george romero was on to something

I lived up to my end of a deal today and took Lucy to…the mall. Yes, the mo-frackin’, dirty ass mall, y’all. I hate the mall. I LOATHE the mall. But my baby girl has been holding in her poops again (she did this during potty training and I will spare you any more talk of it, I promise NOT to be that mom) so I had to bribe her bowels into motion with a trip to the Disney Store. Why can’t the Disney Store be located on its own, in a strip mall or in its own building???? Did I mention I hate the mall?

First, let me just say to the dirty bitch from Texas who totally jacked my parking space, you should be happy my children were in the car because I should have come after you and slapped you in your big hair poof.  So, we park in north Texas and dodged speeding cars on our way into the mall. Why are people constantly in such a mad rush? The Gap has plenty of jeans.  When we get inside, we decide that the recession is either completely over or never happened at all.  How can the economy be that bad when there are 8 million people at the mall on a Saturday afternoon?

I would just like to share a few of the things I witnessed today. First, there was a pair of maybe 15 year-old girls walking toward me with neon skin-tight shirts on that said, “LOOK AT ME!”  As if there was some sort of alternative. One was about 34 pounds soaking wet and the other had clearly been eating all of her friend’s food for the past six years.  Mothers.  Please do your daughters a favor and teach your girls what is appropriate and what is disgusting.  Your daughter can be both heavy and appropriate, this is not a comment on weight. Rather, it is a comment on people who think it’s cute to look like they are hiding a life preserver under their neon shirts.  It’s gross.  I saw a cowboy dressed entirely in KU regalia. No kidding, even a bright blue leather Jayhawk vest.  I witnessed more young children misbehaving than I care to recount – and as many parents ignoring that terrible behavior.   Also? I’m thinking that the US military has it all wrong. Osama Bin Laden is totally hiding in a shopping mall. He HAS to be – where else would he be so safe and blend in so well?

People will buy just about anything. For real. Package up a turd with a bow and you can sell it to some sucker.  Pillows that look like stuffed Zebras, leopard print EVERYTHING, swimwear in JANUARY, some sort of learn a second language CD program, a ride on some sort of bungy jumping swing (would you really trust the mall with your life???). If we spent as much time doing useful, meaningful work as we do spending a shit load of money on crap, the world would be a much better place. This, from the mother who bribed her daughter to take a dump by buying her a stuffed cat. Wait. Nevermind.

gaining perspective...

This week has consisted of: two crazy kiddos, a quiz I stunk up, packing 8 lunches, parent – teacher conferences at preschool, 14 loads of laundry, 8 loads of dishes, three trips to the grocery store (and one to the liquor store), a large slice in my thumb that I continue to knock into everything I get close to, getting barfed on by my youngest darling, one big uneventful trip to the doctor’s office, two trips to the post office, completing my online applications for both the School of Education scholarships and the Teacher Education professional program at UMKC, begging random higher ups for recommendations for said applications, mopping poo off the hardwood floor and scrubbing it off my arm…

My point is that tonight I am taking some much needed time for myself. I’m going to sit on my ass and have a giant glass of wine and watch a movie and think about something positive to share with you. I hope you all have a great Friday night and that you don’t get barfed or pooped on; at least within 24 hours of each other.

this one's for the ladies...

I’ve been really busy since school started again, so it was a big treat to go out last night with two good friends to a wine tasting. Yum! For the past few weeks, after an incident with some girlfriends, I have been thinking about the dynamic of female relationships.  Last night there were 13 people in the wine class and it’s always fun for me to watch and listen to people interact, so I had a nice opportunity to take my pick of interesting people – and only one man in the group.  About midway through the class, the two girls at the end of the table (two of a group of four) started laughing about how one of them had decided to compare each of the seven Argentinean Malbecs we tasted to an ex-boyfriend.  I’m not sure how that works, but at the end of the class, after we had all sampled seven wines and were feeling much less pain, the boyfriend girl starts talking about herself.  Seriously.  Like, her entire life history. As if we asked.

