Flying

I love this picture. I just snapped it with my cell phone this evening. What a beautiful day. Mid 70's. Sunny. It felt like summer. We went to the playground after work and it was packed. Apparently everyone had the same idea we did. We attempted to share the equipment with the hoards of other kids and parents, but quickly found that playing tag in the grass was way more fun. Of course I'm not a fierce competitor these days given my propensity for waddling, but I can still keep up with a 2.5 year old.

There was a lot of running, tickling, laughing and eventually "flying." There is nothing that the boys like more than being tossed up in the air by their daddy.

Oh to be two-and-a-half. To be given to the sky by the strong arms of my father and trust that I would come down safe and sound. To believe that every day will be running barefoot through the grass with the ones who love me best.

It's good to be two. I only wish that my baby could stay there just a little bit longer.

Abercrombie & Fitch cares.... about pedophiles

Merry Christmas pedophiles!

That's right, December 25th came early for you this year. Abercrombie & Fitch is giving you a special gift!

Realizing that this segment of the population must feel alienated and misunderstood the fashion company has acknowledged the needs of perverts everywhere. The company is now marketing a padded, push-up bikini top for eight year olds!

Wow! But this isn't the first time Abercrombie & Fitch has created a product specifically for pedophiles. Remember the thong made for the elementary school crowd?

What's next? Fish-net stockings in size 4T? A leather halter top for school photos? Throw out some suggestions child pornographers, Abercrombie & Fitch appears to be all ears....

Life goes on

I read an article in today's New York Times. (Don't look so shocked, occasionally I put down People magazine in favor of something more intellectually stimulating.) The article discussed post-tsunami Japan and the atmosphere of self-restraint rapidly spreading across a country in mourning. Not only are companies and individuals taking great strides to conserve electricity, but the country is also adopting a culture which encourages the shunning of anything considered luxury or celebratory. Sushi and karaoke bars have shut their doors. Graduations, celebrations and cherry blossom tours have been canceled. It is a somber place. Of course it is. The country and our world has witnessed unthinkable, uncontrollable tragedy. So many lives lost. Communities gone. The grave threat of radiation and nuclear meltdown lingers.

And it could happen again. It will happen again. It has happened before.

I think back to the tragedy which occurred in our own country on September 11th, 2001. We walked around in a daze those first weeks after the attacks. We were shocked and terrified. So many people killed needlessly, so much uncertainty about what our future held. Of course I was far away from the twin towers, it would have been a much different experience had I been in New York rather than Minneapolis. Yet still, we didn't know how to respond. Our lives went on. We got up and went to work the very next day, distracted and sad, but off we went, going through the motions. I had dinner plans with friends a few days later. We decided to go through with them. I'll never forget that evening. We walked through Uptown, clutching candles that kept blowing out in the wind. An email had circulated informing us that candle lighting would be appropriate. So we made our way to the restaurant fussing over our silly candles. The eatery was half empty, unusual for a Friday night. I felt guilty for being there at first. As the evening went on our conversation of course focused around nothing but 9/11. We talked to other diners. We talked to our waitress, who told us how her brother was forced to cancel his wedding which had been scheduled for the weekend. We shared in a way that we normally would not have shared with strangers. I felt comfort in sharing that moment with my friends. I'm glad that I didn't stay home.

Babies were born on September 11th. Can you imagine that? In the midst of all the tragedy some mother was giving birth. Experiencing one of life's greatest gifts on a day so tragic. Life went on.

Life goes on.

I mean no disrespect. People need to mourn and grieve in their own way. We need to show compassion and love for one another. Perhaps during these initial post tsunami weeks, a birthday party or a graduation celebration feels inappropriate. But I believe that we need to continue to see the beauty in our world and in our lives. We cannot stop natural disasters and we will never fully be able to control the actions of terrorists, but I also do not want to live this life in a state of constant fear, without joy.

So for the people in Japan who can, I hope they will go see the cherry blossoms blooming, and celebrate the birth of their new babies.

We have no other choice.

