the kids sleep. Oh, could the distractions be the voice over work I do professionally? It's a bit slow right now, so no. take away the silly hobbies of the show and the freelance voice work and... there's nothing.

Which made me freak out some more. A stupid internet show that's never going to go anywhere and a voice over career stalled. And a three year old who keeps wetting herself and a one year old jealous of anything that prevents me from holding her constantly, and a 10 month old who isn't getting enough of my time and yet keeps on smiling and a husband who hasn't seen me naked in months on end and a house that's falling apart and a woman who hasn't eaten a full meal in weeks because of her new diet and yet she still can't lose weight and- why am I even complaining at least we're all healthy, tra la la, find your happy place! Oops, yeah, surgery in three weeks and another round of Benign or Malignant.

Kaboom! The plane crashes to the ground in a ball of fire.

Fortunately, the plane had a magical eject button. I flew through the air and landed comfortably at The Mommy Spa. A quiet retreat just for mommies that exists inside my head. Massages? Just tell us how many and what kind? They're yours. Pampering? What type do you desire? Cleaning and cooking? Not on your life! While you're at the Mommy Spa, Mary Poppins has taken your place at home. When you arrive home, 20 pounds thinner and looking radiant from 9 hours of sleep each night, your child will no longer have accidents. You will be able to walk across the room without your velcro baby falling to pieces. You will get a whole day to love on the littlest baby who never gets the attention she deserves. But before Mary Poppins leaves, you and your husband get a much needed night alone. Mommy Spa, take me away!

It's where I escape to on days like these. The Mommy Spa. Such a happy little place.

Freakin pathetic. The girl I used to be is soooo disappointed.

So to the person who wrote such nice things about me, thinking I have it all together, I'm sorry. I'm a fraud. Perhaps I'm also a bit of a failure. All I'm doing is loving my kids and trying not to drown in a sea of insecurity and the unknown. That should be enough, but sometimes it isn't.

Sometimes Motherhood sucks.
And sometimes I suck at Motherhood.

I hope this post doesn't disappoint you.

Ham has a name

2007-11-06T17:59:00.000-07:00

Miss Boo discovered the joy of drawing late in life. While her peers began drawing and coloring at about two years old, Boo only became interested last month and she's about to turn four. The frustration I had with trying to get her interested in coloring has been replaced with the joy of teaching her to draw her favorite objects. Like flowers, butterflies, and Captain Toilet.

From what I have gathered from the drawings, Captain Toilet has a toilet seat for a head and wears a long cape. Mrs. Toilet has the same head, but wears a dress. She has long eyelashes and 20 fingers on each hand. Then there's the baby toilets. They are round and expressionless.

Today Boo drew the Toilet family and added a small round-ish object with a long tail next to the baby toilets. I asked what it was. She replied, "Duh Mom, the baby toilets unraveled the toilet paper!!"

Once she tired of Captain Toilet, I showed her how to make a Christmas tree. Triangle tree. Square trunk. Round ornaments. And a round tree topper. She's not quite ready for stars.

Boo drew a series of trees in various colors, loaded with ornaments and lights. The trees appeared to be topped with long hair. I asked her what that was about. Her reply? "Christmas trees are covered in fur, Mommy." I asked if she meant fir, instead of fur? "No, they're covered in fur. That's how they stay warm outside."

Boo paused while drawing a hot pink fuzzy Christmas tree:

Boo: Mom, his name is Edward.

Me: Huh?

Boo: The boy who plays ham. His name is Edward.

Me: Oh! Mystery solved!

Boo: It's ED-ward. Not Egg-ward.

Me: You were calling him Eggward, weren't you?

Boo: Yeah....but he's ham.

Then Boo put down the colors and began running back and forth across the room, picking imaginary flowers and singing this song:

What kind of flower can you be?
What kind of flower can you be?
If you want to be a flower you can be!
Flower, flower, flower flower!
If you want to be a flower, you can be!
You can be a daisy or a rose.
If you want to be a flower you can be!
You can be seaweed.
That's not my favorite flower.
That's not a flower.
What kind of flower can you be?
If you want to be a flower, you can be.
If you want to be a flower you can be!

What is that kid going to be when she grows up? I'm hoping that imagination of hers makes her very very very rich.

Refreshingly Clean!

2007-11-05T18:23:00.001-07:00

I have recently discovered Orbit gum. As with everything in my life, I'm a bit late to the party. That stuff is awesome. You can chew and chew and chew and never run out of flavor.

The reason this is so important to me is that when I get into the car, I instantly pop a mint or gum. I honestly cannot drive unless I do this. It's always the first leg of my journey, from garage to destination. I cannot concentrate on the road unless I have minty fresh breath. Hence, the excitement over a stick of gum. I can reach my destination and still have a mouth full of minty refreshment.

We bought the variety pack at Costco. I had popped the bubble gum flavor after lunch today. It was either gum or dive into Boo's Halloween candy. I popped two pieces so I could blow bubbles for the babies.

I put Junie on my lap and blew the first bubble. She stared in amazement, then reached her finger forward ever to tentatively to pop the bubble. We repeated those actions four or five times, bringing squeals of delight each time.

Then on bubble #6, I got a bit carried away with the amount of breath I pushed into the bubble. Instead of producing a bubble, I sent the wad straight into Juna's face.

The squeals of delight turned into shrieks of anguish. Juna freaked out. Both of us reaching for her face to remove the wad of gum. Both of us clonking into each other and missing the gum. Her thrashing about and wailing, "GONE GONE GONE GONE GONE!"

I popped the gum back into my mouth. A trip onto my baby's face did not diminish the flavor. Juna wriggled out of my lap and onto the floor. I decided to try another bubble, hoping to change her mood. Nope. The sight of the bubble made her scream and run into the other room while repeating, "GONE GONE GONE GONE GONE!"

20 years from now, Juna will be in therapy trying to get to the bottom of why the smell of bubble gum gives her the heebie jeebies.

Second Hand Anger

2007-11-04T15:09:00.000-07:00

As we ate dinner Friday evening, Boo leaned over her plate and her hair fell into food. She made an angry growling noise as she pushed her hair back from her face. "I hate this long hair! It gets in the way when I eat and sleep. I want it cut off!"

I asked if she was serious. I told her every long haired beauty entertains the idea of chopping it all off from time to time. Once it's gone, it's not coming back for a loooong time. "CUT IT OFF!" Boo yelled. "I want to look like Kennedy!"

Kennedy, her friend who has a cute little bob. I held Boo's hair back in the mirror to show her what it would look like. "Yes," she said excitedly, "Just like Kennedy!"

When she woke the next morning, I asked her again. Are you SURE you want those pretty long curls to go away? And again she said with much enthusiasm, "YES! Cut if OFF!"

We went to the kiddie salon. Boo sat in a firetruck and watched Spongebob while the stylist said to me, " She has Hollywood hair. Ladies in Hollywood pay a lot of money to look like this." I agreed and said it made Boo look much older and I would prefer THAT not happen anytime soon. "She can have all that glamorous hair when she's old enough to take care of it. Make her look three again, please." And she did.

The next morning, there was no screaming as I fixed her hair. No battles over untangling snarled curls. We should have done this years ago.