She then told everyone the name of her blog and that is the point when we snuck out. Thank goodness the class was inside a lovely little wine shop and my girlfriends and I excused ourselves to go browse the great selection – I could not bear another moment of the self-absorbed droning.   Why is it that when women get into groups, there is usually an alpha who dominates conversations and overshadows the group?  Why do women fall into these weird friendship dynamics?  And more importantly, why am I so bothered by this subject??? After the wine tasting, we grabbed dinner and over more wine I asked my girlfriends why they thought women were so strange.  I told them that I thought there could NEVER be a group of friends like the Sex and the City girls – someone would have feelings hurt or would constantly be ganged up on. Someone would finally tell Samantha what a whore she is, she’d get her feelings hurt and that would be the end of that group. In pairs, women are fabulous. In groups, we can be poisonous.

Women often bite our tongues when we shouldn’t. We are often made to feel like our accomplishments and feats should be shared, but not too loudly.  We do a lot of backhanded complimenting.  We often say things we don’t mean and more often than not, we don’t say the things we should.  I was a student of my own mother’s shoddy examples – and as a mother of two girls, I often worry what kind of example I am setting for them.  I have amazing girlfriends. Women I would jump in front of a moving vehicle for, but I’ve recently found myself unable say simple things to some of them. Things like, “I’m sorry”, or “I should be around more often for you”, or even, “please, please quit talking about this subject before I take my fork and poke my eyes out”.  Instead, I listen and nod and offer what I believe to be kind words of support and encouragement.   I don’t know what this says about female relationships in general, but it says to me personally that I’ve been too busy or lazy to work very hard at mine.

My point in all of this is that women teach our daughters certain unspoken rules of womanhood and of female friendship.  It starts early…as in, I see it in my preschool class.  Girls are the first to pick a leader but are also the first to throw that leader under the bus when she says or does the wrong thing. It’s a wonder we ever make lasting friendships at all.  I thought about all of this while the boyfriend blogger was busy telling us her most recent addresses in 3 states and 2 countries; while her friends sat and nodded and sometimes threw in a tidbit of information to the story.  It was clear who the leader of their group was, and also clear that this was nothing new for them.  Think about this next time you are in a group of friends, or you see a group of women out in public.  Watch what happens, it will fascinate you and might even disgust you.  

This morning, as I was rehashing last night’s events with one of my girlfriends, she pointed out that despite the female dynamic, a person's success is often 10% ambition and 90% balls.  This blogger boyfriend girl had some giant balls and it’s probably what irritated and yet intrigued me about her, and it’s also probably why her stupid boyfriend blog is going to go viral and I’ll just be here blogging in my dirty sweatpants on Saturday nights.   

a short letter to the creator of nightmares...

Dear Jim Henson,

Please stop torturing my children.  I know you must be working very hard to do this from beyond the grave, but still.  How could it possibly be that two girls are so completely terrified of the Muppets?  The Muppets – the same ones that were the star of Saturday nights when I was a child, the same ones who sang “The Rainbow Connection” and “Movin’ Right Along” and who took Manhattan have now become the bane of my existence. Apparently, these felt creatures come to my youngest child at night and scare her into my bed, sometimes more than once a week, and quite frankly, I’m tired of this madness.

When Lucy was about two years old, she was completely terrified of something she called a “Babump”.  We searched and questioned and really became quite concerned about her obsession with “Babumps” – they were big and furry and had large teeth – but that is all we knew about them. This went on for a very long time; she would wake up at night talking about them, she was afraid to sleep alone because they might get her.  It wasn’t until about a year ago, three years after it began, that we found out the “Babumps” were part of a skit on the Muppet show. They sang with Miss Piggy, “babump babump babump cha cha…”  Yes. A Babump is a singing Muppet with sharp teeth.  Who knew???

