Motherhood Uncensored

Of Minds and Music

*Happy NoMoNaBloPoMo! Enjoy The Blog Exchange today! Oh, and Fenicle is the winner of my survey giveaway. Thanks to everyone who took it!

While I hold a couple of degrees in music, I tend to stick to crocs, poop, and 'roids here on this blog. I'm no certified bad shoe expert (and not really a music one either), but long days and nights of chasing down energetic kids makes me less interested in pontificating about the quality of children's music out there today and more about the state of their potentially dangerous ugly footwear.

Plus, there are fine people out there that have plenty of opinions about children's music that you should probably listen to.

It's not necessarily because I don't care about music my kids listen to. It's because I think music is extremely personal and much of it really depends on your own preference.

Granted, like food, there's definitely well crafted, exquisitely delivered music. And then there's some real crap out there. But who am I to say that your McDonald's hamburger is gross and disgusting? If it satisfies you and makes you happy, then more power to you.

Keep in mind that I'm a music therapist. My job was never to espouse the great aesthetics of a musical piece but more so about finding music that reached, touched, and moved people. And for some people that's Mozart and for others, it's Guns n' Roses.

And in my opinion, kid's music is really no different.

I've heard the argument that "kid's music" is all marketing, because really, kids will listen to almost anything and like it. In my own experience, I tend to agree. The appeal of these new artists that's appealing to both parents and kids is because for the most part, if you like it, there's a good chance your kids will too.

That's not rocket science. Just plain old parenting research.

A couple out in Seattle have created a new CD/DVD combo that my daughter and I have been listening to for the past few weeks. I admit to not be a fan of "no-story-line" DVDs (ala Baby Einstein) but as you might have guessed, both my kids were mesmerized. It's well done and while I probably wouldn't put it on for my daughter, it definitely keeps my 10-month-old occupied and appropriately entertained. Plus, I get a kick out of watching the kids lip sync to "Brass in Pocket."   

But the music, which is what I'm most concerned with, is brilliant for several reasons, and not just because the singer, Stephanie Schneiderman, has a fantastic voice. At first listen, you might think it a bit one dimensional, however, keep in mind that it's a soundtrack for the DVD, so the songs roll along based on that. But I love it most because the songs are all ones we parents know and love. So, it gets us singing along and enjoying ourselves and before long, our kids are singing "Three Little Birds" with us in the car.

To me, that's the musical experience I want for my kids. To love it. To bask in it. And to not be limited by some huge purple dinosaur that just sings three-chord songs in some weird key.

So, if you play the music you like (perhaps laying off the Fifty Cent and Korn until they're a bit older), you're doing a few positive things, like exposing them to variety. You're giving them choices so that they can create their own palate or tastes. And while I do suggest you step out of your own comfort zone and include world musics, classical music, and heck even some country *gulp,* the key is to enjoy it with them.

Music is a shared experience that can bring people and families together. And the great part is that you don't have to do anything extra to make that happen. Just sharing the music you love with your kids.

--

(The parents who own and operate That Baby DVD, one of whom I'll be speaking with live on Wednesday, are offering a 20% off discount on any purchase from their site with the code "PBN").

*There's a really fantastic blog blast going on today. You can win a really awesome gift for yourself or someone else, particularly helpful if your husband, like mine, seems to think you're a 67-year-old woman with no taste).

Heartbreaking.

I'm not sure there's anything as equally devastating to a three-year-old than the first loss of a balloon, in this case, her prized purple Whole Foods balloon to the sunny Atlanta skies.

Note to self: Just don't tell her that the birds are thankful for her lovely gift. It'll just piss her off more.

 

Irrelevant.

No one becomes a mother for the recognition. I can think of about 159,231 jobs that would get me recognition without the broken butt, jello stomach, and on many days, utter frustration.

There's no "thanks for being a great mom to your kids" cards and no extra vacation days for a job well done.

People acknowledge your cute kids or little terrors, depending on which candy store or airplane you're in. They admire your stroller or sling, not necessarily the great taste that you had for picking it. And all this only occurs if people actually feel safe enough to come up to you because you know, you're a mom.

On my low days, when I'm caught on the merry-go-round that is the routine of my existence and my daughter begs and pleads for her "great daddy," I wonder about my relevance in this world as a mother.

It's a broken record in my head: It will go on without me. Someone can feed my son a bottle. Someone can play dress-up with my daughter. Someone can clean my house (oh God won't they clean my house!).

And chances are, they might just do a better job than me. 

But in our blogs, we share these stories about our lives that to many might seem incredibly mundane, but to us, they are who we are and what we do. We commiserate at first poops in the tub, muffin tops, and hemmorhoids.

We reach out to each other when we need it most.

And we take what we think might be totally irrelevant about our lives, and make it relevant to someone else. Because while someone can feed my son a bottle, no one other than me can describe the feeling I have at 2am when I'm rubbing is round head and singing softly to him as he nurses back to sleep.

I may not be the best at doing it, but I'm the only one who can tell that story. And to him, I'm the best baby soother out there.

Sometimes that's what matters most.   