I'm sure you'll see the new 'do in coming episodes of WTYM-The Acronym. Oh, I had a minor meltdown in regards to the show this week, as all creative geniuses are wont to have. I was pissy because there's only so much I can do with no budget and no crew. I started asking if it was even worth it to continue. Then ahhhhhh I heard angels singing as two new feasible show ideas popped into my head. Then during lunch this weekend ahhhh more angels singing as Matt and I discussed what I would do if I had a crew and a budget. And he was like, "Just do it anyway." And I was like, "YES! Yes I will just do it anyway. Thank you, oh wise and wonderful husband." And he was like, "I'm never going to sleep again, am I?" Because we edit into the wee hours. He's such a nice man to put up with me. What's wrong with him?

I can't wait around, hoping that someday I'll have a crew and a budget. I've got ideas, baby. Good ones. And if I wait too long, someone else will do them.

Or I'll do them and they'll get ripped off by some Hollywood "Mom" with her skinny body, big boobs, and four nannies. "Being a mom is soooo hard. I'll show you how to make your life easier." Uh.. you and I don't even exist on the same planet, so.... you comparing the pros and cons of 500 dollar strollers or showing me the latest toddler fashions that start at 400 bucks an outfit doesn't help me much. But thanks, Hollywood. You sure do understand the needs of the middle class mom.

Speaking of not being able to afford 400 dollar toddler fashions...

I yelled at a woman in the second hand children's clothing store this weekend. I mean, full on lost it on this woman. ME! I lost it on someone!!

I'm a nice person. I'm so Midwestern, it's scary. We're just made to be nice around here. Is it the humidity? We're so zonked out by the humidity that we just can't make the effort to be anything more than pleasant, even in the winter? I don't get it. Even tho my one friend said that she would never cross me, because she feared my wrath. That made me chuckle. Me? I come in peace. I'm not like my mother, who up until recently carried a loaded gun in a Folgers can in the trunk of her car. Make My Day Marge. She has a gun, she has an AARP card.

I don't know if it's the lack of sleep or years of stress or me just coming into my OWN as a woman in her late 30s, but fuse is about this ---- short. And this weekend, a woman lit that fuse.

She thought I had cut her off in the second hand store en route to the register. That wasn't the case. I was hurrying my child, who had to poop, past the register to the bathroom. She got right on my heels while yakking on her cell phone and telling that person what a horrible woman I was for getting in her way. There was no doubt she was talking about me.

BAM! Explosion time. That passive aggressive nonsense doesn't fly with me. I turned around and yelled, I mean yelled, "You want in front of me so badly? Well come on, then! Go! JUST GO!" I waved my arm angrily back and forth. "GO!"

The lady just stopped in her tracks and gave me the deer in headlights look. Everyone around us went silent. Except for me, flapping my arm back and forth and yelling, "GO!"

Wow, can I project.

The lady mumbled, "I was talking about someone else." And quickly walked past.

I yelled after her, "Yeah right, lady! Just gooooooooo!"

That's not like me. I'm the person who sings tra la la in her head and quickly gets out of awkward situations while apologizing and being nice, even when it's clearly not my fault. I cannot stand confrontations. And yes, I maybe it was immature but damn it felt good. It was the typical scenario of a bully backing down when confronted.

Otherwise, a great weekend. I'll have tales of our adventures in sleep training and weaning in the coming days.

Who Needs Sleep?

2007-11-02T07:59:00.001-07:00

We have a unique family situation, there's no doubt about that. We're also a loud family and a fun family where both Mom or Dad fully participate in the madness. We've created a household that is obviously so much fun, the babies don't want to sleep. There's such a lack of sleep in this house that the house is now loud because the babies are constantly screaming, Boo is sick of the noise and she is screaming, and Mom and Dad have been going on weeks with frayed nerves, no sleep, and no breaks. Not a fun house any more.

Matt and I are huge believers in sleep training. We rocked Boo to sleep or co-slept with her out of desperation for our own sleep for two years of her life because we didn't know any better. Even with those methods, Boo was still so sleep deprived and so were we. It was creating a lot of issues in our family. Out of desperation, we turned to a professional sleep specialist from one of the local hospitals. She outlined a gentle sleep training program and we sure doubted each of her steps. NO way would THAT work on our no- need- for- sleep toddler.

Sure enough, it worked. It took two weeks, but Boo learned to fall asleep on her own, in her own bed, and sleep through the night. We were believers. We also felt really stupid for not doing it sooner. It's amazing what you'll do when you're that sleep deprived. And as we learned, every child is soooo different when it comes to sleep. Some kids are great sleepers and some... are like our kids! And nothing pissed us off more than telling someone of our woes and having them come back with, "Wow, my kids never have any sleep issues. We all sleep great." Grrrr.

Then we had a preemie and an orphan. Two situations that made us afraid of sleep training because of their backgrounds. And instant twins! Two babies means double the chance you won't sleep. We decided to just get us all through the adjustment period and do whatever it took to get us all to sleep. Then we'd think about sleep training.

Well, here we are with two babies who don't know how to fall asleep on their own. Two babies who must be rocked to sleep. Two babies who only nap for 20 minutes a day. Two babies who barely sleep at all overnight. And two very exhausted, very frazzled, very upset parents.

In other words, we screwed up again. I try to cut us some slack because we were suddenly in such a strange situation. Plus, you'll do anything to get a baby to sleep when you're desperate for your own sleep. Times that by two. It's no wonder we're in this situation.

The less a baby sleeps, the less a baby sleeps. They build up a hormone in their body that helps them stay awake for long periods of time. To break that cycle, the baby needs to sleep. Since we cannot go down this road any longer, especially with multiples, it's time for sleep training.

Oh how I hate sleep training. It's two weeks of hell. Two weeks of angry babies, nervous parents, and the worry that it just won't work and we'll never sleep again. But hey, that's what's happening now. It cannot get any worse in the sleep department. Something has to be done.

Sleep Training Multiples Day 1 has begun.

I would normally rock Juna to sleep while Avie played quietly at my feet. Then I'd rock Avie to sleep. Now Avie climbs up my body and wants to smack her sister on the head. And since they are so sleep deprived, they wouldn't nap for longer than 20 minutes. Weird how that works.

Today I put both in their cribs, gave them lovies, patted their heads, and left the room.

Oh the horror. Oh the tears. And the babies were upset, too.

I did what the sleep trainer taught me. I kept going in and soothing them, but not picking them up. Rubbing bellies, reassuring, soothing. It took an hour but eventually, both babies got the point and curled up and fell asleep. Juna first, then Avie.

It's amazing how twins can sleep through each other's angry cries. Even "artificial twins" like mine.

Ok, so here we go. Another adventure in parenting. Sleep training multiples. This has to work. This has to work. Seriously, this has to work. If it doesn't, my family will self destruct.

We can do this!

Video- The Babies

2007-11-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

Huge hits today from the China adoption crowd, courtesy of Rumor Queen. I'd like to say HELLO and welcome to my blog! The Halloween costume pic is in the next post. Just for you, I'm posting this quick video of the babies taken yesterday, before the costumes. If you were anything like me during the wait, this kind of thing made you hang in there just a little bit harder.