Recently, Zoe has been asking me to carry her up the stairs. “I’m too scared” she says.  When I ask her what she’s afraid of she tells me “from those singing Muppets.” The newest part of the madness is that every single night before bedtime? I shut the door for Beeker.  Beeker…the poor guy who “meeps” instead of talking, who gets burned, slapped and shaken up…has completely scared the pants off of Zoe.  “Shutting the door to Beeker” means closing my bedroom door, because Beeker apparently lives in my room. We also have to shut closet doors and put a gate in front of Zoe’s door so Beeker can’t get in.  I know that this is the beginning of what I hope will be my kids’ wicked imaginations, but honestly, I am done with it.  The show that Steve and I both adored as children is now keeping our daughters awake at night.

Mr. Henson, you were an amazing genius.  What you did for puppetry and children’s television was revolutionary, and the Muppet Workshop continues to be inspirational for both children and adults. In fact, this all started because you are still revolutionary. I think you are brilliant, so please don’t take it personally when I tell you to please, please go away and leave my sweet girls to their peaceful sleep…we are exhausted.

Beeker’s Keepers,

Kate and Steve

big daddy kane was wrong - pimpin' IS easy

You guys!!! Why?? Why has no one told me about delicious.com??? I'm officially the new delicious pimp. Here is why you need to check it out: it's a site that lets you save all your bookmarks (it will even import what you have and organize by date or subject) and then you can log in from any computer and access them. Pretty much that's the gist of it - but you can totally learn all the good details right here.  I love that you can tag stuff and organize it and even share it with a network of people you choose.  It's SO cool.

And, that is what I learned at school today. I'm paying an ass ton of money so I can learn y'all all kinds of high-tech, fancy pants stuff. You're welcome!

going (not so) confidently in the direction of my dreams

Tonight I am feeling like I used to on the last night of summer vacation.  Tomorrow, school starts for me again and I am dreading it – so this is my way of convincing myself to feel otherwise.  I am about three semesters away from having my certification to teach English at the high school level.  I’ve always wanted to teach, in some fashion, and while I adore my job as a preschool teacher, I sort of fell into it and never thought it would be my final teaching destination.  My heart belongs to English literature geek-dom and, while I am super excited to begin the actual teaching, the getting there is making me crazy. I love the classes, once I’m there, but each time I walk or drive on to campus I think about why exactly I’m there.  I’m almost 35 years old. I already did the college thing – back when I was young and could stay up til all hours drinking studying and still drag myself to an 8am class just to do it all over again.  I read the books, wrote the papers and got the degree. So, why, then, did this seem to be such a good idea?

Some days I feel sorry for myself that my friends are getting off of work at the same time that I am heading out to school. Their weekends are full of relaxation and family time and reading books that they’ve picked from the library – not sitting at the computer or reading books that someone else has put on a syllabus. I get frustrated that I can no longer watch television at night – or at all for that matter. Not that there is that much on TV that particularly interests me, but the point is that I don’t have the time to watch anything for an entire season – even if I record the shows.  But mostly, I wonder how much my children will remember of me being gone or busy during this time in their lives. I hope that someday they will understand that what I am doing is partly for me, but is mostly for them.  Some day I will have summers off so that we can spend time together and travel; and I hope that they realize that what I sometimes feel is a selfish move on my part will allow us to have two incomes and more freedom to do those things.

I hope that one day my girls will look back and say that they think what I did was pretty great.  And, as much as I envy people who don’t have papers to write or books they have to read, I also sort of feel like I have something they don’t.  I like that even though I’m older than most of them, I have met people I never would have met otherwise and have made connections with people I’ve grown to really admire and respect.  I’ve also realized what my brain was missing – I love a challenge and have enjoyed what I get out of discussions and lectures.  I started back to school out of frustration – I really, really just wanted something that was mine…and soon, if I don’t let nights like this drag me down, that something will be my own classroom – watch out, kids! See? Mission accomplished, I really do feel like I’m ready to go back and tackle this semester head on.  First, the campus bookstore gets to tackle my checkbook – but that is a sore subject for another time.

out of print?

