A Confession

I admit it, I am a sucker for bubble gum rock. To me there is nothing better than a catchy song that makes you want to roll down the car windows and sing along at the top of your lungs. I hate to say it, but I prefer a fun melody to the more artistic works of say, Bob (will this song ever end?) Dylan.

"Big Girls Don't Cry" (Fergie), Love it.
"We Belong Together" (Taylor Swift), Turn the radio up.
"Jesus Take The Wheel" (Carrie Underwood), Singing it my head right now. (And oye vey, I'm Jewish, what can I say?)

It makes my husband cringe. He likes music with soul, music with cryptic lyrics and complicated instrumentals. He admires talent. And so do I, really I do... however there is something about some tunes that just make you feel good.

But I have gone to far. Truly I have. This is a big confession.

The song, beyond unintelligent, borders on offensive. Shall we begin with the (miss)spelling of Gurls? Is this suppose to be clever? And who can relate to these bikini clad ladies in "California Gurls"? I myself would prefer to be seen in a parka on the beach these days, anything to avoid exposing my midriff. And really? The line about the Popsicle. Bad.

Yet, I simply cannot help myself. I like it. I want to hear it. When my husband reaches to turn the radio dial, I slap his hand away, and instead turn up the volume.

For your reading pleasure.....the lyrics, folks:

California Gurls

We're unforgettable

Daisy Dukes

Bikinis on Top

Sun kissed skin

So hot

We'll melt your Popsicle

ooooh oh ooooh

California Gurls

We're undeniable

Fine, Fresh, Fierce

We got it on lock

West coast represent

Now put your hands up

ooooh oh ooooh

Ahh... Thank you Katy Perry, Dylan ain't got nothin' on you. Genius.

Please don't forget to enter my blog contest. Winner gets a pair of beautiful Gabby Goo earrings!

Enter here.

Great Give Away-Beautiful Jewlery from Gabby Goo!

Who doesn't like a good farmer's market? All that fresh fruit, the free samples, homemade jams, musicians and local artists... Well my son Zachary, that is who. He senses us approaching a weekend farmers market and groans.... "But I want to do something fun! Not boring!" We try to reason with him, "This is fun Zack! Don't you want to try some berries? Look- fresh cheese curds and wine tasting... er, I mean juice tasting! Fun!" Zack might stuff a couple Mandarin oranges in his mouth but he isn't fooled, this is way too grown up.

Except, we have learned how to scope out the markets with...da..da..dah.... bounce houses! You can't go wrong with a bounce house. The boys get to jump around for few minutes and then we get our share of people watching and fresh produce. Except. Except when there is not a bounce house. This is when we pull out the big guns. The bribes. How about a brownie? A muffin? Ice cream? Yes, we are those kind of parents. Guilty as charged.

This is what happened last weekend. We visited a park and played endlessly on the equipment, and although fun, I was ready for something a bit more grown up. On the way home, driving through a neighborhood we were not totally familiar with, we stumbled upon a small farmer's market. It spanned only a few blocks. Ignoring protests from the backseat we pulled over and dragged the kiddos out. "Only for a few minutes guys! We will find you a treat". It was pushing 1:00, and the vendors were tearing down their stands. It was really just a few fruit and veggie stands and we passed by quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I caught site of a table showcasing sweet homemade baby blankets, the most adorable bunny stuffed animals ever, bibs and mama treats. Yes, mama treats. Purses and jewelry. I had to stop. Of course I did. But sensing that I was on a very short leash, (neither the hubby nor the kiddos care for this type of shopping) I quickly picked up a business card for Gabby Goo and hurried my kids to the ice cream stand before it shut down.

On my way back, scoop of blackberry ice cream in hand, and two happy kids in tow, I made one last swing through Gabby Goo, and spoke with the owner, Barbara. She is a bay area mama, and sells her sweet baby products, jewelry and purses at farmers markets and a couple of local shops (Kid Dynamo). I asked her if she would be willing to donate a product for a blog giveaway and she enthusiastically agreed....

So-you (lucky you!) have a chance to win a pair of Gabby Goo's beautiful earrings! (pictured above) I love these birdie earrings and will have a hard time relinquishing them to the winner, but I can't win my own contest.

What do you have to do to win?

Easy-peecy, lemon squeezy.

1) You must be a follower

2) You must comment to this post by Saturday July 3

3) You must check back to see if you are the winner. The winner will be selected at random using my highly technical name from a hat method. The winner will have until July 6 to respond with their mailing address, or another winner will be selected.