But suddenly, mothers are a hot commodity. It's not just the bazillion celebrities making the baby-mama thing incredibly hip, but it's the realization by marketers that moms hold the power of buying.

Surprise! We are relevant!

However, I wonder if those people (not all, just some) that are banging down our doors are the ones who pass us on the street and roll their eyes when our child throws a fit. Maybe they could be the ones who ask to be moved away from the mother and her children at the restaurant.

Our presence, to them, is irrelevant.

But damned if they think our buying power as a community isn't relevant. These stories of mothering that we share daily are suddenly totally relevant to them, or so they pretend.

"We love your stories of poop would you like to try some free diapers?" [please please please because when you talk about them people buy them because mothers are a fucking tight knit community and our clients need you and your snotty nosed kids].

It's clear to me now that in this endeavor of raising children that we share, we're going to change the world. On many days, it does seem like no one cares. When our pictures are taken down and our videos are banned it sends the message that perhaps our presence is insignificant.

That perhaps my presence is insignificant.

But no matter how many times our kids reject us during the day, or that we're relegated to wiping up piss off the floor, we must believe within ourselves that our work is valuable. Regardless of how many PR flacks email you about their free diapers or your blog friends reassure you that you're doing an amazing job, you alone must believe it's true.

It's our legacy. It's our kids' legacy.

Mothers are relevant.

We are relevant.

For Deb and all my fellow moms out there who are feeling irrelevant today.

I Knew I Should Have Shown My Sexy Ass in a G-String

*Edited: Apparently the videos I linked are now deemed inappropriate, however, can still be viewed if you login and give your birthdate. That is not the case with our video which was banned. I'd search for more videos, but I can't stand looking at any more asses (no pun intended).

So, apparently YouTube didn't like our breastfeeding montage. My only guess is that it did not have enough ass in it.

Boobs are very 2003. That means Breastfeeding Boobs have got to be circa 1922.

But asses? C'mon. Everyone loves an ass!

How about this sexy mama?

Mmmm Booty!

Love some ass crack!

The truth is, I'm not a prude. I'm not going to flag any of these as inappropriate. That's not the intention of the League of Maternal Justice Boob Rally. And I personally don't mind a bit of ass shaking.

But can we say hypocritical? (Can the folks at YouTube even spell that word?).

We, like many of you (we hope), are sick and tired of these companies ignoring the law, ignoring health officials, and ignoring us. If you've got Terms of Use that say no sexually explicit images, then police your own damn site. And write a caveat that says "images with breastfeeding babies when deemed appropriate are allowable."

How hard is that?

So, enough already, YouTube. Why not step out of the sexist, discriminatory box that Facebook and MySpace are co-habitating and say "breastfeeding is not obscene?"

And next time, we'll be sure to put more ass in the video for you.

If you'd like to create a Message to YouTube, and take up our cause, please visit the site. We need your help (asses not required).

**And just in case they are trying to catch us on a technicality (song copyright), we'll be resubmitting the video in the next few days with new music even though "inappropriate content and nature" doesn't sound like "copyright violation" to me. Sounds more like "we see boobies" to quote a smart man. I'll keep you posted.

It's a Mall World After All

I could write an entire post about the current state of preschool girls' clothing, with velour tracksuits featuring leopard fur collars designed by Carmela Soprano at The Children's Place and the weirdest series of patterns at Gymboree that I think were designed by "House of DeVil and Gabor."

Or I could tell you about the pushiest shoe saleswoman I have ever encountered ever at Dillards who followed me around her closet sized shoe department asking me if I wanted to try on random pairs of shoes like I was at Jimmy Choo or something.

Generally speaking, I pick my own shoes, thank you very much.

But really, I want to tell you about the woman getting her teeth whitened at a kiosk right in the middle of the mall.

My daughter and I made our way past the typical airbrush licensed plates and "bad-photo-on-various-household-items" stands. We handedly avoided the hand lotion and jewelry cleaning terrorists with their "Hey lady, your hands look really dry" or my favorite "Your jewelry is soooo dirty," which is sort of funny because I'm not wearing any jewelry.

We bypassed the iPod accessory guy because when he asked if I had an iPod I just said "No." See, there IS a reason why I don't have an iPod.

I thought we had made it through the kiosk gauntlet until we encountered a young-17-something dressed entirely in an outfit from 5-7-9 who was snapping a hot flat iron at people as they walked by. "Your hair is pretty frizzy, would you like me to straighten it for you?" Imagine how many takers she had on that line. I mean, I barely let my own hair stylist near me with a hot flat iron, let alone some junior in high school at a mall. Isn't that a liability or something?

But just when I thought I had seen it all, there she was. A woman, eyes closed, lying in a dental chair with a mouthguard in, blue light shining on her, and two "doctors" (as my daughter called them thanks to the fancy white coats) scurrying around getting other people set up. Teeth whitening? In the mall?

Eh. I can barely eat comfortably at the food court let alone have someone whiten my teeth in the middle of the freaking mall. Where exactly do you rinse and spit?

I still haven't figured out the appeal to all of this, but I can say that if I ever need a quick cheap makeover, I know exactly where to go. All they need to add is a SmaLand. Oh, and a really good waxer. I mean, what's white teeth when you've got hairy eyebrows and inner thighs?

