Hmmmmmm...

Perhaps Baby's Dora obsession has gotten out of hand. This morning I found her hugging the TV.

Blondes Have More Fun

She's absolutely adorable. No doubt about it. And she's actually incredibly smart to boot, but hides it very well. In fact, sometimes she acts downright...well...blonde.

Sister has always been easily distracted. As a temperamental toddler, I could always divert her attention whenever I sensed a meltdown coming on.

And sometimes, it still works.

Last night I promised the kids I would make them hot chocolate for breakfast this morning. Sister did not forget.

"Hey, Mom! Let's have hot chocolate this morning!" she says, her voice getting that squeaky-like quality it gets when she becomes excited.

"Great idea!" I say, mimicking her excitement.

We head to the kitchen to get started and she has a brilliant plan. "Let's have snacks with our hot chocolate!!"

"Like what?" I ask.

"Cookies!" comes the reply, increasing in excitement and pitch.

Cookies for breakfast. That is a brilliant plan.

"No!" I answer, still matching her giddiness.

"How about Candy??!!" she says, acting as though she has just stumbled upon a miracle cure for cancer.

See what I mean? Genius.

"No!" is my jubilant answer. "How about CHEERIOS?!" I ask with zeal and fervor, clapping my hands for affect.

"YEAH!" she shouts, jumping up and down like I've just handed her the keys to Toys R Us.

Sometimes it's just too easy.

Please take a moment to read about Baby Ashley.

I will admit, I often wonder what good it does me to pray. I often wonder how in the world what I say could possibly sway a sovereign God. So many times, in situations like this, the outcome is not what I want, and my disillusionment grows.

But my heart breaks. And I don't know what else to do.

So join me, and pray for this baby girl and her family. Spread the word.

Thank you, Sarah, for posting about this.

Dove ad,

This just makes me mad...

CNN did a piece on this and interviewed a professional model who claimed that everyone knows the photos on the cover of Cosmo are altered. Nobody is that "naive", and it is "harmless".

I didn't know.

Did you?

Last week, while waiting in line at the supermarket checkout, I saw a magazine cover with a picture of a young, Hollywood actress.

Blonde. Tan. Thin. Gorgeous.

Her quote on the cover was, "I'll never be perfect again."

Evidently she had plastic surgery that had gone awry.

There are so many things wrong with her statement I can't even begin to list them.

Ladies, today do something nice for someone else. Hug your children. Smile at a stranger. Don't give a second glance to the magazine covers and embrace your beauty...

Your REAL beauty.

A Scary Sight

When your toddler disappears into the kitchen and is very quiet for many minutes, be afraid.

Be very afraid.

This is what my sweet, precious Baby did to my beautiful cake, all smooth and golden brown on top.

Out of her reach? No. NOTHING is out of her reach. She knows exactly how to push a chair up to whatever surface is too high for her hot little hands.

I was taking it to a Halloween Costume Party for the kids tomorrow.

Whaddya think? Should I slap on some orange frosting and call it good? Or do I leave early for the party so I can stop off and buy some cupcakes?

Me, Me, Me

I am halfway awake, wondering why I haven't heard my alarm. I should be dead tired, because my alarm is set for 5:30 a.m., and I should be feeling something between comatose and partial paralysis, but I am feeling oddly rested. How can I feel rested before 5:30?

Because it's 6:39.

This is not good, because I have class at 8:00 a.m.

And this should leave plenty of time to get ready. But I have a quiz this morning for which I am not completely prepared and wanted an extra hour to cram before heading off to school.

6:39 is bad.

I stagger into the living room to find Brother checking football scores on the computer and talking to someone on the phone.

Startling, no?

"Who are you talking to?!" I demand. Who in God's name is calling my house at 6:30 in the morning and talking to my seven-year-old son??!!!

He continues talking and gives me the polite "one moment please" signal with his pointer finger.

"She's awake now...here she is," he says, and then hands me the phone.

I respond with a sleepy, yet obviously peeved, "hello".

It's my brother.

"Why are you calling so early?!" I ask, not even trying to be civil, waiting for my blood pressure to come down to normal.

He's hurt. "I just wanted to call and wish you a Happy Birthday before you left for school," he says, trying to not sound wounded.

Oh, yeah. Today's my birthday.

