Dear Crayola

Thank you.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for inventing washable markers.



The above would be my laptop, covered in teal blue ink. Mommy says, "OH SHIT! My tech guy is sure going to freak when he sees this."

Thank you making such an incredibly useful and valuble product.



And while it's hard to see in the photo, that is our phone also covered in teal blue ink. Mommy's previous statement is followed up with, "CRAP! Daddy is sure going to freak when he sees this!"

Thank you for making a product that actually does what it promises (in this case, washes off easily).



Loaf says, "My teal blue face and I really, really thank you!"

Notepad mystery

OK, so I don't have a lot of mystery left in my life at this point (unless it's wondering if my child is going to poop in the middle of my aerobics class thus causing me to miss the entire abs segment or looking high and low for a treasured stuffed animal that seems to have disappered into thin air). But other than that, it's pretty much the same old stuff day in and day out.

Which is why I am so intrigued by what I discovered in my notepad this morning. I took this brand-new notepad, which is nothing special - just a 5"x8", white lined, 50-page ordinary pad - from my office's supply closet last week. Since then, I have used it to furiously take notes during several interviews, write down a few phone numbers, and jot some of my to-do lists.

But today as I recorded some notes from a phone interview, I flipped the page to find this scrawled smack in the middle of the pad:

HUNDRED YEARS' WAR
FRANCE & ENGLAND 1337-1453
CHARACTERS: JOAN OF ARC, SHAKS//HENRY V, HENRY VI
PART 1 (AGINCOURT?)
1154 TO THRONE HENRY
PLANTAGENET (COUNT OF ANJOU)
EDWARD (BLACK PRINCE) 1356 A.D.)

That's it. The rest of the book is blank. The handwriting is most definitely not that of any of my coworkers. So who is the author? Does someone at the TOPS Paper Company have a fetish for English history? Maybe he (or she) is an aspiring writer? Maybe I have in my hands the beginnings of a great novel or screenplay? Above all, why would you choose to put those notes in the middle of an otherwise unused notebook? And then send it down the assembly line?

Alas, I'll probably never know answers to these and other mysteries surrounding my notepad. But at least for 10 minutes today, I got to feel a bit like Robert Stack. (Yes, I really, really need to get a life.)

Play that gay, funky music

Every now and then, I come across something that makes me either laugh out loud because it’s so ridiculous or roll my eyes because, well, it’s so ridiculous.

This made me do both.

Who knew that gay bands were such a threat to our young people? Who knew that listening to the likes of Cole Porter, Metallica and Eminem (and did you ever think you’d see all three of them on a list together?) could turn our children into homosexuals (all this time I was just thinking people were either born gay or born straight. How stupid am I?)

Who knew that Frank Sinatra (Sinatra?!?) had a gay agenda to promote?

My God! I’ve been so naïve about this for the last 37 years! I spent my teen years listening to Madonna, Erasure and (“really gay” – thanks for clarifying) Elton John. Through college I listened to The Doors, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Indigo Girls. I’ve done the YMCA by the Village People at countless weddings and parties and have been to three Rolling Stones concerts. I am soooo lucky not to be gay right now! With so much gayness being thrown at me, how did I ever escape?

And you can bet that I won’t be playing John Mayer around my kids anymore. Sorry John, but I simply can’t have you go turning my daughters gay. What was I thinking??

Instead, I vow to fill up my iPod, with all 15 bands on the Safe List and only then will I be able to sleep easy each night knowing I have taken the necessary steps toward protecting my children from the powerful influence of homosexual music.

Whew. This parenting stuff is hard.

What's your dream?

Everyone has a dream.

Mark’s dream is to write and direct screenplays. And for the past several months he's spent many early mornings and late nights writing, in my completely unbiased opinion (HA!), a really great one called Seinfeld The Movie. No, but seriously. It's really good! I think he did a fantastic job capturing the essence of the main characters, which was not easy. Take a look! A few scenes are online.

Unfortunately, he's shopped it around with the main players and no one would even read it (due to the legal restrictions about who owns the rights to the characters, names, etc.) so it doesn't appear that anything is going to come of it. You would think Michael Richards would really need the work and thus push hard for this after his little um . . . rant last year, but nope! Go figure?

Who knows if his dream will ever come true, but I give him a ton of credit for giving it a shot. A lot of people at his stage in life, myself included probably, wouldn’t even try. Hats off, babe.

If she were a superhero I'd call her . . .

Garlic Girl!

Today in my house, I noticed a sudden, strong odor of garlic but couldn't figure out the source.

Following my nose, I made my way to Peanut's room where the odor went up about 100 points on the olfactory decimal scale (if there even is such a thing).

Me: Um, Peanut? Did you get into some garlic?
Peanut: (Very proudly) Yes, Mommy! I ate it!
Me: You ate it? Did you eat a lot of it?
Peanut: No. Just two.
Me: Two? Two bites?
Peanut: No, two big ones.
Me: Two big ones? You mean two cloves? You ate two whole cloves of garlic?
Peanut: (Staring blankly at me for a moment then grining widely). Two big ones, Mommy! They were good!
Me: Mmm hmmm. Well, where are the peels?
Peanut: This way, Mommy. (Leads me into kitchen where she opens up the garbage can and points). There. They're all in there.
Me: (Opening lid and confirming that yes indeed, there lay the peels of about two cloves of garlic.)

Hey, at least she threw away the peels.

Now, does anyone know if Altoids are safe for kids?

And the word of the day is:

Other words that qualify:
Awesome!
Woo hoo!
Yeah baby!

And lastly:
HALLELUJAH!!!