Cheater

I cheated. Betrayed trust. Broke unspoken promises. I didn't plan on this happening, it just did. One of my best friends made the introduction and in fact, this is someone who she has been seeing for years. I can't turn back now. I left our first encounter feeling inspired and beautiful. This person has fresh ideas, a new perspective and quite frankly..... she does good hair. That's right I found a new stylist, and will thus be leaving the woman who has been cutting my hair for the past year. I do feel guilty. It's a bit like breaking up. But a girl has gotta do what a girl has gotta do. I spent Saturday with one of closest friends, Erica. We met for brunch and then she took me to her stylist, a woman who she has been doing her hair for years. Erica raves about her, but I didn't put much stock into her evaluation since she happens to have some of the most beautiful hair of anyone I know. It would be pretty hard to mess it up. But I gave her a shot, and decided to kiss the bangs buh-bye. I'm quite pleased with the result. I have been converted. I have a new stylist, one who is closer to my Oakland home, is talented and best of all.....serves wine with a cut. How could I resist?

Body After Baby. BOOO!

I admit it. I read trashy celebrity magazines. In my defense, I do have standards. I don't sink as low as Star. Instead I prefer the higher caliber People and Us Weekly. I know it's bad for me. I know that I should be spending reading time perusing the New York Times. Call it a guilty pleasure.

I had my fill today. I was stuck at the doctor's office for hours. First I had to wait for my scheduled OB appointment. I don't know why they bother with a scheduling system. The office is usually off by at least forty-five minutes. After my routine appointment I had to head to the lab for the standard glucose blood test done at the beginning of the third trimester. For those of you who are blissfully unaware of what this test entails, I will fill you in. First the patient must fast for at least six hours. Then she is forced to consume (in five minutes or less) a large and repulsive glucose drink. It's thick, overly sweet and very gag-worthy. After consuming the dreaded beverage one must then wait an hour for a blood draw. The purpose is to screen for gestational diabetes. Good times.

So as I sat waiting in the lab trying not to vomit, I paged through People magazine, soaking up all of the celebrity gossip. Eventually I got to the standard "Body After Baby!" page. I hate this feature. It is always the same. Photos of a well known movie star in the last weeks of her pregnancy. She is usually looking her worst in a pair of yoga pants clutching a Venti Starbucks Frappacino. Next to the pregnancy photo is the post baby shot. The star is inevitably back into a size zero, has a flat stomach and the caption reads "2 months after baby!" In this particular edition they had a photo of some chick I'm not familiar with, showing off a perfect figure three weeks after giving birth. THREE WEEKS. Folks, I don't believe the uterus has even shrunk to it's normal size at three weeks post partum, so I am wondering what in the world this woman did to achieve a flat stomach?

Of course the article usually goes on to explain what was done to achieve the amazing results in such a short period of time. Usually it sites a diet of lean grilled meat and veggies and a vigorous workout schedule including 4 mile a day runs, pilates, yoga, and weight lifting with a trainer.

I'll have to keep that in mind when I am attempting to shed my baby weight. I'll just make sure that I have my trainer come to the house five times a week while one of my three nannies watches the boys. I'll be sure to have my personal chef whip up some organic veggies and low fat smoothies for me, or I'll have my special, portion controlled meals delivered to the door three times a day.

For the love of God, why does society do this? I believe there used to be a time when women were encouraged to indulge a little while they were pregnant, and not be expected to slip back into the skinny jeans a month after giving birth. Shouldn't we all be a little disgusted by these women who spend more time at the gym after giving birth than nurturing their newborn? I'm not advocating that new mothers never exercise or that they needlessly hold on to an extra thirty pounds, but I am asking for a little reprieve. Let us be. We put enough pressure on ourselves to get our bodies back, we don't need pop culture dictating to us that it should be done inside of two months.

I know there is an easy solution to my dilemma. Stop looking at these magazines.

But then how would I stay up to date on details of the upcoming royal wedding? How would I know if the Bachelor is really in love?

Come on now. I've got my priorities people.

Empty

Empty. My house is empty. I took my boys to the airport at the crack of dawn and watched them walk away from me, their backpacks hanging low on their tiny hips while they held tight to daddy's hands. My eyes burned and I cried all the way home, regretting my decision to stay behind.