In the Middle of the Night

Sometimes I scream back at him. It's all I can do with the every three hour wakings thanks to more teeth and who knows what else where I only end up getting bitten and feeling frustrated.

I worry about waking up his sister. But most of the times, I don't.

And I just scream. It feels good to just let it out.

I tell him to lay down. I tell him to go to sleep.

"It's SLEEPY TIME!" I say, laying him down in his bed. Like that will induce sleep.

I only wish.

He just screams louder. And harder.

I pick him up and hold him tightly. "STOP SCREAMING" I scream. I try to put him in my bed but he wants to play. I try to put him in the playpen in my room and he wants to scream.

And by then we're both wide awake, standing in the dark, feeling terrible.

Because Sex Toys Always Make Great Holiday Gifts

I mean, honestly. Do you really need another sweater? Yeah. I didn't think so. Check out the Mominatrix's fantastic Holiday Gift Guide (you know, with gifts that keep on giving and giving and giving).

Feeling generous? Post a button code!

(You can find the code on the bottom right of the guide)

And in case you're wondering about the Mominatrix shirts, I was wearing one at Whole Foods the other day and someone googled me, found the site, and ordered. She mentioned how she saw it on some girl at Whole Foods that afternoon (some girl just so happened to be me!!).

So, that's just how cute they are, people. Plus you get free condoms too!

If you're looking for presents that don't vibrate or give you orgasms (although I will say this bag ALMOST made me), then of course, check out this guide.

More gift guides (that will keep you crazy shoppers out of the stores today!):

• Parent Bloggers Holiday Must-Haves (blogger-approved, of course)
• Chris's Handy Holiday Guide
• Eco Child's Play
• The Rookie Moms
• The Cool Mom Picks Safer Toy Guide
• And don't miss my favorite jewelry shop's huge sale today! Plus, you get an extra 15% off with a code you can find at Cool Mom Picks. Check under "Here's Something Cool.

More Proof That I Am Indeed Chopped Liver

"I'm thankful for my GREAAAAAAAAAT Daddy!"

[Oh. And we had our first steps today. I'm really in deep shit now].

Living on a Prayer

I cannot tell you how many people (no, not you heathen blog readers) have told me to pray about the decision to move to Little Rock.

Maybe it's a Southern thing? Who knows. But it's one thing to tell someone who's strongly religious to pray, but a fairly cynical critic of organized religion? Probably not the best move.

I know they have good intentions, but honestly, I'm wondering exactly what praying about it would do. I mean, in many cases, "to pray" about something could be translated (for us secular leaning folks) as "to think" or "to mull." And then I have to ask, do you not think I have thought or mulled over the decision enough that I must pray?

And for what would I be praying for -- a sign? writing on the wall? a tex message on my phone?

To be honest, I'm someone who totally believes in signs and open/closing doors. I also believe in consulting a neutral party and trusting your gut.

Perhaps a religious person might see all those things as God speaking to them. And I can respect that. But it's terribly annoying when people try to put that on you. That in your hour of confusion, it would be helpful to do what you've already done, just directed at some "being."

And if that's not enough, they've been offering their "prayers" for me as well. I guess it's about the same as someone saying "I'm thinking about you" or "My thoughts are with you," neither of which I have yet to fully understand. I'm not quite sure what you thinking of me will actually do. And I can guarantee that I've already got more than enough thoughts to go around.

But the prayer suggestions and offerings are way less annoying to me than when people use praying as an excuse for indecision. It's one thing to pray about which college you should go to, but when people tell me they have to pray about which purse to buy, I get a little suspicious.

I mean, just think about it and pick. Or don't buy it. But are you really going to take the time to pray about a purse? And doesn't God have more important things, you know, like world peace and starving children, to worry about than which stupid purse you should carry?

I wonder then with all this praying if people end up not being able to decide for themselves. That instead of seeking out answers to their questions, they wait for signs and signals that could be interpreted 14,000 different ways.

Of course, there are waaaay more terrible and awful things people could be doing or offering me than prayers. 

So, lest I come across as totally ungrateful, I am thankful for your prayers. But if I may, I'd much prefer some cookies, a card, or hell, a Coach bag than your thoughts or your prayers. Or at least pray for me to get a Coach bag. Seems like these prayers are just the cheap way out of what is really a great opportunity for a damn good present.   

INOGOTOLILRO

*New twisted updates to this situation below.

I have officially talked myself out of moving to Little Rock. It certainly helped that the living options were "deplorable" as my husband put it. Granted, my husband thinks an empty cup sitting on my nightstand for longer than one day is "deplorable," but still, I trust him on this one.

Plus, I don't really want to go.

Our options included furnished off-base housing which, with two large dogs, it's pretty rough. The on-base furnished housing available to us is just as small and about the same amount of money.

So, for now, I'm staying here and he'll come home on the weekends.

We survived "Week One: Project Let's Hope Kristen Doesn't Go Nuts Alone With Two Kids." Heck, I got out of the house twice! Sure, it wasn't until Thursday, but at least I got out.