If you know anything about me, you know how much I love books. Old ones, new ones, kids ones, poetry ones, you name it.  Recently, the e-book phenomenon has been getting plenty of attention – even a spot on CBS Sunday Morning this morning – and so, I thought I would give my two cents on the subject. I am trying. I am trying really hard to understand the need and use for electronic books. I KNOW we live in a world where everything is electronic and accessible and at the tips of our fingers. But, there is something about the publishing industry that has always seemed to me like the epitome of what we stand for – it allows voices to be heard – stories that might otherwise go unnoticed or unseen.  When the printing press was invented more than 500 years ago, it gave way for language and stories to be shared in a way that, until then, had never been possible before. And for the past 500 years…that was enough.  Until now…

I love the idea of being published – that someone would read my writing and think it was worthy of a larger audience than my husband and the dog – who mostly try to stay awake when I read my stuff to them.  I know that even with e-books there are still stories being published, but for me, part of the joy of reading at all is the feeling of a book in my hands, the smell of book binding, and the thought that I am supporting someone else’s creativity.  I understand that the switch to e-books really is only changing the form of the book in question, but what worries me is the inevitable change in how books are sold.  What is to stop all of the mom and pop bookshops from closing their doors in the wake of this phenomenon? How could they possibly compete with downloadable, cheaper versions of these same books that currently fill their shelves?  If I were to ever win the lottery (first I would have to PLAY the lottery, but that's not my point…) I have always wanted to open a little bookstore. There is no place that feels more cozy and comfortable than a small, individually owned bookstore – not a huge three-story megamall Barnes and Noble.  What makes me sad is that these places might soon go by the wayside if the Kindle or the Nook has anything to say about it. 

I guess in a lot of ways this makes me old fashioned. I love my laptop, I couldn’t live without my cell phone or digital cable and all the other technological advances that we didn’t have when I was a kid, but doing away with real, tangible books is something I am just not willing to do. A few months ago I had to take a guided tour of the Miller Nichols library on the campus of UMKC and during the tour, the librarian told us that the new multimillion dollar addition would include the technology to request a book at a kiosk and that book would be “fetched” so to speak, by this new system, and handed to you at the circulation desk.  Huh??? What it means, basically, is that you would never have to actually go rummage around the shelves for books because there is now a computerized robot to do it for you.  Amazing.  And sad. I worry that all of these so called advances will mean my children will never get the joy of searching the shelves of their favorite library or bookstore for that perfect book. Or the surprise of looking for one particular book and instead finding three others they like even more just because they happened to be on the same shelf.  I get upset when I think that they might never know the feeling I get when I open Huckleberry Finn  or To Kill a Mockingbird for the 257^th time and look at the folded corners of the pages, or see places where I’ve underlined favorite passages or written in the margins. 

The bookshelves in my home are full of books that are meaningful to me in some way or another. Sure, I have my share of old textbooks and poetry collections, but I also have books that belonged to family and friends who are no longer with me – these are the things I plan to pass to my own girls, just as I hope I can pass my love for reading those books. They are concrete, real evidence of how much their family relied on stories and books for more than just entertainment, and that is something an e-book will never be able to give them.

mother of the year...?

I was watching a “momversation” on a blog I read, which is a little video of several mothers talking about one subject, ranging from childbirth to discipline to schools, etc.  This particular one was all about these mothers' worst parenting moments. It included several women telling stories about all the things that they might have done that were so terrible to their children.  I got to the middle of the second story (which was about how the mom gave the child her set of keys while strapping her in the car seat, and then while she walked around the car to get in, the child locked the car door) and I started tuning out. Seriously. First of all, why would you give your 18-month-old child your only set of keys and then shut the door? And secondly, that’s IT? THAT is the terrible parenting moment? One other mother told a story about how her child had been pressing her buttons all day long and at bath time, she had to call her husband to come help because she might do harm to the child. Uh. I turned it off at this point, because it occurred to me that something might be wrong with me. Why didn’t either of these stories seem all that terrible to me? I kept waiting for the mom to say that she gave her kids Benadryl so that everyone would go to sleep at a decent hour, or that she has bribed them with everything from a new pet to a Disneyworld vacation. Not that I would…er…consider doing either of this things. Moving right along…