My house will be empty for the next seven days. Just me, my stinky dog and my cats. I don't expect you to feel sorry for me. In fact I know most of my mama readers might be downright jealous. It sure does sound appealing doesn't it? Normally I would embrace this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and live it up. But things aren't normal. I'm seven months pregnant. Although I have lived in the bay area for 1.5 years, I still don't have the same network of girlfriends that I have had earlier in my life, so I have few plans for the week. If I were given this gift while (not pregnant) in Denver, I would have immediately planned a girls-night-out at my favorite Lola's. I would have hosted a wine tasting party at my house. I would have hit happy hour with old co-workers. I would have seen a chick flick with my sister.

But that was a different era. Now, I am hormonal, unable to drown my misery in Cabernet, have fewer girlfriends and live far away from family. As a result I am feeling acutely alone. Sad. Missing my family. Worried that my boys won't miss me enough.

Looking on the bright side, I'll have plenty of time for all of my favorite Bravo television, I'll get to sleep in and probably even get a massage. It could be worse, I know. But humor me a little, I'm a bit weepy, so drop me a line and say hello. I could use a little love.

Lunchbox blues.

I am the first to admit that sometimes I get lazy when it comes to meals and that I don't always enforce strict "healthy" eating rules. My kids get Subway or McDonald's about once a week, and Kraft macaroni & cheese on a regular basis. They get treats. Ice cream on a warm Saturday afternoon, a Popsicle after dinner, a donut at the grocery store. That said, I also see to it that they get a variety of good foods every day. Low fat milk, fresh fruits and vegetables from the farmer's market, baked chicken and homemade turkey meatballs.

Additionally, while the kids watch an average of 30 minutes of television a day, they are extremely active. We play outside, visit the parks, ride bikes and just run. Have you seen my kids? Zack's pediatrician actually described him as "ripped" at his five year physical.

I believe that our approach to diet with the boys is balanced and healthy. Fat and sugar are not the enemy if they are an appropriate part of your weekly meal plan.

I admit that I am more than a little bit peeved about the lunch "policy" in Zachary's classroom. Actually, I am down-right hot and bothered.

I do not believe that the "policy" is an official one, at least not one that has been communicated to us parents. I have discovered the rules over time. Chocolate chip granola bars returned at the end of the day, unwrapped. A homemade cookie now smashed to pieces in a Ziploc bag. Apparently no "sweets" allowed.

Zachary and Evan are leaving on vacation on Tuesday with Daddy, so at the grocery store I suggested that get Lunchables for their Monday school lunch. I didn't want to stock up on a bunch of groceries that would go to waste while the kids were away. Lunchables are a special treat and Zack in particular loves them, thus I was very surprised when Zack told me he did not want to bring one to school. Why? I asked. He responded that he was not allowed to eat the dessert part of his boxed lunch at school. "Not even pudding?" I asked. "No, only applesauce."

The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got. Isn't it my job to decide what my kids can and cannot eat? I understand the rules about peanuts, but pudding? Who are his teachers to say that a low fat pudding cup is an inappropriate choice for my son? It's not as if he is bringing potato chips and Ding-Dongs to school every day. As far as I am concerned as long as I am not a) starving my child b) feeding him spoiled food or c) packing crack in his lunchbox, it is really none of any one's business what he eats!

I realize that some families may have different rules about food. Some kids may not be allowed to eat sugar or processed foods of any kind. That is their choice and their business. Their children are going to be confronted with lunch box differences for the rest of their lives. The first grader who is vegan, the high school kid who brings leftover Kentucky Fried Chicken every day and the coworker who survives on vending machine meals. So I apologize if my child's lunch offends others but it seems to me that it's my choice.

What do you think? Honest opinions only please!

A weekend of surprises!

It was a weekend of little surprises. A present, a Berkeley hail storm, and "inked" children.