Oh, and the cute guy at the Post Office smiled at me. Which was soooo great until I realized it was because I had a HUGE piece of food in my teeth.

And my daughter doesn't have all the Noggin theme songs memorized, although that's mainly because "Lazytown" really freaks me the fuck out, so I refuse to let her watch that one.

Amidst what was a crazy (but extremely productive, no?) work week, I played "Princess Hula-Girl Babysitter" and "Princess Strawberry Shortcake Cooking Show."

Yes, we watched our fair share of "Max and Boobies" (as I like to call it). But my daughter is slowly learning the words to the Beastie Boys' "Intergalactic" which she fondly calls "The Robot Song" with words like "Intergalactic Ambatary, Ambatary Intergalactic."

Pretty damn good parenting, if I do say so myself. I mean what three-year-old knows how to say "Intergalactic" huh?

And I am in search of a nanny. The money we'll save with me not moving there can be spent on some much needed help. Nothing major, just a few hours a few times a week might just allow me to get dressed before 4pm and get a shower more than twice a week.

Of course, since Atlanta is running out of water, I may be forced to shower less anyway. How cool would that be?? -- "Mom Singlehandedly Saves Atlanta Water Supply By Just Doing What She Does Everyday Which is Not Showering."

But honestly, my only real concern is what this is going to do to my marriage. It's already been like of those roller coaster rides that's really fun for about the first thirty seconds and then when all the crazy twists and turns come you just want to get the fuck off or vomit or both until you actually get off and realize that it wasn't really that bad and by holding on to each other, you survived and might actually like to do it again.

The truth is, however, that he calls to talk to the kids. And then I don't hear from him again for the rest of the night. And then when he comes home, he lays in bed, or vacuums the steps, or plays "The Best Daddy in the Whole Wide World Mommy You Suck Go Away Because Daddy Rocks."

I want to tell him about all the things that were going on with me. Not with the kids. Just with me.

But we will manage. I will manage. And considering my no-guilt policy (which includes not thinking about the fact that I took Q out of her potential preschool), I'm feeling pretty damn good.

Or maybe it's that I have officially returned to almost all my pre-pregnancy clothes.

And, thanks to a slowly dwindling milk supply, my pre-pubescent bras.

Eh. You can't win them all.

*Okay. So... apparently after the huz's disgust, the housing office came up with a 3br 1.5 bathroom stand alone furnished house on base this morning. We're taking it. So I am going. But not until after Christmas through April. Can this get ANYMORE ANNOYING?! UGH!

10 Months

At least he has good taste in purses. [Outfit courtesy of big sister].

RIP The Mom Trap: Or "Yay, One Less Blog to Fill Up Your Feed Reader!"

Apparently I'm reeaaaaaaaaaallly out of it because I had not realized that the Clubmom Blog Program (and really, everything else about Clubmom) was being laid to rest. Leave it to my savvy commenters to let me know!

It's true that The Mom Trap has been what I consider "Motherhood Uncensored Lite." It has been a place for me to blather away about whatever I want -- all PG rated of course. I'm thankful to have had the chance to use a blog as a diary. Motherhood Uncensored contains my uncensored thoughts, strung together in clean essays (almost a column). The Mom Trap has been a place for me to ask questions, share silly thoughts, and just be -- with mostly no judgment and a quiet crowd of friends and fellow bloggers who politely share what they think.

I won't be continuing The Mom Trap. I'll be happy to not have to check another email address that's for sure! But truly, I'm fortunate to have other thriving opportunities that can certainly use my time and attention. But I will be moving the archives over to Motherhood Uncensored.

And you can always find me there, as well as at Cool Mom Picks and Parent Bloggers Network (and various other places that you can find here). I'm ever appreciative of your readership and your thoughtful comments.

I hope you'll continue to join me on my adventures. Yes, it's definitely R-rated. But it's still just as fun.

I promise. 

Boobies Aren't Meant to Be Shared

"Mommy, remember when I was a little baby and I wore my ballet outfit everyday and THOSE BOOBIES WERE ALLLLLLLLL MINE?"

This is Where those Electric Shock Boxers Would Come in Handy

Apparently my husband, recently returned for a weekend at home from his long week of study groups, gym workouts, and quiet dorm room nights, is so completely exhausted that he's resting in bed at 5pm on a Friday.

But since my daughter is sitting in the bed with him, then it's supposed to be cool.

You know. Because I haven't just spent the whole week alone with two kids, one sick, and one not sleeping.

That apparently is not exhausting at all.

Defiance.

I wasn't ready for it.

I called for her to come back and apologize. She just kept walking -- pretending that she couldn't hear me calling her name.

I chased after her. Shocked.

She sat in the corner for awhile and then I came to comfort her. Letting her cry has never done anything but make things worse. It's been like that since she was a little baby. She escalates into a huge fit of rage and cannot regulate herself.

She was tired. So was I.

I held her like I always do and asked her why she was upset. She never knows, but she usually apologizes for making a bad choice, my tight grasp reassuring her and calming her down almost instantly.

But not that night. She adamantly refused.

She asked for daddy. She asked to be left alone. She asked for "a breath."

But she would not apologize.