I know, I know. Juna's mommy dresses her funny. I've got to get outfits better suited to her. Those were Miss Boo's and work fine on Avie. Juna needs more tailored baby clothes.

Just a few seconds of cuteness. Enjoy.

WOW, it's so freaky to have more than 8 readers today!!

Halloween pics

2007-11-01T06:31:00.001-07:00

Oh Juna. My darling Juna. Mommy is so so so sorry. It looked a lot less dorky on the hanger.

Avie looks nice and toasty. 72 degrees. Typical Midwestern October weather craziness. I just wanted simple jammie type costumes for the babies, since they'd only be in them one hour before bed during trick or treating, if that. It was more for Boo than anyone else. She barely noticed them, so excited was she over her own costume.

Boo's school had a costume parade on the playground. Older kids sat on benches and watched the littler grades march by while oohing and ahhing for them. I LOVED when the Kindergarten class came out and saw the preschoolers and said, "Oh, look at the little ones!" Little ones. You are one year older. Hah!

The kids marched while music was played on the loudspeakers. Then they asked the kids to gather around the building and chant, "Candy Monster, Candy Monster!" Suddenly the coach appeared on the roof and threw candy down on the kids. Mass candy chaos. It was great.

I love this pic. Here's Boo in her "Mulan" costume. I put her in a dress from China, threw her hair on top of her head, put on black tights and black boots, and gave her a pink sword. She had the last minute idea of drawing a cricket "Crickee" and taping it to her shoulder. I wish you could see the detail on Crickee. He's hilarious. Notice the child to the far left is actually dressed in a real Mulan costume. That was perfect unplanned timing on this picture. That's why I love this age. She has no idea it wasn't the actual Disney store costume, nor did she notice Mulan standing right next to her.

Boo's best friend came over that evening while I switched Boo to her glow worm costume as seen on Word To Your Mutha- the show. My latest little internet video show. Again, it was freakishly warm, so she wasn't able to put up her blinkie light hood until later. I laced a glow bracelet through the pony tail on her head instead.
I was hesitant to put that Halloween costume idea on my show in the first place. It's really way too simple. However, I am pleased to report that Boo was showered with compliments from almost every house on our route. "What a great costume! What an original idea! How did you think of that? That's a great idea! Your mommy is so clever." WOOO! Give this woman a TV show already, dammit, people!!

Boo would walk away from the houses saying, "You were right Mommy. People really do love my costume! That was a good idea! I didn't think so, but you were right!" I replied, "Boo, how soon are you going to realize that Mommy is always right?" SHe looked at me and replied oh so cleverly, "Never."

Here's Boo and Hannah, posing in front of one of the decorated houses. At this point, the wind kicked up and I was able to put up Boo's blinkie hood, which really completed the costume.
The neighborhood was completely shut down for Halloween. All the streets were blocked off. There were parties in the actual street. Parties on the lawns with BBQs and drinks and huge buckets of candy for the kids. The houses that were dark were only dark because they had gathered next door on the lawn with fire pits and huge groups of adults to hand out candy. Some houses had 5 people at a long table with cauldrons filled with treats to hand out. All the houses were over-decorated for Halloween. Almost like professional haunted house displays. The kids could trick or treat from the houses, the lawns and the tables in the streets. And this was block after block after block in our neighborhood. I'm not kidding when I say this neighborhood goes coo coo for the holidays. It's an amazing sight to see. It's one of the last remaining neighborhoods in this country to do such a thing. I'm very proud to live here.

So, what's a mom to do with dozens of glow bracelets after the Halloween night fun is over? Lace them through Boo's Cinderella pumpkin carriage bed. She could look up at them while falling asleep and think she was stoned while watching a Pink Floyd light show.

The amount of candy collected was absurd. I filled a massive bowl with the stuff and told Matt he was taking most of it to work the next day. It's helpful when a dad works with a bunch of bachelors. But most of his coworkers are married and having kids. Can computer geeks get sick of an unlimited supply of candy? We'll find out! Just imagine the load next year with three kids. Oh help us.

Halloween was a blast. I'm so lucky that Boo is in a school that recognizes the joy of an actual Halloween party. I'm so lucky to live in a neighborhood that goes all out for the kids. This is what I waited for all those dark infertility years. Seeing the sheer delight on Boo's face all afternoon and night made me the happiest mom in the world.

Pin The Wart On The Witch

2007-10-30T11:13:00.000-07:00

I've always said this blog is a peek into my life, warts and all.

I never meant that to be literal!

But alas, my friends, it's true. You know you've reached an all time low when you start blogging about your warts.

I have a wart on the bottom of my foot, ok? I know that's not a sexy thing to have. I know it's disgusting. Believe me, I've been frantically applying Wart B Gone products on this sucker for months now to no avail. Oh no- the wrinkle free skin of our youth can't wait to abandon us but a wart on the skin wants to linger around forever.

Today I saw a dermatologist for the very first time. He was a kindly older man in a nearby practice. A family atmosphere with not a single vial of Botox in sight.

What he did have was a giant cryogenics container. He opened it, explaining he would have to freeze the wart away. When he opened the container, I peeked over to look, just in case there might be a head inside. He dipped in a huge Q-tip looking applicator, then applied it to my foot while saying, "This might hurt a bit."

"Nahhhh," I brushed him off, "I've given birth. I can handle a little paaaaaaaaaaaaaaain! OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN THIS HURTS!!!!!!!"

He smiled his kindly older man smile. "Sorry, I have to wait a moment, then re-apply. It will hurt more this time."

I clutched my foot and whimpered, "Ok. But how long is this going to huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurt!!!!!!!"

He removed the Q-Tip of Death from my foot and asked if I wanted any Advil. I whispered, "No. No. I'm good. Just let me sit here a moment and cry."

No one tells you that getting a wart frozen off your body hurts like hell because- when would you work that kind of info into a conversation? No one wants to talk about this stuff because it's embarrassing. Ahh but leave it your internet pal, who at this point, has no shame. It went away the first time I typed my first blog entry.

If you ever have to have a wart frozen off, take Advil before your appointment. Have some handy in the car for the ride home. Ladies, forgo the high heels. Comfy socks and comfy shoes and know it will burn for at least a half hour more.

I'll give you a Wart Watch 2007 update in the coming days. I know you're oh so excited.

Here Kitty Kitty

2007-10-27T17:59:00.001-07:00

My husband was leaving post it notes all over his desk and promptly losing those post it notes all over the floor. The post its were then carried to various parts of the house by the babies.

To remedy the situation, my husband re-built his desk, lining the top with white board. He could now write himself notes all over his desk with dry erase markers.

This sounds like a great idea. And for someone who doesn't have three cats, it IS a great idea. Zappa Cat, in particular. Zappa likes to jump onto the desk and sit his orange furry butt all over Matt's notes. Then Zappa will sprawl out his body and nap on Matt's shopping lists.

Matt: What do you think uy lk means?
Me: What are we low on?
Matt: Milk. Oh buy Milk.

Another member of the family who loves the dry erase board desk is three year old Boo. She will sit at his desk and spend hours drawling Mulan. Yesterday I noticed Boo had written "and" and "the" then drew a picture of a house. It resembled what can be found in her little reader books. Example: This is my (picture of a truck) and my (picture of a doll.)