I feel like we are a generation of parents who are raising a new generation of whiney brats. Really. We do EVERYTHING for our children and then we are shocked when they can’t figure out how to act like human beings. We never say NO to our kids and then wonder why they are little assholes.  Maybe this “momversation” struck me as so insane because I can think of a plethora of things I’ve done to my kids that some might consider terrible parenting moments – and not one of them had to do with keys or the possibility of losing my temper.  Honestly, I had never even considered them to be parenting shortcomings on my behalf until I had some overly happy, perfectly coifed mother point it out to me.  My kids are safe and loved.  I would never, ever do physical harm to them, but I have certainly lost my temper, and while I’m not proud of it, I think it’s important for our children to know that we are human.  Human beings have emotions, we lose our cool – and sometimes our kids need to know when they’ve upset us.  I don’t have much of an internal editor, so sometimes I say things that I wish I could take back…and the lesson I feel like my kids (and I) learn from this is that we sit down and talk about why I might have freaked out, or why getting angry is sometimes a very healthy, good thing.

I’m not proposing we all lose our shit in front of our kids, and I also know that in a perfect world, I wouldn’t even be writing about this, but I was struck by my own reaction to what I heard these other mothers saying.  I worry about moms these days. I worry that we have to talk about our shortcomings like they’re harming our children or something to be sorry about; and we constantly feel like we should make excuses for being emotional or saying something we wish we hadn’t.  Sheesh. If I had a dime for everything I have said in the past that I wish I had thought about more – I would probably be so wealthy that I would have already hired a lovely nanny to raise my children and I wouldn’t be thinking about this stuff at all. I wonder, what are some of your “worst parenting” moments?

two all beef patties

People. Again, I feel it is my place to point out some jive turkey ridiculousness. Someone out there needs to tell me what the hell McDonald's is putting in their nuggets to make people act like THIS when they run out of them. This time in happened right here in KC and the local news is all, "hey! if you see this woman, call the TIPS hotline." Uhhhh. If I were to run into this lady I would run the hell away from her with lightening speed. Are you kidding me?? This chic is not messing around. Does it make you wonder what happened to her that morning? Does it make you wonder what happened to her in her entire LIFE to make her think this was a good decision? This is the reason I'm so torn about watching local news - on one hand, it's so, so, so, depressing and frustrating. On the other hand? Miss it, and you miss some pretty impressive stuff - see? You're welcome!

just another way I might be screwing up my kids

The Power of Birth Order

I’ve spent a lot of time with my two girls since school has been out for the holidays. A LOT of time.  And I’ve thought a lot as I’ve watched them play (together, finally!) about birth order and how we as parents shape our children and their personalities.  I’ve always been really sensitive about labeling my girls – even though it would be so easy to do. Lucy is the artist, she’s sensitive and thoughtful and creative and imaginative and has a wonderful sense of humor. She’s funnier at four years old than most people are in a lifetime. Zoe is a sparkler, she is energetic and creative and affectionate and has more personality at two than most people do in a lifetime.  I had a conversation over the holidays with a dear friend, also the youngest in a family of two girls, and we were talking about all the things that go along with birth order – how so many people think it shapes who we are, even the jobs we have and the friends and partners we choose.  She and I had talked in the past about our experiences growing up in our respective families but I had never really though how my being the youngest in my family shaped who I have become. She had recently come across the article I linked above and was describing for me what research says about birth order and personality – read it if you get a chance, I think it has some really interesting information on the subject.