Now I feel like a heel. Like a squashed bug on the bottom of the heel.

So what do I say to that?

I think I said something like "thanks", but it's kind of a blur. I vaguely remember him handing the phone to my mom and her singing happily in my ear. The rest of the conversation is completely lost in my subconscience never to be found again.

Remind me to apologize to my brother later.

I get the coffee going and kick it into high gear. Actually it is more like sluggish, slothful, semi-high-ish gear, but I'm winding up to it.

I wanted to take a shower and try not to look like a bag lady today, on my birthday. But those plans are toast and I resort to throwing on yesterday's clothes and putting my hair up in a clip. I manage lipstick and mascara, which is admirable, in light of things and head to the kitchen to try and get half an hour of study time.

But my children have this habit...it's somewhat annoying.

They like to eat breakfast.

I literally throw Kix in a bowl, spilling them on the table and floor which suprises Sister. She knows Mommy would correct her for such behavior, so she looks at the scene with hesitancy and offers her two cents: "Uh...Mommy. You spilled some."

"Yes, Honey, I know. Don't just sit there. Grab a spoon!!!"

I sit down with my Psychology book and try to absorb the text without even a drop of coffee and Baby clamoring for Dora in the background.

Things are not looking hopeful.

At 7:32 I am yelling at Hubby to get out of bed while I find my shoes and shove books in to my bag. I pour the coffee into my Starbuck go-cup, give quick kisses to all (except Hubby...sorry, Hun) and fly out the door at 7:45.

Hubby drove the car last, so the seat isn't adjusted to fit my shorter leg span. Instead of fixing this problem while the car is stopped, I prefer to do it while driving and balancing my cup of coffee in my lap.

You know what happens then, right?

I end up with coffee in my lap.

It's a good thing I take my coffee beige. Otherwise I would be walking around campus today with brown stains on my baglady outfit.

I make it to class just as the instructor is unlocking the door. Barely on time.

Happy Birthday to me.

As I write this, things are looking up. I think I actually did really well on my quiz. My friend is taking me to lunch. She has a present for me!! And I just received an email saying my blog has been featured on BlogHop. The email was quite complimentary.

Yes, I know it's probably a standard email they send out to everyone they feature, but hey, it's my birthday, GIVE ME THIS.

Leave me a comment. Tell me Happy Birthday. Tell me I look 18. All bow down and adore me...please.

And then tomorrow we can pretend it never happened. Because that's what I like to do with birthdays.

Dora Rules

Have you ever had one of these days?

This was Baby's expression for about six of the 14 hours we put in today. This particular episode began after I (gasp!) warmed her lunch for her to eat after naptime because she was too tired and cranky to eat it before. Apparently cold macaroni is her favorite.

Lord have mercy. Bedtime could not come fast enough.

After her two hour nap, which failed to leave her refreshed and happy, she began crying and asking for "Dowa", her cute little spanish-speaking friend from Nickelodeon.

"Sorry, honey," I say. "Dora isn't on right now."

So she runs down the list of Dora's friends, thinking surely if Dora isn't on TV, perhaps Boots or Backpack is. And I have to tell her no, they aren't on either.

But my answer is not satisfactory.

She throws herself to the ground, weeping and wailing, refusing to be comforted or distracted.

So what do I do?

We hop in the van, dragging a screaming and kicking snot-nosed Baby with us, and run to the library to get a Dora video.

I scanned the shelves, reading all the Running Times on each Dora video, trying to find the longest one. 48 minutes was all they had.

48 minutes??!!! I need 96. 96 minutes of funny, sunny Dora time.

Alas, it was not to be. But at that point I didn't care. I would've taken 48 seconds and happily played it over and over.

I showed the video case to Baby, who beamed and began pointing to the characters, reaquainting herself with her long, lost friends.

And all was happy again...for 48 minutes.

And the winner is...

Kelli, with "Serendipity"!

Congratulations, Kelli!

Though Zombie Mint Chocoduck was so very tempting.

The response was so great, perhaps we'll do this again next month?

One Year Ago Today...

Today marks the one year anniversary of this blog.

Wow.

A whole year of mindless drivel.

Go here to read my very first post and wax nostalgic.