I've spent over three years being everything to this little someone. Her comforter, her protector, and the one she always turns to.

My mind flashed through all those times where I wanted a break from those roles. Where I wanted my husband to take her so I didn't have to hold, rock, pat, and nurse her.

It was so hard. I was so tired.

But I was wanted. I was needed.   

I wasn't ready for her rejection. And I'm not ready for her to grow up just yet. I only wish I had realized this a little sooner. Maybe then this wouldn't have stung so badly. 

Drudgery and Whine

So, here's the thing. That Little Rock move might not actually happen because apparently my husband doesn't like the officer housing. "Deplorable" was the word he used.

That's pretty bad.

And we have pets, so no Temporary Living Facility (TLF) which is brand new and gorgeous. And the furnished housing -- 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, family of four? Eh. I'd rather stay here.

In Atlanta.

So my search for a babysitter is on. I'm trying not to think about that I cancelled Q's preschool. Ugh.

Guilt. Ugh.

Doesn't help that I've been working my BUTT off on this thing (Isn't it lovely? C'mon. Isn't it?). That means bad parent. Bad neglective parent who really needs a babysitter or to have put her daughter in preschool.

So, that's where I am. This is where I am. HERE. And feeling a little overwhelmed.

Trying to do Thanksgiving crafts and buy Christmas gifts and do things with the kids and try TRY to get out of the house which I have learned is nearly impossible with a 2-nap per day child. I mean, you go out when? For lunch? Yeah. That doesn't work so well. 

So I'm Weepy. Tired. Probably PMSing.

And I can't figure out what to feed my son for breakfast that is finger food. Apparently he's "over" baby food.

Any ideas?   

Usually Books Put Me Right to Sleep (Like I Need Any Help With That)

My excuse for not having read any fiction for the last few years (I know TERRIBLE) is that it puts me right to sleep. And it's certainly not because it's boring. It's because the second I sit in bed and grab a book, I fall right asleep.

It's uncanny really.

So, unless I keep a book in the bathroom (heh), it's never getting read -- which makes me a bit sad that it has come to that for me. I love books and I love reading. It just seems that reading has been one of the things motherhood has ruined for me.

Even when I do get the hankering for a good fiction that is not heavy like a Bronte' sister book (sorry, I need something easy, light, and fluffy), I have no idea what's out there. Do you pick a book because its cover is really cute? I think not.

So, when I was asked to check out Dangerous Admissions, I was hesitant. Because that would mean I would actually have to read. Something. Other than a blog.

The first adult fiction by author Jane O' Connor (known for her Fancy Nancy books), Dangerous Admissions addresses the issues of private education -- but the good ones. Not like school lunches and all that crap, but what parents will do to get their kids into a private academy.

Bribery? Payoffs? A dead Director of Admissions? You name it.

And it was terribly intriguing. And not that difficult to read. In fact, I didn't fall asleep once. I found myself relating to the the protagonist -- a harried single-mom Rannie, although most of the other characters were pretty stereotypical. And while some of the twists and turns were a bit predictable (okay, I figured some out before I even got there, but I'm smart like that...)

And my favorite part. The competi-mommies. I love me some competimommies.

Now, like another blogger, I found her writing style extremely refined and approachable. Something that doesn't seem to fit hugely well with mystery. I would love to read something else from her, but perhaps not mystery next time.

So, my reco is buy this book. Stash it in your nightstand. And treat yourself to a little escapism.

For more reviews, click here. And make sure to listen to my podcast tonight (or subscribe via iTunes). I've got the Daring Book for Girls authors on! (PS. The book is on sale for $14.97 -- snatch one up!)

Leave a comment here to be entered to win a copy of Dangerous Admissions!

Oh Those Ingenious Southerners!

Even though I've lived in the South for almost five years on and off, it still holds many mysteries that I have yet to solve. For one, who decided it was okay to deep fry a pickle? Also, what exactly does "might could" mean? And what is with this obsession with bows?

Yes. Hair bows.

Now I know that it's not just the South that has a penchant for larger than the child's actual head hair bows. Sort of like Midwestern hair, there is certainly a large conglomerate of bow lovers out where the sun don't shine for but a few months out of the year. Maybe that's why they are wearing bows -- to celebrate not having to wear a skull cap and boots.

But in my own personal experience, having lived in both the Midwest and the South, the Southern folks don't fuck around when it comes to bows (yes, that's a compliment South. Take it while you can) because Dag-nabbit, the instant that baby comes out, they slap a bow right on her head.

Or technially, glue. 

Or some weird adhesive that is "long lasting" but then comes right off. Or, better, Karo Syrup. No wait. Toothpaste.

And KY Jelly. (I swear I'm not just making that one up, JULIE).

Why I ask? Why the baldy bow?

Is it not clear from the miles of taffetta and chiffon on the one month old baby that she is not a girl? Do her triple lacy socks not indicate to anyone with eyeballs that she is indeed of the female persuasion? Isn't the customary one-day old ear piercing enough? (Thanks TNG). Have you no better use for your KY Jelly people of the South? I beseech you!

But alas, as the good Yankee who is trying to embrace my new surroundings (hellooo, new blog duds people), I will embrace this "tradition" whole heartedly. 