A Present:

One of my lovely readers, Cameron, is an artist. I actually follow her blog and admire her jewelery. She designs and creates beautiful hair clips, and I recently left a comment on her blog bemoaning the fact that I have no hair, and no daughters to purchase the beautiful accessories for. Cameron's response? I have the perfect clip for your pixie haircut! It arrived at my home today free of charge. It was packaged beautifully, in a bag that included a print she had painted herself. First of all I have to say on the heels of my "Sometimes people suck" post, this was a nice change of pace. Generosity. Random kindness. (And no, she did not ask me to blog about her work.) It reminded me that sometimes people can also be awesome! The hair clip is perfect. She was right, it works with my hair and makes my short "do" seem a little more feminine. The pictures really don't do it justice because I am using my lousy cell phone camera, so you really should hop on over to her site to check out her work. THANK YOU Cameron for your the gift, it really made my day!

A Berkeley Hail Storm:

I grew up in the Midwest, where the winters are bitter cold and the summers are host to a series of fantastic thunderstorms each year. I remember those thunderstorms fondly. The way the sky looked, heavy, ominous and dark with thick clouds ready to unleash a downpour of rain. I loved the thunder and the lightning, although at times frightening, it created an air of excitement and uncertainty. My sister and I would sit looking out our screen windows and wait for the sirens. Tornadoes. When we were young we were frightened of the warnings. As soon as the sirens rang my sister and I would head frantically for the basement bringing our favorite stuffed toys and searching anxiously for our cat. As we grew older the fear subsided and I learned to love the storms which brought such needed relief to the hot sticky Wisconsin summer nights.

We left the Midwest in 2002 for Denver, Colorado, where thunderstorms are infrequent and where locals brag about a "dry heat." I missed the dramatic thunder and lightening storms of home. And now we find ourselves in Berkeley where a storm is almost unheard of. We get rain, oh yes we get rain, but it is a steady, unrelenting rain. No drama, just wet. Very wet. All day long.

But last night we got a lovely surprise. While at dinner with my parents in North Berkeley there was the sudden sound of a downpour. Heavy rain pounding the roof and claps of thunder. The rain quickly solidified into hail and the entire restaurant headed to the front windows for a glimpse of the unusual. The streets were coated with pellet sized hail, resembling snow. People were snapping pictures with their cell phones, and creating make-shift snowballs. The atmosphere was positively festive. Today, unfortunately the weather returned to it's usual pattern of all-day rain.

Inked Children

It has been an absolute pleasure to watch my boys become friends (FINALLY) over the past several months. Instead of constant fighting, we now get a lot of fighting mixed in with some mutual play. At times they actually enjoy each others company. Today was one of those days. We were so happy to hear the kids giggling together downstairs in the playroom that we just let them be. Twenty minutes later Zack and Evan emerged-naked and covered in markers. I mean covered. Perhaps I was suppose to be angry, but all I could do was laugh. And snap a few photos...

Sometimes People Suck

Really? No, Really?

Sometimes people surprise you. In a bad way. In the past I have often marvelled at how lovely people can be in the presence of a pregnant lady. They offer to carry your packages, they inquire about your due date, they offer you their seat on a crowded BART train. Let me repeat that. They offer you their seat on a crowded BART train.

Or not.

I am starting to wonder just how large I am going to have to get before someone....ANYONE, offers me their seat. I am clearly, visibly knocked up at this point, and I am quite sure that no sighted person could miss my protruding stomach. Yet day after day, I stand fighting for space on the hand rail. Perhaps I have to start moaning loudly and grabbing my belly to get the attention of a comfortable sitting passenger.

Today was no different, however there was an added twist. One that shined a glaring spotlight on how insensitive a train full of people can be. I boarded a crowded car. There was no place to sit. I noticed a very large man with a cane standing, his back pressed up against a wall. I shuffled in and found a spot in front of the seats reserved for people with disabilities, occupied by seemingly healthy young professionals. I stood. The car moved through the tunnel. Eight minutes later we arrived on the other side. The train came to a stop, and one seat was vacated. I made a move for the open spot, but then noticed that the man with the cane was going for the very same spot. I nodded to the man and relinquished the seat. He thanked me and sat down.

I looked around. Did anyone notice that the pregnant lady just had to give up her seat to a disabled man because nobody else would do it?