Congratulate me!

I am an auntie again to . . . another niece!

Her name is Grace and she arrived earlier today. She and her parents are both doing well.

So, for those keeping track that's 0 in 6 on the conception of boychildren among Mark and his siblings.

Tea parties! Pink! Princess outfits! Bring 'em on. :-)

Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your long hair.

You know how when you’re around some one all the time you don’t really notice subtle changes in them? For example, you don’t really notice that your child’s growth until maybe one day you go to slip on her jeans (the ones you had to cuff when you first bought them) and realize they are now highwaters.

Well, I don’t know exactly when it happened, but sometime in the last few months my baby Loaf grew herself some hair!

August:



December:



OK, Rapunzel she is not, but it’s clearly thicker than it was in the August picture. Go Loaf!

Oh and speaking of this little beauty, when I walked into the daycare center in the gym today, she was standing in the middle of the play area with her overalls around her ankles (undressing is her new trick). As I was pulling up her pants, she kept trying to toddle over to a boy clearly her senior whilst making smoochy kissy noises. Let’s hope these behaviors cease by the time she reaches junior high.

Random things I ponder

Why is it that as soon as my children go to bed and I’m finally free of anyone needing me to change their diaper, wipe their nose, fetch them a snack or read them a story that my cat suddenly becomes the most needy animal on the planet insisting on sitting on my lap, being petted and meowing incessantly if neither is done on exactly her terms?

Why is it when I’m out looking for something specific (black boots, a new white blouse, etc.) I can’t find it, but when I’m just passing through a store with no time to browse I see about 60 things I want to buy?

Why do I never think to call a friend and catch up when I actually have 20 minutes of downtime, but when I’m racing around like a madwoman all I can think about is the long list of people to whom I owe calls?

Why is my skin always its clearest on the weeks when I am not seeing any friends, family or clients but the minute I make plans? Bingo. Huge zit (or zits).

Why, in the early 1990s when I was in college and had a perfectly flat stomach, was it all the rage to wear gigantic sweatshirts down to your knees?

Why is it that this is the first winter that I actually want snow so I can take the girls outside, build a snowman and make snow angels that there has not been so much as one flurry all season and apparently no chance of one coming anytime soon?

Why do people still like American Idol so much when it has only produced one real star to date?

Why is it I can remember my best friend from second grade’s phone number (663-3708) but I’m constantly forgetting passwords for my e-mail, ATM card and office keypad?

And finally, why do I waste my time thinking about so much trivial crap when I’ve got more pressing, serious things to worry about?

Fair warning

To the anonymous boy who clocked my daughter on the head with a toy truck in the daycare center of the gym today leaving a huge purple welt above her eyebrow:

Touch my kid again and I will send a big, hairy, brown, sharp-toothed, clawed monster to haunt your closet every night until your college graduation. That and I will find you and rat you out and make sure your mother knows she is raising a bully so she can send your ass into time out and get you straightened out now before you wind up in Juvenile Detention.

Consider yourself warned you snot-nosed, chicken-shit, rotten brat.

Signed,

One Mama Bear You Don't Want to Fuck With

Resolved

Yeah, yeah. So it's January 3 and I'm just getting these up. Sue me.

1. Continue working out regularly and with more intensity with the goal of dropping 5 to 7 more pounds. Not much else to say about this one. I'd love to drop one more size and maybe (fingers crossed) wear a bikini this summer.

2. Read more regularly. I must have 10 books piled up in my bedroom, plus I really want to reread all the Harry Potter books before book seven is released this year, so I better get cracking. Mark and I decided to implement one Family Reading Night per week and build from there.

3. Spend more time playing with/enjoying my kids. OK, this sounds bad. I do play with my kids and I do enjoy them (mostly), but I also feel constantly like I'm pushing them off to straighten up the kitchen or fold laundry or (gasp!) just play on the computer. So I'm going to try to let some of this other stuff go a bit more and really enjoy my time with them because I just know I'm going to look up one morning and they're going to be leaving for college. ::sniff::

4. Go on regular date nights with my husband. We have a babysitter now, so there's no excuse. I think one monthly night out is the bare minimum.

5. Stay in better contact with friends. This is another one of those "blink and they're gone" type of things. Time has a way of just rushing along and I get caught up in that. So I'm going to do a better job of calling, emailing and making plans with my friends.

6. Find a church and get my kids baptized. Sigh. I could write a book on this. I was sort of raised Catholic (I say sort of because I was never confirmed), but my social views don't match up with those of the Church. (Like the no birth control thing. I have no intention of NOT using birth control. Sorry. Period. Not gonna do it.) And I feel it's hypocritical to attend a church with so many viewpoints that I cannot and will not support. At the same time, I believe in a higher power. I pray. I want my kids to have some type of spiritual foundation. I'm thinking Presbyterian or Episcopalian, but I have to get out there and attend some mass and talk with some priests in order to make a good decision.

Showing our (HIS) age

Last night around 10 p.m., Mark and I settled in front of the TV in our pajamas and flipped on Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve. As the opening credits rolled telling us that there would be performances by Rhianna, the Jersey Boys and Fergie, it dawned on me how it’s somewhat pathetic that we are no longer participants in the annual New Year’s revelry, but just passive observers watching the action on a lighted box in our living room.

Then, Mark asked The Question.

“That Fergie person? What’s she doing on here? Isn’t she someone from the Royal Family.”

And I laughed and laughed and laughed until I snorted and gasped for air and had tears streaming down my face. It was almost as good as the alcohol-induced high I experienced every Dec. 31st in my 20s. Almost.