Boo had written "And the" next to a house with two women floating inside the house and a dark cloud over the house. She told me, "This is me and Mulan and we're ghosts. There's a lightning storm outside and Mulan is protecting me."

"Boo, this is really good! Can you write more words and draw more pictures for me?"

"Mommy, I already did that the other day but Zappa got up here and erased everything."

I will have to pay closer attention to my daughter's dry erase artwork. I really don't want to chase around the cat while yelling, "Come here! I need to read your butt!"

No Soup For You!

2007-10-26T12:19:00.001-07:00

Conversation with the three year old Miss Boo about the song she is singing for the school play.

Boo: (sings) You've heard of chicken soup, and turkey soup, and barley and potato!!

Me: (interrupting) Yuck. I don't like any of those soups.

Boo: (annoyed) Noodle soup with carrots, minestrone and potato.

Me: More yuck! Those soups are gross.

Boo: Mom. I'm singing. You've heard of alphabet soup, and wonton soup and chowder made with clams...

Me: Oh yeah! Clam chowder. Now there's a soup.

Boo: (through gritted teeth) Rice soup with chicken and split pea soup made with ham. I still don't know the name of the boy who is ham.

Me: PEA SOUP? Why don't I just throw up right here. There's nothing worse than pea soup.

Boo: Are there any soups you DO like?

Me: Cheesy beer soup.

Boo: That's all?

Me: Yep. Clam Chowder and Cheesy Beer Soup. Those other soups are gross.

Boo: Mom, get over it.

They Slimed Me

2007-10-25T17:39:00.000-07:00

I once saw this makeover show where the husband was pissy because his stay at home wife who recently had a baby wore sweats and had her hair in a ponytail and in his words, "Didn't look very sexy."

The makeover team swarmed in and dressed the mom head to toe in designer wear. Short and sexy black cocktail dress with heels. Gave her a haircut that would take hours to re-create each morning. The husband was thrilled. Said she never looked better. The host of the show kept asking if she'd keep her look. The mom meekly said that since it made her husband happy, she sure would try.

Girl, please.

I was reminded of that episode yesterday. Yesterday, the second worse day I have had with the babies since coming home from China. The worst day being the first day home from China. Severe jet lag and three freaked out children, fun fun. But yesterday? The babies and I were sick. I had a fever and pounding headache. The babies were literally dripping with snot. I'd move in to wipe a nose oozing with thick green mucus, and one baby would zig while the other would zag- both right into me. No need for Kleenex when Mom's wearing such absorbent clothing. Hence, thinking about that makeover show. There's a reason the stay at home mom uniform involves wash and wear comfortable clothing.

There was no escaping the snot. It was eight hours of having two miserable screaming me-me's attached to me. I couldn't get up and walk to the bathroom without the two of them throwing themselves to the ground and wailing. Or one diving for my leg and coating it with snot and tears. I spent my day on the floor, cradling two unhappy babies, being coated with goo, and wishing I could just crawl into bed and sleep my fever away.

Welcome to motherhood!

Today was better. Today the girls bathed me in cuteness instead of mucus. It's amazing how the two of them act like actual twins. One will be completely lost when the other isn't in the room. When Avie sleeps, Juna will call out for her and start roaming the house. Today the little stinker got away from me and into the nursery while Av was sleeping. Stuck her hand through the crib bars and smacked her sister in the head while shouting, "GONE GONE GONE!"

If they wake up at the same time, I will put Juna in Avalon's crib. They will stand up, hang onto the crib bars, and dance. Avalon thrashes up and down and really throws herself into dancing. Juna bobs up and down, pauses, stomps her foot, pauses again, bobs, repeats. Throw Boo into the mix and Boo will bow her head, flap her arms like a chicken, and shake her bootie. The way my children dance completely sums up their personalities.

The second I whip out the camera, my babies will stop the dancing and become fascinated with the camera. I managed to get this much. It will at least show you a bit of the babies.

I'm shooting the Halloween episode of Word To Your Mutha The Show this weekend. Click that link and it will take you to You Tube where I've had 68 people visit! Hey, that's better than the 8 I had the other day! The Halloween show should be up on Monday. That is, if I don't sneeze and blow the camera out the window. The snot portion of my illness has begun. I should rub my nose all over the babies, see how they like it. Little snot goblins...

Happy Birthday, eat cake

2007-10-24T18:08:00.001-07:00

The Empress of China demands birthday cake.

What the Empress wants, the Empress gets. A cake for Empress, a cake for the rest of us.

The Empress is not impressed. She asks for pyrotechnics. These "thank goodness Customs didn't open our bags" flower candles from China will do. Step one. Light the "candle."

Step Two. Candle bursts into flames! The Empress watches in wide eyed delight. Miss Boo yells, "FIRE! I DON'T LIKE FIRE! FIRE BAD! Grrrr!"

Step three. Flower candle opens its petals to reveal that all candles within are now lit. Happy Birthday begins to play from within the candle.

Step Four. The Empress bloodies her knuckles in desperate attempt to devour cake. Or was the cake red velvet inside? You decide.

The flower candle continued to sing Happy Birthday. Miss Boo continued to be freaked out. "Make it stop, Daddy! Make it stop!" Daddy put the candle outside. Five hours later, the candle was still playing. We should have hidden it in the noisy neighbor's yard.

Not pictured- the birthday lunch at Wei Hong. You locals really need to go there for Dim Sum. Atmosphere, great service, delish food. What's not to love? How about your baby almost choking to death? Thank goodness for the quick moves of the lovely Chinese server. "I had five babies. Babies choke sometimes." The Empress rewarded her with a lap full of goo that was once lodged in her throat. We rewarded the server with a large tip.

Ham-ming it up

2007-10-23T14:39:00.000-07:00

Today was not a good day for this Mutha.

Drama with my mama. I'd go into details, but why bring you down with me?

Instead, check out the dinner conversation with the lovely three year old Miss Boo. Her class is putting on a play about soup? She has learned five songs for this play, each one to do with soup. The main song rattles off about 20 different types of soup. I'm seriously impressed that three year olds can do this, aren't you? I can barely remember where I put Avie.

Each child was assigned a soup. My child's is Alphabet. She informed us tonight that the new kid in class is Ham.

Boo: He's Ham but I don't know his name.
Me: Ham-pton?
Matt: Ham-ilton?
Me: West-Ham?
Matt: Moons Over My Ham-my?
Mae: Birming-Ham?
Matt: Hi, welcome to class. You're Ham.

Boo studied us both for a moment, not phased in the slightest.

Boo: No, I think his name is Pumpkin Head.

One of my lovely readers suggested I increase my hits by putting my internet show on You Tube.

So I did. Let's see if I can get 20 viewers! Dream big, baby!

The Oreo Cookie Cow Is Victorious Over Blogger!

2007-10-22T19:21:00.000-07:00

Problem fixed. Another episode of WTYM- The Show is up on the show blog. Check it out. Please? I'm only getting 8 viewers a day. Maybe you can help me reach 10! Oooh ahhh.