I shook my head silently and promised myself that I would teach my own children better manners.

8:25am, January, 1996

I glance at the alarm clock. 8:25am. I had hit the snooze button one two many times. Game-time decision. If I get up now, I would still have time to throw on a pair of sweats and a baseball hat and make the hike up Bascom Hill to my 8:50. No time for coffee though. I roll over and look out the ice covered window. The high would be 25 degrees today. Bloody cold. Too cold. I pull the covers over my head and shut my eyes. It's only Botany. I'm studying to be a social worker, so what do I care about photosynthesis anyways? Besides this particular professor literally reads her lecture word-for-word from her overhead projector slides, and I can purchase those notes from the student union on Thursday. I'm going back to bed. My next class isn't until 11:00.

I had a mentor for a brief time in college. She facilitated a teen-parenting program at a local non-profit where I was interning my senior year. She gave me a ride home on Tuesday evenings. Each night as we approached my apartment she would sigh heavily and confess how jealous she was of my life. She was a young, working mother, and could think of nothing better than spending hours in the library studying. Meeting friends for lunch. Working out at 2:00 in the afternoon. Drinking on a Wednesday night. I would roll my eyes as she would gush on. What did she know? My life was not carefree. I worried. I worried about my grades. I worried about my appearance. I worried about my relationship. I worried about my future. Yet, I never forgot those conversations, somehow I knew that one day I would understand her point of view.

Today I do.

Today I woke up at 7:00. I had accidentally slept in. Our usual alarm clocks have been sleeping later since the time change. I was tired and groggy, and wished that I could play hooky for the day. But there is no calling in sick anymore. Somehow the pre-negotiated occasional girls afternoon out doesn't seem to count. The "Can I go to a movie on Saturday? I promise I will be home in time for the bedtime routine" cannot compare with spur-of-the-moment decision to take a day off. Pure freedom.

I know that I am suppose to profess that I would never turn back the time, that life is so much better today. In many ways this is true. But if I was offered the opportunity to temporarily travel back in time to that cold morning in 1996, I wouldn't turn it down.

Baby Shower for #3?

Baby Shower for a third offspring? Heck yeah, bring it on! Okay, Okay, I admit that I had some reservations about a party in my honor for the third baby boy, but my mother offered and I couldn't resist, I have never been one to shy away from the center of attention.

People may think that I was being a wee-bit greedy in having yet another shower, and I can see that point of view. But in all honesty, this wasn't an excuse for gift-grabbing, but rather I thought a much needed reason for a party. Being pregnant is hard. Probably more hard when you already have two young ones at home. When I was expecting my first son there was plenty of time for "self care." I napped when I wanted, I watched TV as soon as I got home from work, I slept in on the weekends and ate cereal for breakfast without worrying about feeding two growing boys. This time around I don't have any of those luxuries. I'm tired and have little opportunity for me time. So do I deserve a little pampering? You betcha! And furthermore, doesn't baby #3 deserve to be celebrated just as much as baby #1? I happen to think so.

So today my mom threw me an intimate shower at home. We hired a mobile spa to come and give each guest an arm/hand massage and paraffin dip. We munched on dainty cupcakes and sipped mimosas. Some of my girlfriends gave me baby gear that they were no longer using, the very baby gear I once owned, but gave away when we made the move to Oakland, thinking the likelihood of a third was very limited. I also got a whole host of other lovely gifts, some for me (got a problem with that?) and some for baby.

It was a lovely afternoon and I feel so lucky to have friends and family who are willing to spoil me a little. And ladies, if you should have a second, third or fourth baby, I would be more than happy to come to your baby shower and return the favor!

Ever feel like a loser?

Does social networking ever make you feel unpopular? Do you notice who has more Facebook friends than you do? Who gets more comments on their blog?

I have to say that occasionally my facebook account and this little blog make me feel a bit....unloved. My mother and I have had several conversations about how the simple lack of comments on a latest Facebook status can make one feel like a loser. It can be like telling a joke to a room full of people, which is then followed by utter silence. Oops.