My baldie *ahem* needed a little sprucing up anyway. 

All Alone Again

The huz has officially started training in Little Rock and so it's back to me and the kids for at least this week. We're hoping he can make it home this coming weekend.

With a house barely unpacked (does that ever actually happen when you have a house, or do you always have boxes?), and the prospect of having to pack stuff again so we can move out there with him, I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Put it this way, I've been drinking.

Pepsi.

It seems like that's almost worse than a beer. I never really drink soda. But with my husband home, I was able to sleep in a little (read: until 7:30am). But now, we're all up at the butt crack of dawn.

I've tried to convince my daughter that she can't wake up until the sun is up.

Have you tried to convince a three-year-old of anything lately? OY.

So, it's dark out, we're all awake, and I get the feeling where I don't know where to begin. Days seem like big long circles. Toy comes out. Toys are played with. Toys are put away. Toys come out....

You get the picture.

I've been feeling tired but somewhat renewed. Maybe it's because I've done some cleaning out. Or that I can wear more of my old clothes again.

Who knows. But something is better.

I'm hoping to explore the city a bit before we leave for awhile. The air is crisp. The adventures are here.

I just need to get off my butt and go tackle them.

--

My Clubmom friends Sheri and Tracey are part of a fantastic photo contest called Mama Focus. Please enter! It's free -- and you can win a camera.  

We've Come Quite a Long Way Since Pac-Man

And you didn't think I liked the South. Come see my new blog and about page redesign by Tool of the Matriarchy. Mmmmmm Waffles.

For all my twos of years as a blogger, if there's anything I've learned is that people never cease to surprise me. Of course, there are the obvious hot button issues, like crying-it-out and leashes, that bring out the parenting nazis. But then I'll write about something like Crocs or DVD Players in cars, which quite personally didn't seem like anything hugely controversial, but yet had everyone up in arms.

So, admittedly, I'm curious to see how folks respond to my three-year-old daughter's recent introduction to the world of video gaming.

That's right. Video games for 3-year-olds.

As a rule, I'm extremely low tech. I don't own an iPod (although this thing might force me to buy one), I had a palm pilot for all of three minutes until I ran screaming back to my trusty scratch pad date book, and I scoff at the kiddie laptops.

Scoff.

But then this came in the mail, and I decided to give it a try. Clearly my block building and lego creating daughter would turn her nose right down at a tiny pink game with cute little pink princesses that she gets to dress up.

Ha. Haha.

C'mon. Of course she loves it. Looooooves it. The dressing up. The drawing. The coloring. The memory matching games. The piano. The instruments. Did I mention the dressing up?

I even had to ask my husband how long a child should be playing such things. Seriously. Her little paws wrapped around a tiny stylus dressing up some animated character in dresses and flip flops for 30 minutes straight isn't exactly what I had in mind.

But hell if it doesn't save me from having to be Cinderella the Exploring Princess on a thrice-daily basis. And it certainly saves a lot on drawing paper. 

See. I'm green!

I can definitely see where it might get out of hand, or extremely boring if she was a little older, but for now, she's in love. Luv. Lurve. Whatever you want to call it.

And I don't really mind it.

Now I don't foresee this taking the place of all the games, art, dressing up, and everything else we do on a daily basis. But for long waits, car rides, and plane trips, it makes sense. And quite frankly, I'm at a point where I think it's not so bad to embrace technology, even though I'm still trying to figure out how a fax machine actually works. 

Or maybe it's because I like to listen to my daughter play and sing songs like "I'm a Princess, Yes I Am" to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" with her little pink stick. 

So it just goes to show you that you can never say never. Hell, the next thing you know, I'll be wearing bright orange crocs, walking my son on a leash, and sporting a diva cup.

You know, with flying pigs circling above me.

Is your tot a gamer yet? Ever? Never?

Is Parenting Twins Harder or Just Different Than Parenting Two Kids?*

Humor me.

*No, I'm not pregnant with twins.

I Suppose If I Had to Be a Princess

At least I'm a verrrry prepared one

With a cute and handy accomplice.

Sex for One

Is an orgasm better than a full night's sleep? You decide.

And please please please join our fellow bloggers in posting about the toy recalls today! Even a plush Curious George isn't safe anymore.

I've listed all the toys my kids are getting for Christmas. What are you buying?

But THOSE Toys are Too Expensive, So I'm Just Going to Buy Them DVDs

If I hear that ONE more time, I think I might hurl plush toys and video games. I appreciate everyone's mild concerns about the toy recalls (cripes, doesn't the Aqua Dots thing make you even a little bit annoyed?), but let's be real. Just because toys are being recalled doesn't mean there aren't really great ones out there that don't involved plush and large electronics.

Duh!

But I'm not just going to share my list of favorite shops and where I bought all my kids' toys this holiday, but I am going to tell you about a great non-profit site that's running a "Get the Lead Out This Holiday Season." Consumers Union (the publisher of Consumer Reports) is asking people to sign up to be Safe Shoppers and hand out coupons at their local stores and get the message to the managers that we are SERIOUS. NO MORE LEAD TOYS on the shelves.