Someone asked how I am doing this with all three kids. There's no way I'd let a hobby get in the way of caring for my children. That's why I create each episode around them. Like yesterday's shoot. Matt, Boo, and I needed dental appointments. Our amazing family dentist agreed to see all of us on the same day AND help me create a show about a child's first dental appointment. He was able to stack our appointments so there was time to interview him and not disturb his work, so that either Matt or myself was always with Miss Boo, and for me to be able to comfort Boo during her first dental exam. THAT is how I do this with three kids. Oh, that and having my mother stay with the babies while we were out. I'm not so far gone that I'd bring the babies to a dental appointment.

Off you go. Be one of the TEN people today to check out the next episode.

TWO shows!- Oops, scratch that...

2007-10-21T18:19:00.000-07:00

This weekend I told three year old Miss Boo that I was exhausted. I needed to wave the white flag. Surrender.

She handed me a diaper and said, "Here, wave this!"

And I did. On the floor of the TV room, staring at the ceiling and waving a Huggies Supreme Care in the air.

I am one tired Mutha.

Me: Matt, I don't stop do I?
Matt: Nope.
Me: Seriously, I never just stop. And do nothing.
Matt: Nope.
Me: I'm always on the go. Why am I always on the go? I'm tired. I want to stop for a moment.
Matt: You won't
Me: I will. I need to. I have to. I have to stop and just- sit. Just sit. Stare at the wall.
Matt: Mmmm hmmm.
Me: Problem is that I'll think of a new show idea and be off and running again.
Matt: Yep.

Two new episodes have been posted on Word To Your Mutha- The Show.

Oops. Blogger is being bitchy. The Grant's Farm show has a still image of that famous Oreo Cookie Cow. Blogger says NO to the Oreo Cookie Cow. The video loads to the cow, then jumps ahead, making the sound not synch up with the other video images. Blogger, why you wanna bring an Oreo Cookie Cow down? No love for the Oreo Cow.

Today I shoot yet another episode. The opportunity presented itself, and I've gotta jump while I can. Don't be thinking that you'll get a new show (or two!) each week. I'm loading up before taking time off in November. Something is forcing me to to take down time. Stupid ovarian cyst that won't go away... grr.... He's inside the ovary, threatening to blow it into tiny ovarian pieces. Time to go, Senor Cystie.

I'm not so nervous about the procedure. I'm more worried about ending up with a roommate at the hospital. It's going to be my first down time in.... oh my. Since before I gave birth to Av? This time last year? Wow. I want to spend my night in the hospital high on painkillers and watching really bad reality TV shows. Which is the only way those things are watchable. I want to get up to go to the bathroom with my boom de yay hanging out of the back of my hospital gown. I don't want to worry about a stupid roommate. There's not enough legal drugs in the world to anesthetize that horror. I only like to share sleeping space with those I am legally obligated to share sleeping space with.

Go watch the new show. In a few days I'll come back and tell you how Junie almost died at her birthday party this weekend. She didn't. She's fine! But it was something I don't want to go through evah again, thankyouverymuch.

Still here? GO! Go watch the shows already, sheesh!

I'm The Mom Next Door

2007-10-19T10:08:00.000-07:00

Today I took All My Children to an area attraction. All three of them. All by myself. For the very first time. To Grant's Farm. Wow, I'm nuts.

Grant's Farm involves boarding a tram, riding along trails dotted with buffalo, cows, and horses (more like dotted with their poop), and then de-boarding the tram to stroll through a mini zoo type area filled with elephants, goats, and monkeys. Oh my.

Oh, the tram. Had one screaming baby in one arm and a baby yelling GONE GONE GONE in the other arm. But we made it. No one fell out only to be eaten by ravenous Oreo Cookie Cows.

Grant's Farm is currently decorated for Halloween. My three year old ran from skeleton to goblin to ghost yelling, "Scaries! Another scary! Look! More scaries! I love being scared!! It's fun being scared!!" Which makes sense, because when she was a baby, she loved nothing more than me catching her off guard by yelling BOO in her face. She'd jump, then laugh herself silly. Try that with the babies and they'd instantly poop their pants before wailing for hours on end.

After successfully navigating the friendly local attraction, and de-boarding the going home tram, I packed both babies into the stroller and boldly headed to the exit. So proud was I. We made it. I made it! All by ourselves/myself!

That's when a woman raced over to me while yelling, "Your baby! She's going to fall out of the stroller!!"

I stopped in my tracks and saw that yes, Juna was indeed hanging by her NECK out of the front of the stroller. She slipped, feet first, and was about to bang into the pavement, only to be run over by her sisters and oblivious mother.

I quickly rescued my dangling baby and realized I hadn't buckled her into the seat of the stroller.

Of course this all happened in front of a mom's group. Other mothers. How we mothers fear being judged my other mothers. Oh, and causing bodily harm to our children. Yeah yeah. But those mothers! How we hate it when things go wrong in front of other mothers.

Hi! I'm a mom who has videos up on her website, providing helpful hints and tips for other moms! Ignore the fact that my baby is bouncing along the blacktop because I forgot to buckle her into her safety restraints. Give that woman a TV show!

To my surprise, the other moms rushed to ease my discomfort and obvious embarrassment. "OH, that's happened to me before, don't worry!" And, "Happened the other day! My baby fell out of his swing because I forgot to buckle him in!" "Happens to all of us, don't worry!"

Even with nearly sending us to Children's today, I'd say our my first outing alone with All My Children was a successful one. A draining one. But a successful one.

On the way home, the three year old asked, "Are you done being married to daddy? I want to marry him. He's a good man."

I explained that she can't marry daddy, because she's his daughter and daughters cannot marry daddies. Her reply? "No, I'm going to marry Daddy. He's the perfect man."

And he is. I am able to take this much needed break because Matt is in the other room, on the floor, letting all three girls use him as a jungle gym. He always dreamed of having women crawling all over him. There you go, honey.

See the Oreo Cookie Cow and other sights from the place we visited today, when the next episode of Word To Your Mutha- The Show- airs on Monday.

The Vacuum Isn't Good Enough

2007-10-18T17:28:00.000-07:00

Matt and I were feeding the babies in one room. 3 year old Boo was watching The Goodnight Show on PBS Kids Sprout in another room.

She came into our room, softly approached her daddy, and whispered, "Daddy. Our vacuum isn't good enough."

"Huh?" Matt asked. "What are you talking about?"

Boo spoke louder. "Daddy, our vacuum isn't good enough. We need a Swivel Sweeper. It gets under the furniture and picks up cat hair."

And with that, Boo ran off to the other room.

Matt turned to me, "No more channels that show commercials. She gets a DVD at night from now on."

I put my baby to bed and wandered into the TV room. I re-wound the programming, courtesy of Tivo. There it was. A Swivel Sweeper mini infomerical, airing between Thomas and Jakers.

"Mommy! It's the Swivel Sweeper commercial! Let's watch it together!" Boo crawled onto the couch next to me. "See! Regular vacuums come unplugged from the wall. The Swivel Sweeper runs on batteries. It doesn't have wheels. It goes under the furniture. See! It picks up cat hair. Look at those kids. They can use the Swivel Sweeper! Can we get a Swivel Sweeper? Please, Mommy, please? I'm going to go ask Daddy."

Boo hopped off the couch to go ask Daddy. She came back into the room looking dejected. "Daddy said no. Hey! Can we watch that it again? I love that Swivel Sweeper commercial!"