My mom has provided many examples of times when she has posted something somewhat significant on her Facebook page only to get nothing... not even from her beloved daughters. Guilty. A day later she will take notice of a friend with a status update regarding a hang-nail which garners 52 comments from all of that individuals best buddies. It's a bit...disheartening.

I have experienced this very feeling on my blog. Readers I adore you, but I wonder, why so silent? I find it interesting that some bloggers can post a poorly written essay about polishing their shoes and receive 100 enthusiastic comments, whereas I rarely get more than a small handful of responses even when I am at my wittiest. And man can I get witty. Ahem.... (no comments necessary here.)

One of the bloggers I regularly follow, The Mommyhood Memos, recently wrote a piece on how to generate more blog comments . She suggested turning off the word verification requirement for commentors. Well I have now done so. Will it help?

Time will tell.

'

The floor is yours commentors...write away.

Spoiled, but oh so cute!

So maybe I spoil my boys just a little. Sometimes I can't help myself. It brings me so much joy to see their little faces light up when I have a surprise for them.

Today was the utmost in spoiling action.

This morning after finally achieving a major success in the potty department Evan earned his incentive-a trip to McDonald's. So really, that isn't spoiling because he earned it right? The whole thing was actually a giant mistake. He did the deed first thing in the morning. We praised him endlessly and his brother immediately started jumping up and down shouting "McDonald's!! McDonald's!!" Well it was 7:30 am, and dinner was a long way away. I had to explain to Evan that we would make the trip in the evening. Not being one for delayed gratification, he had a total meltdown that lasted well after I dropped him off at preschool. (I know because one of his teachers actually called me and asked me to return to school to comfort him.) He eventually got over it, and this evening we did in fact make it to my children's fast-food fantasy land. Unfortunately we selected a ghetto McDonald's in Oakland near my husband's work. It was an unpleasant experience overall, but the kids hardly seemed to noticed as they dunked sodium rich fries in ketchup and sipped chocolate milk from plastic jugs. Only the best for my boys.

In addition to the McDonald's trip, today I purchased my boys two overpriced astronaut suits. Purim is coming up, and it is celebrated with costumes and parties at the JCC, so I figured what the heck. I stopped into a children's store over my lunch hour, and there they were, exactly two orange astronaut jump suits. One in a size 5/6 and one in a size 2/3. It was meant to be. Forget the price tag. My space-crazed boys were going to love them.

And they did. They wore them to McDonald's in fact.

And after dinner....they asked for cookies. Spoiled little munchkins.....

But damn, they are cute!!

Bad Person

Why I'm a bad person:

I yelled at my kid's multiple times to "get going!" this morning. They were playing so sweetly together but I was running late.

I rolled my eyes at the very Berkeley bumper sticker on the car parked in front of me. It read "If you live in your heart you would already be home." Lovely right?

I gave a Peet's Barista the evil eye as I stood in line impatiently waiting to place my order. He was chatting up a pretty young customer and I was in a hurry.

I have already made the decision to take the boys to Subway for dinner tonight, abandoning a refrigerator full of healthy food. I am just to tired to cook.

I felt sad when my son informed his preschool teacher cheerfully that he would have to miss the all school Shabbat celebration because he was going to Florida with his dad. I felt so badly that I went to my car to cry.

I'm not going to Florida with my family this year. I made the decision to stay home instead, and now I am full of regret. I feel selfish and already lonely, anticipating a week of solitude. Why did I decide not to join my boys on vacation? Because I thought it would be too exhausting. In my delicate condition I didn't think that I could take the hassle of the long flight with two kids, the time difference and the sleepless nights that would result. It just seemed like too much work to be a holiday. Now that I am working I have precious little vacation time and in order to take this trip I would burn two whole days in travel alone. Unpleasant travel. It just didn't seem worth it.

But now when I see the look of excitement on Zachary's face as he talks about swimming in the pool and collecting shells on the beach I am having second thoughts. My kids will be going on a vacation without their mother. Creating memories that will not include me. It hurts.

At first I thought I would relish the time to myself. Evenings with nothing to do but watch Bravo and eat Popsicles. No dinner to fuss with, no lunches to pack no fights to negotiate, no bed time routine. But as the trip grows closer I find myself dreading the empty nights and missing my little boys.