When you have your first child, the experience is overwhelming.  It is something that mere words can’t easily describe. For me, the combination of it all: pregnancy and childbirth and having a new person who was entirely dependent on me, was the most amazing thing ever.  If I think hard enough about it, it’s probably the scariest time in my life, too – hello? They send you home from the hospital with another human being – a tiny, little bitty person – and NO instruction manual. I think about going through that with Lucy and I must have seemed nearly insane to my friends.  I’m sure they were like, “Uhhh. Ok, weirdo. It’s a baby…” But it was more than just that, it was experiencing all the firsts.  And I was so enamored with her that I was all, “Hey! Let’s do that again!” And then, when I was about six months pregnant and the reality hit me that I was going to have two children under the age of TWO, I flipped the hell out.  I was terrified. TERRIFED – that I would never have the room in my heart to love another child as much as I loved Lucy.  I worried and worried that we were doing the wrong thing, and because my pregnancy with Zoe happened so quickly, Lucy wouldn’t get enough one on one time with us and we’d scar her in some way.  (Little did we know that one day she would never remember life before her little sister came along…) And then I had Zoe and I’m going to be honest, I didn’t bond with her instantly like I did with Lucy. I think I had worried myself SO much that I didn’t allow myself to fully let go of those feelings for a few weeks.  But when I did…when I let go, I knew it would all be fine.  And I was so happy I cried – happy because I wasn’t nuts and there really was room in my heart for two beautiful girls.

As it turns out, it’s very true that you can love two children equally and differently all at the same time.  But how will the order of their birth have any affect on my girls’ future? Will Lucy fit the description of the first-born, the way I feel like my older sister does? Lisen is smart, cautious with her feelings and her finances, hard working and reliable, to name only a few of her qualities.  Will Zoe fit the description of the younger sibling (much like I do) and be a risk taker, sensitive and attention seeking? Hmmm. I think anyone, regardless of birth order, can have these characteristics – I consider myself to be both hard working and reliable, but those are probably not the first words you would use to describe me. And if my children do fall into these “categories” what did Steve and I do to help put them there? Do we as parents shape who our children are because we’re a society that finds the need to make everyone fit into some tidy little box? 

I had to laugh at the part in the article that talked about how the first born typically has more photos in the albums – something I have been hypersensitive about with our girls.  One afternoon when I was maybe 14, I found a cellophane wrapped book in our home and asked my mom what it was. Turns out it was my baby book – the baby book that she bought and then never opened. Yup. There are pictures of me as a baby, but I have no written record of when I took my first steps or said my first words – and those are the minute details that parents forget about over the years and years of more “firsts”.  I don’t hold any anger about that incident now, but I do remember at the time feeling like it was unfair and I vowed right there that I would make sure all my children had baby books!  And, because my father is probably going to read this, I would like to state for the record that by her second birthday I had finally put together somewhat of a presentable baby book for Zoe.  No one tells you before you have a second kid that you will somehow lose 16 of each 24 hours in the day doing God knows what. I’m going to chalk my baby book experience up to tired parents and not because I’m not the first born. 

I guess my point is that you all give your children different experiences because of who you are as a family and the dynamic you share together.  I never felt like I was loved any less because I was the youngest in my family – even though I may have been treated or handled differently than my older sister. I imagine most of that could be chalked up to my being a risk taking, attention seeker! I hope that when my girls are grown, they will be able to look back and say that their father and I did the best we could; and that while we might share different experiences with each of them individually, we almost never thought of trading them in for beachfront property. Almost never.

a-hole ink

Oh, people. Where do I even begin with this story?? Yesterday, I caught the tail end of a news story that shocked me. I was upstairs putting laundry away when I walked in and saw it, and because I was upstairs, I couldn’t rewind what I saw, so I spent the better part of a day trying to figure out if this story was for real. You guys. These people tattooed their five kids. Children – ages seven to seventeen – and they did it with a guitar string Magyvered into a little motor deal. Wait. What? If I’m doing the math right, these two booger eaters were smart enough to figure out how to connect a guitar string through a motor and use it to physically alter their children’s skin, but they never stopped to think that they might be doing something wrong? Seriously. What is wrong with people?

And this, THIS is why I completely believe in Darwinism. It’s called thinning the herd, y’all. When asked about the tattoos, the mother (who, if I did the math right on this, is only about 12 years older than her eldest child) says, “I don't understand why this got blowed up so big. I love my children. We'd never do anything to harm our kids.” I would like to go on about this, but I am struck nearly speechless by the absurdity of this story. And so, you should just watch for yourself. I will also remind you that I’m a girl who has five tattoos. Five. I’m certainly not opposed to them, I’m only opposed to morons who think it’s fine to make these types of decisions for their children.

the next food network star (is in my head...)