I knew Miss Boo would one day be swayed by TV commercials. I had no idea the first experience would be for a battery operated vacuum.

Happy 1st Birthday Juna

2007-10-16T17:00:00.001-07:00

Hello, my little one year old.

Look! Mommy bought you a silly happy birthday hat. May I put in on your head?

Ok, another time, then...

October 17th. Happy June Bug Day.

Oh Junie Bug. What a bittersweet day for your Mommy. While I'm sad that you are becoming a toddler and no longer a baby, I'm also grateful I get to spend this day with you at all!

Today as I watch you toddle about the house, play with your favorite toys, and shout, "GONE GONE GONE," (the only word you use right now) I can't help but think about her. The woman we will both wonder about for the rest of our lives. Your birth mother. As I celebrate your birthday today, I have to wonder, is this day special to her, too? As she goes about her day today, is she taking time to wonder about you? Is she staring into space, trying to picture your face? Does today have meaning to her like it does to me? Or does thinking about you bring too much pain?

I don't know anything about your birth family. I don't know if your birth mom was my age or a teenager. I don't know if she cried when you were born because she knew she could not keep you or if she cried with relief, knowing you'd soon be gone. I'll never know the truth. And I promise you will always know that. I will never lead you to believe anything but what we already know. I'm sorry it's not much. You deserve to know more.

I have to think that your birth mother wanted a better life for you. Your family placed you in place where guaranteed you would be found. I have to hope they knew what would happen next. That you would be found and taken to the orphanage. I have to hold onto the hope they knew you would receive good care until a family adopted you. I have to hope they did this, knowing you would actually be adopted. That you could have a chance at a better life.

You are from a small community in China. I wonder if word got out as to what happened to you. Perhaps your birth mother knows you went to America. Perhaps today she knows you are with a family who cares for you and loves you so very much. Or maybe she has mother's intuition and just knows deep down that you're just fine.

We'll never know. And she may never know. I'm so sorry about that, my baby.

Whatever is the case, I am thinking of her today. I am thinking of the family that gave you life. I will always be so grateful to them for creating such an amazing little human being.

You've only been with us a few months, and I can't even believe that fact. It feels like you've been a part of me since before you were born. Because you have. From the moment I approached Matt with the idea to adopt from China, I loved you. I loved you when you were just paperwork needing to be notarized and pink bubblegum luggage that needed to be packed. Then when I saw those eyes staring up at me from the referral photo, that was it. You were no longer a dream. You were my daughter.

I wish I knew which person in China placed your photo with our paperwork. Who decided you were the daughter for us? How did they get it so right? How did they know you'd be the one to walk past me while playing, then double back because you want to give me a hug? That when I feed you, you stare deeply into my eyes and stroke my face with your little hand? That I can't stop staring at you, so impressed with your beauty, your curiosity, your determination, and your courage. How did they create a match made in heaven?

I love that today is your day. This is the first of many more to come. Happy 1st Birthday to my sweet little Juna. I am so honored that you are my daughter.

Chinese poo

2007-10-14T06:29:00.000-07:00

My three year old had to poop.

Boo: Mommy, sit with me.

Me: Ok. Let me cover my nose with my shirt first.

Boo: Good idea. I stink! (Looks down as she goes.) Mommy! Mommy!

Me: What?

Boo: Look! My poop made a Chinese letter. What Chinese word is that?

Me: Oh Boo. Seriously....

Boo: (Stares into toilet) I think my poop spelled Ni Hao! Hello poop! Hello poop!

Me: Well, say goodbye to the poop because it needs to be flushed now.

Boo: Bye poop! Wow, I'm so proud. My poop speaks Chinese!

Bye Bye Calloween

2007-10-12T07:34:00.000-07:00

Last night, Miss Boo and I played Halloween. It's no longer "Calloween." It's nice when your kids learn to say their words correctly, but it's sad at the same time. You kind of miss it when they say spoon instead of foon. Or eyebrows instead of eyebrooze.

I told Boo the neighbors around here, with their pristine perfect yards and their perfectly decorated living rooms, give out the best candy. Be prepared for rented fog machines on the streets, the spooky flicker of strobe lights, homes turned into haunted mansions, and front yard parties filled with drunken six figure earners. Ahhh but the bad thing about the 40 and up yupster crowd? They make you work for their full size Snickers bars.

I remember the first year we took Boo trick or treating. She was ten months old. One of the neighbors actually asked her to do a trick. Buddy, she's a baby. Ok, fine. Who takes a baby trick or treating in the first place? How about parents who are jonzin for some candy and are too lazy to head to the store? Isn't that why you have kids in the first place? The perks of trick or treating, maaaaan!

I told Boo to practice some knock knock jokes. Here's what she came up with.

Me: Hello, little girl. I'd love to give you some candy, but you need to do a trick for me first. Yikes, this sounds creepy... Um... hey! How about a joke???

Boo: Knock knock.

Me: Who's there?

Boo: Boo!

Me: Boo who?

Boo: What's wrong with you?

Me: Hmm.. we need to work on that one. Ok, let's try again.

Boo: Knock knock

Me: Who's there?

Boo: Kleenex

Me: Kleenex who?

Boo: What, are you sick or something?

Me: Wow. I'm playing straight man to an antagonistic three year old. Let's try again!

Boo: Knock knock

Me: Who's there?

Boo: Candy!

Me: Candy who?

Boo: When are you going to give me some candy????

Me: Maybe we should practice a little song instead.

Watch for a new episode of WTYM-the show on Monday.

Ice cream

2007-10-08T07:37:00.000-07:00

Matt enjoys the ooey goodness that is a Dairy Queen Blizzard. Avie knows something good is in that yellow cup.

DENIED! No ice cream for you!

Avie calls in reinforcements

DENIED! No ice cream for you!

Avie tries one last attempt at the ice cream

Denied once again! No ice cream for the girls in blue!

Since we're made of marshmallow, we gave in and the babies each got a little taste. Then we wisely put the ice cream away until they went to bed.

Conversations with the Mutha Family- Fly Smashers

2007-10-02T19:11:00.000-07:00

Come, sit at the dinner table with my family. Observe last night's dinner conversation.

Me: (singing to Miss Boo) Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest, scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.

Boo: Why?

Me: Huh? Why what?

Boo: Why did he bop them on the head?

Me: I don't know Boo. It's a silly song. (singing the second part of the song) And down came the good fairy and she said, 'Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don't want to see you, scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head!'

Boo: Why? Why did she say that?

Me: (Sighs) Because, Boo. It's not nice to bop field mice on the head.

Boo: Why does Bunny Foo Foo bop mice on the head?

Me: I don't know, Boo! It's just a silly song. Mommy sang it when she was little.

Boo: But why does he bop field mice on the head???

Me: Because Bunny Foo Foo has unresolved anger issues not properly addressed in therapy.

Boo: Oh. Ok.

Me: (To Matt.) I often wonder if she repeats what we tell her at school.

Matt: Scary.

Me: OH, by the way, Mister! Who's been smashing flies against the wall in the back hallway and not cleaning them up?

Matt: Oops, forgot to do that.

Me: Yeah. I came home today to find fly moosh all over the walls.

