The Walking Dead: How to Protect Your Child - November 30, 2012

The Walking Dead: How to Protect Your ChildMy daughter is my livelihood.  She is my lifeline.  Her heartbeat and mine are combined.  And, if her electrocardiogram ever flatlined, so would mine.  We are not two colored lines matched in perfect harmony.  We are one seamless line that would revive and beep from my perseverance to survive.


[Warning: Not for the faint at heart and potential The Walking Dead spoilers.]  As a mother, I watch The Walking Dead and wonder how I would keep my Babyface alive.  Would I learn how to shoot a pistol, teach her and then set her straight in front of a moving, “walker” target to test her accuracy? 

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My Little Parrot - November 29, 2012

My Little ParrotBabyface has become an unintentional tattletale overnight.  Spelling out my negative thoughts or swear words still sometimes works, but then there are those moments where I slip up.  Her memory is suddenly long and she repeats only the bad things I say.  Sure, it’s innocent, but she’s like the parrot that drives you crazy with its repetitive echo, but you are fully aware doesn’t know any better.  And, this is my child, who I love more than myself, so leaving the window open by accident isn’t an option.


As we were leaving a restaurant after lunch today, someone in a car said the word “a$$”. 

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Fear and Loathing in Suburbia - November 28, 2012

Fear and Loathing in SuburbiaOn Monday, I’m pretty sure someone slipped something into my water that Hunter S. Thompson would’ve relished.  I had a bad trip.  There was a lot of fear, loathing and “sensored” outerwear.


I woke, like any other Monday, feeling kind of manic.  The tips of my toes felt like tiny icicles, so I checked the clock to see what time it was, not wanting to get out of bed to check the thermostat, yet.  But, wait, the LCD was dead.  The moment was timeless because the power had been sucked out of my clock.  No tiny, red lines to keep me on track.

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Her Sh!t Doesn’t Stink - November 27, 2012

Her Sh!t Doesn't StinkWhen the nurse hands us our newborn and we’re first introduced to their various smells, we’re both enchanted and disgusted.  Their “baby smell” is intoxicating.  So intoxicating that after our children grow out of it, we resort to carrying other people’s babies, just to get another whiff; sometimes holding them until we reek of nostalgia.


When Babyface was a baby, I could always tell the mothers from the non-mothers, as they passed by.  Sometimes the mothers would slow down as they neared and sometimes I could even hear them take in a deep breath.  Anything just to get a fix of that baby fresh scent that so many have tried and failed to bottle in shampoos, soaps and antiperspirants.

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Black Friday, Bloody Friday - November 23, 2012

Black Friday Bloody FridayI haven’t ventured into the masses of fashion-starved people, packed into a line of 200 square-foot deals, in 14 years.  And this caged bird certainly didn’t sing, while being pushed and shoved to skim through lines and lines of sale racks, just to find one marked down gem.  I take that back.  I sang bloody murder in the same octave as nails on a chalkboard, only in my head.


Pulling out the boxing gloves to fight for my clothes to delete a few dimes or even dollars from the total charge, trying to keep the fashion heathens from wearing and tearing the skin off of my back, has regained its title of “the absurd”. 

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I Made My Daughter Cry - November 21, 2012

I Made My Daughter CryYesterday, I wrote about how much I cry because I’m a mother.  Today, I’m writing about how I made my daughter cry.  I tried to fix her up with a verbal bandage bordered in hugs and kisses after the damage was done, but I still capped off the night crying in my glass of wine.


While we were playing Zingo yesterday, Babyface said, “I’m going to make new friends and play with more than one friend at a time, Mommy.”  She was smiling ear-to-ear, like she just pooped a pound of gold (mom analogies, I know).  It was that same look she used to have when she would pee or poop and not miss the potty.

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Mommy Is A Cry Baby - November 20, 2012

Mommy is a Cry BabyBefore I had a kid, I cried from cracks or breaks in my heart.  I cried when I watched love stories like, well…Love Story and The Way We Were.  I cried even more from laughter when I watched slapstick and/or stupid comedies like Just Friends, Old School or anything written, directed and produced by Judd Apatow.  Crying occurred, but infrequently and almost always during a “cycle”.


Now, after having a kid, crying is a part of my daily routine, in times of sickness (raging hormones) and health (a decent night of sleep).  Crying occurs in times of sap (movies, shows and moments with my daughter) and sympathy (watching my daughter sad or hurt). 

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MTV Makes A Comeback Without The M - November 19, 2012

MTV Makes a Comeback Without the MDire Straits made Gen Xers and Baby Boomers want it, starting off rock classics with “I want my…I want my MTV…”  Video Killed the Radio Star forever made one hit wonder band The Buggles a part of music history, offering them the first video timeslot to grace the cable channel.  Teenagers stared for hours, barely blinking, while trying to mimic pop and rockstar fashion trends: fluorescent headbands, shoulder pads, a finger-less glove with no matching partner or stonewashed and ripped blue jeans and bandanas.   Teenagers followed dance steps; their family rooms a self-made dance floor.  Teenagers flocked to their tubes to watch debut videos like Thriller from pop icons, while hugging their records almost bursting into Beatles-fan screams.

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Imperfect and Sh!tastic Day - November 18, 2012

Imperfect sh!tastic dayI awake in the middle of the night and realize that all of the stars aren’t aligned and are shooting into each other.  I awake in the morning and realize that the clouds are grazing my house like it’s a 2012, Mayan, magnetic rod waiting to be struck by lightening.  I awake and realize that a nuclear bomb is sticking straight out from underneath my simple, mundane house, just waiting for a switch to flip.


I can’t close my eyes tight enough.   Not tight enough to block the light of reality.  Not tight enough to block my disbelief in humanity. 

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Parenting Gone Wrong In The Walking Dead

Parenting Gone Wrong in The Walking DeadA post-apocalyptic world where zombies dominated would definitely offer up a lot of major parenting questions and decisions.  What if my kid turns into a “walker”?  Do I hide them and hope there’s a cure someday?  Would I follow a maniac who calls himself The Governor, if it meant temporary safety for my kid?  If walkers chased after my kid, would I risk my life and run after her, even if a team of armed men was helping me?  Has my obsession with zombies and the show The Walking Dead gone too far?


This post contains spoilers, so please go and watch the show before you read. 

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