4) Bonus, if you post a link to http://www.getrealmama.blogspot.com/ on your Facebook, Twitter or Blog and let me know, I will enter your name twice!

That's it.

Good luck!

Monday Mind/Mama Heart

Clip clop, clip, clop, high heel shoes clacking on the pavement.

I am bracing myself against a stiff city wind as I head to the office.
Down Battery street, past the coffee shops and the hurried business folk chattering into cell phones.

My mind is back home. Back at the county fair, basking in the sun. Spinning around the memory of my sticky-sweet toddler loving on an ice cream cone.


Get your mind in Monday Rachel.
Think
You have interviews to do today.
Think
You need to find more candidates
Think.



I try to get myself back in that space, that worky place of organization and creativity but my mind drifts back.



To the pile of laundry that still needs to be done
To the bills that I need to remember to pay
To what the heck are we going to do on the 4th of July.



Get your mind back in Monday.
Think.
You have reports to create
Think
You have to remember to decline last week's candidates
Think




Funny Evan, climbing to the top of the Super Slide only to beg to be carried all the way back down.
Memorial Park - great place to host Zack's fifth birthday party. Need to remember to reserve a spot.
Forgot to tell the nanny to put sunscreen on the boys




Get your mind in Monday Rachel!



Clip clop, clip clop heels on pavement, the first light I have seen since morning.
Heading home in a hurry, marching toward the train. Running late.


I need to determine what is on the menu for tonight. No more pizza. Those boys are going to turn into giant pepperonis.
Think
I guess we can play outside, the weather is nice.
Think



I should have found more prospects today.
I still need a good VP candidate




Get your heart at home Rachel!
Think
Aren't you excited to see your boys?
Feel
You bought chicken at the market, you are suppose to make casserole, will it take too long?
Think


Did I remember to send an update to my boss?
Maybe I can log on for a few minutes once I get home to check.

Get your heart at home Rachel!
Think.
You need to fill out preschool paperwork for next year.
Think
You need to schedule a check up for Zachary
Think

Stop.

You need to love your boys.
You need to hug them
To play with them
To give them undivided attention.
Get your heart at home Rachel!

Sometimes my Monday Mind and Mama heart get all mixed up.

Back in time

Fingers sticky with the pink residue of spun sugar

The smell of cow dung hangs in air that hums with the twang of the Dixie Chicks

Hips stuffed into daisy dukes too tight

Hairspray

Teenagers gitty with new found freedom

A kiss stolen on the ferris wheel.

Only 25 cents a throw folks, step right up!

Mama can I have it please?

A faded Metalica T-shirt stretched wide over a middle age belly

Turkey legs and pickles on a stick

Cheap stilettos and cowboy boots

Sunburned shoulders and crying babies

A child's eyes wide gazing at Bessie, the enormous prize pig

Flirty girls in skin-tight jeans and halter tops, clutch plastic cups of Miller Light

Henna Tattoos and Caricatures

Pizza on a stick?

A terrible 80's cover-band

Shrieks of self-imposed fear from rickety ancient carnival rides.

Mama can I have it please?

A laughing toddler marveling at her mylar Spiderman balloon

The sweet aroma of funnel cakes and Kettle Corn

Gluttony

A family photo

An old fashioned pie-eating contest

An elderly woman sits on a bench fanning herself with a park map and sneers at the boys wearing their pants too low and their hats the wrong way.

Free cheese samples in the dairy hall, come and get it!

Blazing sun and lemonade

Mama I said can I have it PLEASE?

A day at the Fair

A memory

Nearly unchanged across decades.

Step right up......

Mama's Boy

"I want mommy do it!" No sweeter words to my ears.

Maybe it's a bit mean and a tad selfish but I get great satisfaction when Evan shows a preference for Mommy. Zachary never did, save maybe two days when he was around three months old. Nope, Zachary has always been, well all about Daddy. He loves the way his father rough houses and gets wild with him. He likes that Daddy can still haul him around on this shoulders and throw him into a swimming pool. He is a sucker for Daddy's sense of humor. I have never been able to compete, and it has been a source of sadness and jealousy for me.