If you haven't gone shopping lately, then be forewarned, there are still recalled toys on the shelves. And as one mom found out, there's only one person testing them over at the CPSC.

ONE!

So, here's what you can do. Sign up to be a shopper and then send your business elsewhere -- what about small family run businesses that have tested their toys and know that they are safe? Yes, you might have to spend a little bit more, but believe me, it's WORTH IT. And keep in mind, this year I've asked the grandparents just to give us money. And since they tend to spend WAY too much every year, I've got a bit of leeway. There are certainly some cheaper options than what I've chosen, but we don't really buy any other toys during the year.

You can also find a lot of these things over at Amazon. But I price shop and if the smaller bizzes have good prices, then I'll give them my business.

And the best part, NONE of these require batteries, so you're going to save money that way.

Drew (Christmas and Birthday)

Drew's Favorite Rattle (they did his mattress as well, shop is owned by a mom)

Toddler Trike

Hammer Balls 

Radio Flyer Classic Walker Wagon 

I-Play Super Spiral Play Tower 

Artisan One-of-a-Kind Elephant

Quinlan

Ball Track

Puppets (Handmade by Artisans in Kenya)

Puppet Theater (have yet to purchase)

Gingerbread House (handmade by two moms)

Crown and Silk Dress-Up Skirt (shop is owned by a mom)

Stocking: Book Light and The Paper Bag Princess Book, Dinosaur Puzzles, Memory Game (she did Drew's room artwork as well and is a mom!), Red Riding Hood Finger Puppets (I bought the last set here -- shop is owned by a mom)

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You can find many discount codes for these shops here. And please share your favorite picks for this holiday. If you'd like to support the Consumers Union, please write a post today. Specific details are here. You can help get the word out about the toy recalls!

And if you're looking for something specific or some ideas for the holidays, email us at Cool Mom Picks. We can give you some great suggestions!

I Saw This And I Nearly Threw Up

Seriously, people.

We've got to do something. Please participate tomorrow. We need to spread the word about this crap.

Everything She Needs to Know About the South She Learned From Shirley Temple

In my haste to celebrate Quinlan's bypassing the large princess dvd section at our local library or as she calls it "The Pwincess Collection MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!," I allowed her to bring home something that had me wishing for a few pudgy fairies and a golden spindle.

Shirley Temple.

Yes, apparently my daughter has graduated from princess pink to "child actress forced to act for 12-hour days and wear curlers" pink. I was so excited that she decided to forgo the Disney movies that I looked at the rating (PG), threw it on the counter, and then shoved it in our DVD player faster than you can say "Good Ship Lollipop."

Except it wasn't the Good Ship Lollipop.

It was the Littlest Rebel.

You know, as in the Confederates. General Lee. Slaves. Damn Yankees *swoon*. Slaves. War. Death. Treason.   

The South.

Good times, particularly when you're fending off inquisitive three-year-old questions with your Super "Damn You're a Flipping Idiot" Mom wrist bands.

"Mommy, why are those black people serving all those children cake and ice cream?"

"Mommy, why are those men [Yankees] stealing their candles?"

It's clear that the Disney Princess movies are not without their fair share of huge life issues, but as I've come to learn, they're masked in cute songs, singing animals, and beaaaauuuutimous dresses.

And while Shirley Temple can tap a mean tap dance and whistle Dixie, she's still bossing around her slave and dance partner.

I'd call him her "caretaker" but clearly the dude is not getting paid. And chances are, he didn't ask to be there. 

Oddly enough, I'm more than happy to engage her in these types of conversations, not because they're easy, or have clear cut answers, but because it's my job.

My new job!

As I graduate from ass wiper and nose blower, I become the question answerer and discussion starter. I hold a wealth of knowledge about life by the reins and become guide and explorer.

It's exciting. It's scary.

And it does make just a little bit of me wish for the princesses if only they represent a bit of innocence lost. Where everything has a happy ending.  Where everything works out in the end.

But then I realize, it's my job to help her get to that place. Her happy ending is very much in my hands. And I'm here to do my best to send her in the right direction.

Straight North about 500 miles.

(heh)

Save the Vaginas!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After 89 of the funniest comments I've read in a really long time, I couldn't just let this one pass by without giving a shout out to my fellow vaginally challenged sisters.

That is what it's called, right? Or maybe "The League of Big Vaginas?," "Big Vaginas United?," or "We the Looser Women?"

Who knew that tampons expanded in various different ways --sort of like my ass after having two children (ha), that people actually stick a cup up in their vah-hoo-hoo and then verrrrrrry carefully pull it out (and then the part that I'm still a bit dljkjkdfhjdhfduifd pth pth pth about -- they wash it out and put it back in again), and that well, I'm not the only one shooting tampons out of me like spit balls from some bratty 8 year old's straw.

So, if you're "throwing hot-dogs down a long hallway" or you've been "dropping tampons for months," then here are some depressing interesting suggestions from my readers.