In honor of the special occasion I am holding a little contest. See, I made this new bow to put on my website, but I need a really great, creative name for it. Whoever successfully names my bow (that means I get to pick which name I like best) wins that bow for FREE...shipping and all.

Don't have a girl to bowtify? Give it as a Christmas present!

Or wear it yourself. Hey, it worked in the 80's.

So here it is:














For some reason it makes me think of brownies. I don't know why.

All I Want For Christmas

My kids have this sixth sense. When the weather turns cooler, they know Christmas is just around the corner. And so they begin compiling their lists, which will include every toy (no matter how lame) they see advertised on TV.

Yesterday we were all watching TV and happened to see a commercial for the Swiffer Sweep/Vac.

They were enthralled.

And being the thoughtful, kind children they are, they thought of me.

"Mom!" exclaims Brother. "You need one of those! It's the new way to clean!"

To which Sister replied, "Maybe you can get that for Christmas!"

One can only dream...

I love Fall. It is my favorite time of year. There are always a few things around here that signal the glorious change of season, like breaking out the cozy sweaters, baking yummy recipes with cinnamon and nutmeg and me letting the hair on my legs grow an extra half inch before finally shaving.

Whatever Happened To Supermom?

All right, all right!!!

Now Hubby is railing on me. "Why haven't you blogged? You really need to do that, you know. It doesn't have to be great, just put something down."

It doesn't?

I'll admit, I've felt a little pressure to write something witty and smart and it seems I am running out of material.

I know. Shocking.

You would think I would have an endless supply of material with three children at home all day, so why am I stumped?

Here's the thing. This blog was truly started out of desperation. The title has deep meaning. I was feeling frustrated and somewhat trapped by my life. I began writing to release those frustrations, and lo and behold if it didn't take on a life of its own. And before I knew it, I was living and breathing it. I spent the biggest chunk of my day thinking of what I would write next and being absolutely giddy when something crazy happened because I knew it would make a killer blog.

Sigh.

Sad, don't you think?

Don't get me wrong. I love blogging. I miss blogging. And I still want to do it. But there is a difference now.

I don't need to.

For me, the therapy worked. So when you see I haven't blogged for awhile, be happy for me. It means I'm not feeling overwhelmed and irritated. It means I'm taking my life in a healthy direction. It means I've spent the day feeding my mind, teaching my children and loving my husband and I'm not completely exasperated at the end.

Or it could mean I am up to my ears in laundry, dishes, homework, diapers and bows and I barely have time to pick my nose, let alone, type a friggin' blog. WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME???!!!

I mean, after all, I am Supermom.

Footnote: After giving it some thought, I worried this might have sounded very arrogant and haughty, as if I now have a life and all you bloggers out there don't. Please, don't take it that way. I love this weird, little blogging community and wouldn't dream of abandoning it. Blog on, sisters!!

My, How Things Have Changed!

I should be cleaning. The kids are resting quietly in their beds, my homework is caught up (though I could stand to be studying more) and my bow orders are waiting for a new ribbon shipment.

I should be cleaning.

But I don't want to.

I've missed my little bloggy-woggy and I want to spend some quality time with it. It needs me. It actually accused me of spending more time with other blogs, but that is certainly not the case. In fact, for all of you with blogs I haven't visited in a while, please tell your blogs I am very sorry, and I will get around to it soon. I will make it up to them somehow.

Maybe I'll take them to the circus.

Or buy them ice cream.

So, in the spirit of not cleaning when I should, I thought I'd at least post about it, and somehow that should magically make it ok.

Right?

This interesting article at www.goodhousekeeping.com caught my eye today. It's entitled "Good (Enough) Housekeeping".

Fascinating stuff.

This article actually suggests you hide your clutter from company. It even suggests a good piece of furniture you can buy for just that.

Got a sinkful of dirty dishes and a dishwasher that needs unloading? Toss them in the oven!

Now folks, I've been pulling off this kind of deception for years. This is not news to me. Heck, I can even think of a few tricks they left out. But I am happy to learn it is now socially acceptable.

Fifty years ago, Good Housekeeping was telling us to iron our socks, vacuum every day in heels and pearls and perfect the routine of the perfectly prim housewife down to a "T".

Today, we don't have to worry about being perfect.

As long as we can fool everybody into thinking we are, it's all fine and dandy.

Refreshing, isn't it?