It’s started again.  I had been so proud of myself…until today. And one conversation starts me headed back down a road of ridiculous neuroses.  Let me rewind a bit and give you some background on what I’m talking about. I was throwing together a pot of chili tonight (I make a damn good one…dinner is at 6) and I had the Food Network on in the kitchen to drown out the sound of screaming little girls.  And I started thinking about what a funny world we live in. On one hand, we have a network dedicated entirely to food and cooking and delicious yumminess. And on the other hand, we live in a nation where we are constantly being told that we’re fat.  It’s a constant juxtaposition, and today I fell victim to the little voice inside my head.  The one I had kept at bay for several months, at least. 

It started with a harmless conversation with a friend about how she’s going to lose her baby weight. She’s started tracking calories and was telling me how hungry she is, and how excited she was this morning when she woke up and a new calorie day had begun!  And…that’s where it started.  The voice starts in on me (she’s a bitch – she sounds a little like me only she’s hungry) saying, “you’d better not eat that”, “you have put on six pounds since summer, do you really need that cookie?”, “if X is tracking calories and already back in her old jeans, don’t you think it’d be a good idea for YOU to watch what goes in your mouth once in a while?”, “Zoe is almost three – it’s no longer baby weight”…and ON and ON and…Mother of God – SHUT HER UP already!!

Here’s the deal. I never had to watch what I ate - really.  I mean, I’ve always been active and up until I was in my early twenties, I danced 3-5 days a week, which I loved, and working out isn’t a chore when you love what you’re doing.  It was never hard for me to keep weight off until I hit my late twenties.  And then I had babies, and…well.  I wish I could say that I was like so many of the celebrity moms you see who are back into their own clothes within a week and look better with each kid they pop out.  Not so.  I was back in my clothes quickly enough, but my body looked, at best, like someone had chewed it up, blown it into a bubble, popped the bubble and stuck it in my old jeans. And ever since, that voice has crept out whenever those jeans get the slightest bit snug.  What’s peculiar, is that in the past few months I’ve been thrilled that I hadn’t heard that voice. At all. I think I’ve been so busy with more important things that she took a vacation and left me alone.  Thing is, I was so proud of that that I started telling people I was done worrying about it.  My body just is what it is until I find extra hours in the day and that really, I’m fairly happy with the way I look.  I believed that. I did and I kind of still do…right?

So, why did she come back so quickly? How could she have slipped back in during that one silly moment? And better yet, why am I listening? I want my two girls to know it doesn’t matter what they look like as long as they’re healthy.  I don’t want them to hear me berate myself – even Steve gave me the raised eyebrow when he heard me talking about my weight for the first time in ages. “I thought you were over that,” he said.  Is anyone ever really over body image? I mean, really, even skinny girls? Kathy Griffin said in the stand up act I watched last night that she was hungry all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. And the skinnier she gets, the bitchier she gets. Who wants that? Why should we be constantly miserable? Because every magazine on the newsstand tells us so? Or because most female celebrities weigh well under what is natural or even attainable for normal women? Because size 8 is now considered “plus size”?? What the hell are we doing to our little girls, our future young women? How much is too much? 

Eeeek. I’m sorry. Clearly it’s disturbing to me, and part of why I was so thrilled with ignoring that voice is that I thought I had finally stopped buying into what I should look like, what I should weigh.  Here’s the thing: I have a not so secret crush on Paula Deen. And to be honest, her food disgusts me – who can use that much butter? It’s gross. What I love about her isn’t the food, it’s that she makes no excuses for who she is and what she looks like – she loves food. LOVES it, and isn’t afraid to eat and show that food can be used for entertainment, for nourishment, for bringing people and families together.  I’ve decided that the next time I hear that voice in my head, I’m going to channel Paula and hope she kicks her ass. Or at least slathers her with some butter and gobbles her up.