I'm a bad person. I should have agreed to go on the trip. I was being selfish and lazy when I made this decision. But now it seems too late to change my mind. I have a job and upcoming maternity leave to think about, and honestly I feel an obligation to stay.

I know if I went I would probably be irritable and resentful, wishing for a nap at 2:00 in the afternoon, but stuck on a hot beach in an over sized maternity swimsuit hours away from my in laws home. Id probably be a bitch.

Then again, maybe I already am. At least I'm still smiling!

Thanks for checking in....

I am feeling rather uninspired these days. What to blog about? Ho-hum, I don't know. Does anyone really want to hear my take on Charlie Sheen? Probably not. Do you want to read about the crappy work mojo I have experienced the past few weeks? Boring. How about my new found love for Dryer's Fruit Bars? I could eat an entire package, I swear to God. But not really blog worthy is it? I'm pretty much waddling these days. Interesting? No?

Honestly, I'm a blank. I've got nothing.

Thanks for checking in.

Not a fan

Dear Author Of The Captain Underpants Books,

I do not like you. Not even a little. I am sorry that my children ever discovered you. It must have been a classmate that made the introduction, it certainly was not me. I have taste. I have manners. I am a little repressed when it comes to bodily functions. If it were left to me I would have filled the bookshelves with Beverly Cleary (why yes she did more than the Ramona books!)

Beverly Cleary wrote clever books about mice riding motorcycles and they aren't in the least bit offensive. Your vile stories however, leave me cringing as I read. Do I really have to say words like Frankenboogers and BM aloud? Gross, Gross, Grossest.

Mr. Author of this terrible series, do you have any idea how long and hard we have worked to eliminate potty language in this house? It has been a battle, and there was some tremendous progress made, and then your books. Now my children are reenacting tales of purple potties and booger throwing. I want to gag.

Did you never grow up? Do you not realize how cheap your humor is? Don't tell me to lighten up. I have a feeling you were an unpopular kindergartner and now you are just trying to make up for it in your older age.

Shame on you.

Signed,

Not Laughing

Check out my post, and another $25 Starbucks Giftcard!

I have a post featured on one of my favorite sites-World's Worst Moms. This blog is a collection of mom's who write in and share their parenting mishaps. It's brutally honest, so not a lot of fluffy feel good posts. (Those have a time and place too, but as you may have noticed I just tend to prefer snark.)

Please check out my post, and yes there is a giveaway for a $25 Starbucks giftcard on the site-so enter today! I did!

http://www.worldsworstmoms.com/2011/03/one-of-those-nights.html

Because I deserve it.

When I was a teenager my grandmother Lillian gave me a gift for my birthday. I forget which one. What I do remember is that she took me to Ruby Tuesdays at the mall for lunch and presented me with a giant red garnet ring. It was far too big for my hand or my taste, but the color was beautiful. At lunch she told me the story of her ring.

After my grandfather Fred passed away she was devastated. In fact in all honestly, I do not believe she ever got over it. I did not know my grandfather, he died when I was just a baby, and my grandmother went on to live many years without him. According to her story the first Valentine's Day after Fred's passing she was feeling miserable, she missed her husband terribly and was lonely. She walked passed a jewelry store that day and made the decision to go inside and buy herself a gift. She picked out this giant red ring, and I believe to her it was a symbol that life would go on.

I loved that ring. Unfortunately, I lost the ring and the other pieces of jewelry she had given me. My small inheritance was in a box that got misplaced while moving from one apartment to another a few years after her passing.

So I no longer have the garnet, but I keep the lesson that I learned close to my heart. Consumerism is grand even when it is for yourself. Especially when it is for yourself!

In all seriousness, every now and then I do purchase myself a special gift, and I think of my grandma Lilly when I do. Most recently, I got a mother/child necklace. I love to wear this little bird family around my neck. I picked it out during my dark days of morning sickness and illness in December and decided...heck I deserved it. I especially like that it is a mama bird with three chicks. My three little chicks. Zachary, Evan and Baby. What could be more beautiful than that?

Thanks Grandma.