Matt: Sorry.

Me: I don't want to see fly particles all over the walls. Fly particles are not part of my overall design scheme in this house. (Get up to take Junie's tray to the kitchen to clean)

Matt: (Hands me Av's tray.) Here's take this one, too.

Me: Why should I do you any favors, Fly Smasher?

Matt: Hey, that would be a great band name! The Fly Smashers!

Me: Oh my gawd. I'm leaving home. You people are nuts.

Grocery Shopping With All My Children

2007-09-30T17:26:00.000-07:00

We took All My Children grocery shopping for the very first time.

And look! I'm alive to tell the tale!

I pushed the babies in the double stroller while Matt pushed Boo in the shopping cart.

Yeah, that doesn't attract aaaaaaany attention.

We went to Costco and the Asian market. We attracted the most stares in the Asian market. At one time we had a crowd of people around us, speaking various languages. June Bug held her cool until a woman leaned in and began speaking Mandarin. She flipped out. I haven't seen her that upset in a long time.

I quickly navigated away from the curious crowd to the check out line, just hoping we could make an escape without further attention being drawn to us.

That's when the three year old, while sitting nicely in the front of the shopping cart, began doing the YMCA. Singing it at the top of her lungs and doing the arm movements.

Apparently the YMCA is a universal dance, as people all around us took notice and pointed and laughed.

I was gasping for air, I was laughing so hard while sputtering, "Boo! Who taught you that? Where did you learn the YMCA?"

"In P.E. class. That's gym you know."

I tried to get more details. Does the gym teacher play the song? Does everyone dance? Does the gym teacher dance? She just shrugged and continued singing.

Tonight we were attempting to brush teeth when she started doing something I also thought would come much later. Observe:

Me: Boo, stop wiggling and start brushing your teeth.
Her: Boo, stop wiggling and start brushing your teeth.
Me: Oh, you're copying me now?
Her: Oh, you're copying me now?
Me: Greaaaaat.
Her: Greaaaaat.
Me: (Hands on hips) Boo, knock it off and brush your teeth!
Her: (Hands on hips) Boo, knock it off and brush your teeth!
Me: (Big sigh)
Her: (Big sigh)
Me: (Giving her the Angry Mommy Stare)
Her: (Giving it back and then realizing I wasn't playing) Sorry, Mommy. I thought it was funny!

She then hopped off her step stool and did the YMCA all the way back to her bedroom.

I'll say it again. I'm terrified of the teenage years.

Boots

2007-09-29T20:08:00.001-07:00

Before the PCOS. Before the infertility treatment. Before the pregnancy, the miscarriage, and the last troubled pregnancy. Before staying at home and caring for three children under three, she wore mini skirts.

12 years and umpteen pounds ago, she wore mini skirts with boots. Black knee high lace up boots. Dangerous boots not meant for walking. Boots meant for strutting and dancing and getting in and out of trouble. Seriously sexy boots that did all the talking for her.

The me she is today found a pair of boots online. The sheen of the leather, the height of the heels, the delicate lacing daring to be untied. The boots spoke to her. "Go ahead. I dare you."

The me she is today just sighed, her feet wiggling comfortably within her Disney Mama Crocs "When will I ever get a chance to wear you?"

The me she used to be whispered, "Buy them and see!"

Can a pair of boots change your life?

The me she will always be can't wait to find out.

Conversations with Miss Boo- Chinese

2007-09-28T06:28:00.000-07:00

A dinner conversation with my three year old, the lovely and talented Miss Boo. Sometimes she's a typical three year old and sometimes she's such a teenager it's scary. And yes, she really does talk like that. I'm quoting exactly from our conversation. I'm keeping a notebook on the table at all times just for these situations. I want to remember encounters like this for years to come!

Boo: Mama, is Juna used to us yet?

Me: Hmm.. we're pretty weird, so she'll probably never be used to us. Why do you ask?

Boo: You know her original birth place was China.

Me: (Laughing) Why yes, it was Boo! Remember, Daddy and I went to China to bring her home?

Boo: She was an orphan in an orphanage.

Me: A nice lady found her and brought her to the orphanage.

Boo: No, the POLICE took her to the orphanage!

Me: Actually, you are right. A lady found her and called the police and the police took her to the orphanage.

Boo: Sometimes you don't get your stories straight.

Me: (More laughing) So true. I'm old! Give me a break.

Boo: No, give ME a break. I'm pretty frustrated.

Me: Oh here we go! Why are you frustrated?

Boo: How come we never speak Chinese any more? We used to say Ni Hao all the time and now we never say it anymore.

Me: That's true, we should speak more Chinese, but I don't know much Chinese. I'm sorry Boo.

Boo: I'm really sad you don't teach me any Chinese. Maybe you can work on that.

Me: Ok, Boo. I'll get to work on that right away.

I find it amusing that my three year old is busting my chops because I'm not teaching her Chinese.

This morning I attempted to get Boo ready for school. She kept slamming an imaginary door in my face. She'd make a slamming motion, then say, "I can't hear you! I'm behind this closed door now!"

Never a boring moment with the Boo.

Re-gifted

2007-09-25T12:03:00.000-07:00

I'm thrilled with Boo's new school. And not just because her teachers tell me she's one smart little cookie. Perhaps even, "gifted."

I brought it up this morning to Matt as Boo walked into a wall on her way to the bathroom. "There goes out gifted child, honey."

Matt told me to keep something in mind. We see the dreamy, imaginative Boo. The one who completely lacks any common sense. The one who takes the decorative fans from China and throws them behind her, then falls to her knees and cries, "My duty is to my heart!" Ok, Mulan, we hear you loud and clear. We see that Boo. We don't see the Boo in a classroom setting.

They keep telling us she's smart. And they're the experts. So we'll just keep on keeping on doing what we've been doing for the past three years. Be supportive, encouraging, and pro-learning. The school does have some routes we can take that don't involve moving or spending 12 grand a year for preschool. They said they'd be thrilled to have her again next year, but feel she needs to be in a school that can cater to her super-Boo-tastic smarty smart brain.

Obviously she got her smart genes from her father.

In the meantime, I have to wonder. Yesterday she was picking her nose. I told her to get a tissue and blow her nose instead. She replied, "But if I blow my nose, there won't be any snot left for me to eat later."

That's my gifted girl.

Keep it real, stay fat!

2007-09-22T19:42:00.000-07:00

Here's something I don't like.

I don't like when a "large" lady finally gets on TV, becomes famous, then she suddenly starts shrinking. Sitcom stars. Movie stars. Network TV talk show stars. The arenas where a size 12 is considered morbidly obese. Ever notice that the bigger they become, the smaller they get?

I'm all for healthy. Healthy is good. But come on. I just want one fat lady to get famous and stay fat.

And they don't just lose the weight. They gain the hair. All those hair extensions. And the teeth. The blindingly white veneered Chicklet teeth. The parts get hiked up, sucked out, or Botoxed into submission. Oh, but the true mark that she's gone Hollywood will be the color of her skin. She'll go Tanorexic on us. She'll go so Hollywood that she will no longer resemble the lady who became famous in the first place.

Can I blame them, these former fat actresses? If I had access to money and the people it can buy to do my bidding, could I resist the Hollywood look? Could I just say no to a size 2 body and that Oompa Loompa glow?