because maybe some of you got to go OUT last night

Some thoughts on last night’s televised New Year’s Eve festivities:

·      I’m just going to put this out there – I’m pretty sure that CNN was doing it’s best to out Anderson Cooper. Let’s review: Kathy Griffin gave him EVERY opportunity to admit he loves the boys, commenting on his name, his hair, his outfit – “Andy” had to do everything in his power to keep Griffin or the conversation on track as the night went on, and even then it was sort of like a train wreck you can't look away from. I did love the combination of the two of them, though - she's like a loose screw and he's so darn cute. Then, CNN sent the live feed to Key West where he had to interview a drag queen aptly named Sushi, who kept professing her love for Kathy and Anderson LOUDLY over a microphone she apparently thought was feeding to CNN, but was echoing over a club teeming with pretty boys in their undies – yes, please!

·      Jennifer Lopez and her sparkly catsuit. Need I say more? What the fuck was that unfortunate get up she was sporting?  Was she drunk? I mean, she should have just been nude. It was gross. And did anyone catch her stylist trying to fix that hair of hers? Um. Dude. You’re on TV.

·      Is Ryan Seacrest as big a douche as he seems to be? For real, that dude was such an ass to his co-host/correspondent – the Bachelorette chic.  I don’t watch that show, but if I was her and he’d have brought up the on-air breakup one more time, I sure as shit would have punched him in his neck.

·      I’m also going to say something terrible about Dick Clark.  Er…maybe a few terrible things.  First: every person I talked to today thought he had died earlier this year. So, I guess last night did something to help his reputation? I know he had a stroke. I get it. What I want to know is, who is the jackass on ABC who thinks it’s a great idea to drag him out every year? It was depressing and sad – so, if that was the point? Bravo! Also? He was pretty clear and understandable when the camera was on him, but when they’d cut away to the noisy crowd, Steve and I would just look at each other and shrug. I’m probably going to hell for saying all that, but whatever. I did it so you didn’t have to – you’re welcome.

·      And finally, after we were all assured that Dick Clark is indeed alive, ABC flipped to a pre-recorded NYE celebration with the Black Eyed Peas – and sadly, Fergie was unable to perform, but she got Carrot Top to fill in for her. For real, look:

Happy New Year, kids!

toot sweet!

(because I got a little deep and thoughtful last night... I didn't want you to think I had suddenly grown up or something...happy new year, internets!)   
 

Teacher asks Little Johnny to use the word 'definitely' in a sentence
Little Johnny replies, "Teacher, do farts have lumps in them?"
The Teacher says, "Of course not Johnny,"
To which Johnny replies, "Then I have definitely shit my pants..."

A guy sits in front of TV all day, farting like there's no tomorrow.
But not just regular farts, I'm talking the kind that would make your dog puke.
The wife, understandably is angry, and says: "one day honey, you are going to fart your guts out."
The next Sunday, as his wife is preparing turkey for Sunday lunch, the husband falls asleep.
The wife spies an opportunity, so she takes the innards of the turkey and places them in the underwear her husband is wearing. She then goes back to cooking the turkey. Later that night, her husband came to the dinner table looking very frightened.
"What happened?" asked his wife.
"Well," the man said, "you were right. I farted my guts out."
"What did you do?" asked his wife.
"Well with the Grace of God and these two fingers I got 'em all back up in there!"

What is Green and Smelly? - The Hulk's farts...

A man and his wife have gone to bed. After laying in bed for a few minutes the man lets rip a fart.
The wife rolls over and growls, "What in God's name was that?"
The husband says, "TOUCHDOWN, I'm ahead, 7 to nothing!!!"
A few minutes later the wife lets out a scorcher.
Husband says, "Crikey, what was that?"
She replies "Touchdown, tie score."
The man lies there for about 10 minutes trying to work one up. He tries so hard he craps in bed.
The wife asks, "Now what in the world was that?"
He replies, "Halftime, switch sides."

 and my personal favorite:

Confucius say, Man who fart in church must sit in his own pew.