But Evan. Sweet Evan is an entirely different story. To begin with he is far more timid than his older brother. He doesn't enjoy the rough play as much and is less likely to accept the attention of perfect strangers. And he likes his mama best. At least for now. I realize this will likely be short lived. Once he is ready for little league I'll probably be cast aside. So I am going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Last night Evan wanted me to carry him to the car and buckle him in his seat as we headed out for dinner at the Circus Pub. Once we arrived at the uber kid-friendly English style restaurant, he began to cry when we left him in the kid's play area to enjoy our beers at the dinner table. He was only soothed once I picked him up and placed him on my lap. He remained there for most of the duration of the meal, marking my freshly washed white jeans with oodles of sticky ketchup prints. But I hardly minded, what kind of moron am I anyway for even purchasing white jeans? I would be better off with plastic overalls. And they were the needy fingerprints of a mama's boy hands. I should frame them for later years when he is off playing golf with dad.

So yes, I love the preferential treatment. Even if it means he would rather have me change the dirty diaper, and wipe his snotty nose.

These moments are fleeting.

Dear California,

Dear State of California Customer Service Department,

California, with all due respect I am extremely disappointed in your service. I moved out here in October with the promise of a snow free winter and your beckoning wine country. California, I am disappointed.

Let's talk about this winter. Okay, no snow. Fantastic. Except. Except there were days upon days of endless rain. Rain that came down in sheets all day. Not stopping. Endless. Forcing me to take my children to germ infested indoor "play areas", which by the way bored me to tears.

And the pay off? This "summer". This "summer" which requires me to wear long pants and a jacket every day. This "summer" which has our nanny arriving to the door in the morning clad in a wool cap and cupping a steaming cup of hot coffee. I am sorry. Let me clarify... this is summer right?

In addition I am gravely disturbed by the housing situation in this fair state. I left a 3000 square foot home in a beautiful Denver neighborhood and moved into a little home in Berkeley. Yes, I mean little. L-i-t-t-l-e, little. A third of the space, for a third more per month... you do the math. I am not happy. At first, I thought it was sweet. I tried to make the best of the shoe box we call home. I went to the Container Store and bought boxes of various sizes so I could get organized. But you try shoving 3000 square feet into 1200. No amount of handy plastic contraptions can contain that mess, we are busting at the seems. And P.S. I hate it.

What else? You think I am done? California I am not. I am sick of your money grubbing state employees. Your meter maids that patrol the streets, waiting hungrily for the very second my meter expires. Placing your $50 ticket upon my windshield as I walk to the car, pushing a stroller and shoeing my preschooler towards my vehicle. Too late, they smirk. Your vile BART worker who sneers at me as I try to explain that I lost my brand new $30 ticket on the train. He stares with beady eyes "$5.50 for a lost ticket!" He demands, accusing me of trying to snake my way into a free trip. Hello, do I look like I am looking for a free ride? All dressed up with my laptop slung across my tired shoulder. Please.

California, you are a snob. Yes you have the ocean. Yes you have the bridges. Yes you have the tourists, and the endless fresh produce. But... I want my summer. I want to park my car for free. I want my Denver back. The sun beating down and baking my skin to a golden brown. The perfect summer nights, just the right temperature for a scoop of gelato at my beloved Red Trolley. My beautiful house with space to move and room to spare. I want my Denver back.

California, I'm mad. You have some explaining to do. I am waiting for my refund.

Your new resident,

Rachel

Behind The Music: Jam Master Z

Born Zachary Paul Kargas in 2005, Jam Master Z grew up in the heart of Denver Colorado. At the tender age of 3 months Z was sent to a downtown daycare center where he quickly learned to hold his own amongst gangs of violent toddlers. His first single "My Truck!' in 2007 showcased his frustration as he struggled to assert his independence and survive in a troubled environment.

Mine! Yo! That's Mine.

My My My My Truck!

Take your hands off it bro! I know it's fine.

But that truck is Mine!

Although the song did poorly with the critics it resonated with his peers, and Jam Master Z was an instant sensation.

Z topped the charts in 2007 and started to hit the playgroup circuit which took it's toll. Months of late afternoon birthday parties and chocolate milk binges left Z in a dark period, suffering from debilitating acid reflux. His song "Playground fool" was a clear call for help.

I'm a playground king

But the names do sting.

Running around

Like a sonic comet

til' I start to vomit.

Used to be the cool kid in school, now I'm a playground fool

His parents listened to his plea for help and intervened sending him to a specialist and ultimately moving him across the country to California where they could start anew and help Z further his career. Z enrolled in a Jewish preschool and found religion, releasing his newest single in late 2009, a holiday song, Shalom, it's Christmas Time. The song topped the charts at the Berkeley JCC and Jam Master Z career seemed to be in full recovery.

Today Z looks to the future with a new found hope as he draws on his own volatile childhood for artistic inspiration, he hopes to inspire other youngsters in daycare centers and preschools across the country. His future is once again bright.