I would like to promise you that if I ever became famous, I wouldn't change. But I don't think that's possible. There's a few perks of being rich and famous I wouldn't be able to resist.

Along with my chef and personal trainers, I'd hire someone to slap the chocolate bar right out of my mouth. That would be their only job. I'd pick up a cookie. They'd race over and thwack it across the room.

Or how about my Food Ninjas.. oh yeah... They'd swoop down from the ceiling, Mission Impossible style and swipe the bag of Doritos out of my hand and replace it with a fruit cup.

Speaking of eating too much food... Why is Miss Boo making that face in the friendly neighborhood buffet restaurant? The one we visited this weekend where I forgot to bring bibs for the babies? Good one Mom.
The advertising slogan goes, "Life's messy, clean it up." I doubt they were expecting this kind of a mess. Check out the makeshift bib I made out of a paper napkin that disintegrated under the fun of all you can eat easy to chew goodies. Boo didn't have a taste of anything sweet until her first birthday cake. Check out Juna's mug, smeared with frozen yogurt. The second kid is so lucky. Er, the third.

And so is the third. Er, second. Av is shoveling in mac N cheese faster than we can bring it to the table.
It took all the wipes in my bag to clean up these two. Not to mention cleaning up the table and the floor. I couldn't do that to a server, even with the large tip we always leave when dining out with All My Children. Note how the two are not seated side by side. That was to prevent an all out war over cottage cheese and melon slices. If they were side by side, here's what would happen- Av would steal Juna's food. Juna would smack Av in the head. Av would cry, then take Juna's plate and throw it on the floor. Then Juna would scream. Best to put a safe distance between the two when it's feeding time.
The couple behind us moved to a completely different section of the restaurant. I don't think I can blame them. Usually people get a bit hyped up when they see us coming with our brood. Then they realize our children might be messy in restaurants, but they are quiet. Too busy shoving their faces with food to make noise. Food Ninjas wouldn't stand a chance!

Out on the town with the babies

2007-09-20T12:06:00.001-07:00

I'm so proud of myself. I took the babies out today ALL BY MYSELF!

I woke up this morning with tons of energy and no desire to stay home. So I packed up the kidlets and off we went to the Missouri Botanical Garden. I chose the Garden because it's the easiest outing of all the St. Louis outings for the stroller crowd.

I also chose that location because of the safety of the parking when I was arriving at opening time. I know many moms feel vulnerable in parking lots when taking kids out of the car. Your whole body is pretty much buried in your vehicle as you get the kids out of their seats and you cannot watch what is going on around you. Moms are the perfect targets, so I always try to choose my parking wisely since I have double duty with the car seats. I knew going to the Garden when they opened afforded me the prime near-the -entrance parking spots.

After that, it was just loading up the babies, throwing down the Cheerios, and going for a gorgeous stroll. The Monarch butterflies, my favorite, were everywhere! I'm telling you, I was just in awe of the beauty around me. The dew covered spider webs, the smell of the flowers, the sunshine making the fountains sparkle. Oh it was heaven! It was about a billion degrees and oh so humid. I ran through a few sprinklers just to cool down a few times. But that was ok. It was the Botanical Garden! I know there are some of you reading this who agree with me. It's pretty magical for some of us in St. Louis. Honestly, it's my Happiest Place On Earth.

The babies were awesome. They snacked, they slept, they watched the butterflies. They did not squawk or freak out or demand to be taken out of the stroller. Such a huge change from Narnia. I don't know why I expect them to be like her because they are not her. Narnia hated her stroller and refused to go in the damn thing. I think we had her in there once. $150 bucks for one ride in the stroller. And maybe I was just too inexperienced to work with her to get her to tolerate the stroller. I just gave up and we walked everywhere. So nice to load up TWO babies and just go. So nice to just GO instead of being stuck at home. Honestly, this whole getting out alone with them was just a big accomplishment for me.

I hope this kicks off a whole new lifestyle for the babies and me. I know many moms fear the first outing with a new baby. But two? I just figured it would be double the pain in the ass. It wasn't. What you do for one baby, you just do twice. It is harder and it is more work, but it can be done. I did it! Oh I know this sounds so simple to many of you reading this but truly, this changes everything. I am a stay at home mom who hates being home. The day is just much happier when it can be broken up with an outing.

Anyway, that's my big news of the day. A big hurdle for me. Hopefully the start of all kinds of adventures for us.

More walking

2007-09-20T06:25:00.000-07:00

One more.

Mobile

2007-09-19T19:37:00.000-07:00

Juna took her first steps last night. Of course the camera was nowhere in sight. Today I was prepared. Here's about five seconds of Juna attempting to walk. I posted this particular segment because of Avie. She did not want her sister hogging the spotlight.

Shortly after putting away the camera, Avie began crawling for the first time. Lesson learned- always have the camera standing by at all times!

Posting this video was frustrating and took several hours due to high traffic on Blogger. So another lesson was learned. Post video late at night. Good to know for when I post the first episode of my show. Er, silly little internet hobby.

Hey! We actually shot my on camera stuff a few days ago. And by we I mean my husband and I. I don't want to make it sound like someone would actually hire me to do this. I'm just another kook getting some "airtime" thanks to the internet.

I'm perky on camera. I need to take it down a few notches. And I need to keep my head still. The frame is this ---------- big and I am ALL over the place.

It's turning out pretty entertainment news packagey. Not sure if that was the intended direction, but I guess that's my forte. Or I guess that's about all I can do with a crew of two adults and three children three and under. The first show is about why the Botanical Garden is a great place to take young children. However, there are no shots of moms with their young children. The place was deserted. So it's me, all blah blah blah bring your kids here you'll love it, and then cut to shots of.... empty pathways and not one single kid playing in the children's area. We're going back to get more shots, otherwise, what's the point?

No really, what IS the point? Just what am I trying to prove here? Look, I don't know. It seemed like a fun idea and I had a blast getting in front of the camera again. I'm having the best time over here, people. So I guess if I measure this in happiness, this is SO worth my time.

Until I get the shots I need and then get the darn thing edited, which will take a few weeks, dammit, check out five seconds of cuteness below.

Junie Bug 11 months

2007-09-17T11:22:00.001-07:00

Junie Bug is 11 months old today.

Note that QVC is on the television. Because I'm 36 going on 70.

Toofers! Four to be exact! Top and bottom.

You can't tell by the pics, but Junie is finally getting some hair buds. The Chairman Mao 'do is finally filling out a bit.
The Bug's words are similar to what they were last month:
Mama
All done
All gone
But now she is putting them together. All done, Mama! All gone, Mama!

She is now standing from a sitting position and starting to take small steps. When she stands, she raises her arms in the air and yells, "AHHH!" She is so proud and she wants us to clap for her. Juna loves praise for her accomplishments!

She also stands up and dances. She does the twist. Then she bobs her head, head banger style. That's a lot of movement for a little baby, so she usually tumbles right over.

She's Mama's girl, all the way. Two peas in a pod, we are. Where Avie's eyes light up when Matt walks into a room. Junie adores her mother. I'm still amazed that's me! I'm her mama! I'm the luckiest woman in the world.