Girls Don’t Play With Boys - September 14, 2012

My daughter can be a tomboy at times.  Not because she likes to roughhouse or excels at coed sports (her legs are so long that she runs like Phoebe from friends and she’s so klutzy that the other day she literally tripped over her own foot on level ground).  She’s a tomboy because she likes to play with boys and boy “stuff”; she loves dinosaurs, trains, cars and superheroes.


She is well rounded.  She’s still been tapped by Disney’s magic wand and loves all things princess, but given the choice, a dinosaur in a princess dress would suit her best.  

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Hormonal Bull - September 12, 2012

Never mess with a premenopausal woman during PMS.  You mess with the bull, you get the horns.  Okay, I’m not really sure when I’ll hit menopause (could be 5 or 15 years), but my hormones are surging, I am raging; I can feel my blood pressure rise and I’m not even connected to a cuff.


Today, at preschool pick-up, my daughter climbed into the car and as usual the first words out of her mouth were, “Mommy, where are we going today?”  And, of course, her teacher was helping her in, so I had to pretend we were going somewhere. 

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Culture and Excrement - September 11, 2012

I recently saw a picture of a Japanese woman holding an empty juice bottle out, so her young son could pee in it, while they were out in public.  The picture was bunched together with several others, all involving parents who should be tracked by CPS: a dad pretending his kid is doing a keg stand, a baby sleeping with a penis drawn on the side of it’s face, a toddler wrapped in a boa constrictor and a preschooler with a butterfly, tramp stamp (temporary, I hope).  The kind of pictures you feel guilty for laughing at.  They’re posted for their shock factor and they are all absurd, but it’s hard to look away.

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Versatile Blogger Award - September 10, 2012

I almost missed my nomination for Versatile Blogger by Nikki over at Dysfunctional Dose because my Contact Page comments were going to my husband’s email.  He’s my unpaid Web Developer and Production Assistant, so I guess I can’t really complain, but he’s slacking on attention to detail.


Thank you, Nikki, for the nomination!  Peer awards are the best.  Much better, than from someone who merely judges.

Versatile Blogger Award

I commend Nikki for even writing a blog.  She had three babies before the age of 24.  At 24, I was backpacking throughout Europe and drinking wine, wine and more wine.  I was too immature and self-centered to even babysit, let alone carry, deliver and care for a child. 

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The Three-Legged Man - September 7, 2012

Once in a while a fellow blogger posts something on Twitter or Facebook that is thought provoking and inspires us to reflect on past experience.  In my case, it was the hilarious Nucking Futs Mama and it was a picture of an elephant with the caption, “Mommy, why does the elephant have 2 trunks?”  The private parts were censored to imply that the second trunk is a magnum-sized co- err…penis, to be more politically correct.  This is a mommy site, after all.


I, of course, now have Nutrigrain bar and coffee caught in my keyboard from bursting out into laughter; the kind of guffaw where everything in your mouth splatters everywhere because you’re caught off guard or what I like to call The Humor Heimlich. 

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Big Girls Don’t Cry - September 6, 2012

Is there a cap on the number of tears that can fall from my toddler’s eyes on a given day?  Where is all of this water coming from anyway?  She certainly doesn’t drink this much.


This week on her preschool’s activity schedule: ALWAYS cry over spilt milk.  I don’t know if this is a phase or she’s picking up bad habits from her peers, but my daughter has cried more in the past two weeks, than in the past 4 years.  At this rate, it may be beneficial to purchase stock in Kleenex.


If her friend decides she doesn’t want to play with her, she cries. 

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Dumb, Dumb, Dumb, Duuuummb - September 5, 2012

Ever walk around your house, frantic, looking for your car keys and then realize they were in your pocket the whole time?  Ever search every inch of your car for your sunglasses and then realize they were on top of your head the whole time?  Since I became a mommy, this is a routine occurrence.  Only I’m not looking for my car keys or my sunglasses, I’m looking for my kid.


The other day at the park, during my weekly mommy-daughter playdate with my girlfriends, I was busy chatting away, when I realized that I couldn’t see my daughter.  Rather than throw out words of panic prematurely, I scanned the play structure and surrounding areas quickly. 

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I Am Mortal - September 4, 2012

Fatigue was the only symptom that plagued me.  The kind of fatigue where moving a toe felt like lifting a truck.  It was reminiscent of early pregnancy, when you’re building a life support system.  When I say I’m exhausted now, I most often recant because I know how bad real fatigue feels.


Several months ago, I had the shingles.  Until then, I thought it was a virus that only struck the elderly.  At first, I thought the bumps were strange bug bites and wondered where I had ventured and what creature may have greeted me with its teeth.


I went to a weekend urgent care physician, and she informed me I needed to wait it out and that I may experience some pain at the site. 

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Busted! - August 31, 2012

There’s a local, hotel bar that my single girlfriends frequent.  The kind that all of the wealthy investment bankers, venture capitalists and lawyers go to unwind after work.  Not my cup of tea, but once in a blue moon I’ll tag along just to spend time with my girlfriends.  Okay that, make fun of the men that go there and pretend my life is more interesting than mommyland for a moment.


A six figure salary (and then some), a high “series” car and a “black” credit card with a side of arrogant and self-centered all seem to be prerequisites to get served there. 

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Pedophile Paranoia - August 30, 2012

A dog is a pedophile’s best prop.  That sweet old man with the cute puppy at the park might be taking mental Polaroids of your little one.  When my daughter was a baby, I would never change her diaper at the park.  Now that she’s a preschooler, I would never slip her out of a dirty or wet shirt or shorts, no matter how sly I think I’m being.  I’m SUPER paranoid of pedophiles.


I don’t have a minivan or an SUV, so I can’t change her in the car.  I either go into the public restroom or carry a bunch of towels in the trunk to cover her car seat. 

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