[Please note that none of these techniques, products, or lunatic notions are endorsed by Motherhood Uncesored]

Cloth Pads? They're better than I expected, although avoid the bamboo terry ones -- soft, but too unstructured. They end up a wad of fluff trying to creep up inside. -Liza

[Cloth pads almost make me barf as much as the thought of my stretched vagina holding a cup full of, um, you know]

IUD? ...then i had an IUD inserted - HELL-O!? can you say FREEDOM? no periods, no products - just a little finger insertion to make sure it's all in place. -Angie in Texas

[Yeah, go talk to MGM -- the very pregnant MGM -- about her IUD]

Surgery? Yeah, I'm not sure it's worth the $4500-9000, but I appreciate the thought, Fidget.

I got the endometrium ablasion procedure done and I have not gotten a period since. You many want to look into it. -Lily

[If I can't say it, chances are I won't let anyone do it to my vagina]

The Dixie Diva Cup? The diva cup takes some getting used to, but so worth it. Sure, it might be one of the grossest things you'll ever take part in, but still worth it. -Cheryl

[Yeah. Everyone LOOOOOVES the Diva Cup. I'm still extremely skeptical. Call me crazy, or just not so much about walking around with a cup up in my whacker]

Exercises? You could put a cheerio in the toilet and practice trying to hit it with the tampon. -witchypoo

Start Kegeling like crazy. -Fairly Odd Mother

[Is this part of those Mommy Boot Camp things?]

New Tampon Brand? I gotta say: OB tampons all the way. The fact that it opens like a flower makes a huge diff. The application...uh...takes some getting used to, but it really works with my, um, "internal changes." -Citymama

I would suggest the playtex though, I used to have the same problem with tampax because they grow longer rather than wider. -Impostormom

[I will happily offer my money to any tampon that does not remind me about my not-so-taut vagina]

New Tampon Insertion Technique? I just shove mine sideways now. Lovely. -Michelle

[heh]

Ben Wa Balls? Ben Wa balls are good because you can tighten your vag muscles and use them as a sex toy because they vibrate. I love my ben wa balls! Yeah! -Krista

[Scary and yet very interesting]

Anything to add?

Moving.

Congrats to Eryn and Jill H. Email me with your address and I'll send off your photo books. And to those of you who commented, thank you. Check out Tracey's Photo Blog Picture This. It has really helped me take better pics of my kids.

Many of you that read my other blog know that I have chosen (I'm reminding myself that I do have a choice in this) to move to Little Rock with my husband while he does National Guard training. He starts 11/12 and will be there at least through February. We're hoping he can get transferred back to Dobbins AFB (in Atlanta where we live) for the last portion of the training. Otherwise, we'll be in Little Rock until April.

I've chosen to go for several reasons (again, reminding myself why):

a) He'll be home every night as opposed to being gone 3-4 days at a time.

b) He'll be home for the holidays.

c) I don't think I can manage with working and parenting alone 5 days out of the week every week (I know there are people that do this, but I don't think that mentally I can).

d) While I might be physically able to parent alone during the week, I'm not sure how that will fare with my children, mainly my daughter who would miss her father terribly.

And so, we've decided, thanks to our two gigantic dogs, that we'll need to live in furnished housing on base. But, I'm really not sure exactly how to manage this temporary move.

1) Should I leave after Thanksgiving and have him come home for that holiday, or should we all just go together this weekend *gulp* and stay there, knowing that the back and forth for the kids might be rough.

2) What should I bring? It's furnished -- but I'll need toys, my own linens, toys, computer... Anything else you might suggest I take?

3) Should I try to put my daughter in school while we're there, or just find a sitter and make a dedicated effort to get her out into some activities (like a music class, dance, etc.) so that she has the opportunity to play with other kids? This does mean that I will have to make some social efforts -- not generally my strong point since I LOVE to sit at home and work work work.

4) Would you go back to your house for the Christmas holidays? or just stay there?

5) Finally, why won't my 9.5 month old son, who's got his two top teeth FINALLY cutting, not nap? Just curious why all of a sudden he refuses to take his blessed once a day but still amazing 2.5 hour nap.

Help?!

Yeah. You and Your Father, Kid.

"Mommy. I don't want to play kick ball. Let's play titty ball."

I'm Sure I'll Be Paying For This One When She's 16

My worst beauty blunder (ala curling iron and aquanet) relived most graciously by Quinlan. What's yours?

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

*You can still enter to win a photo book all day today. Just leave me a comment with the biggest problem you have taking pics of your kids and I'll pick 2 winners at random. And then go check out my beauty blunder and share yours. It's a doozy! Happy Friday!*

Clearly I am not known for taking great pictures.

I've been working on it. And since my Canon died (may that huge cumbersome annoying camera rest in peace), I've been playing around with my snappy little Olympus ($129.99 Thank you Target). I have to say, the editing system it comes with is fantastic (easy cropping, no red eye -- it rocks).

And I figure, I've got to work on this since I can't always rely on my friend to get pictures. I must be able to get a few of my own!

Or at least ones that aren't blurry.

So, check out my interview with Susan Getgood for HP! They were kind enough to send me some really awesome photobooks, two of which I'd be happy to give to two of The Mom Trap readers today. Just leave me a comment and tell me the biggest problem you have getting good pics of your kids. I'll pick two winners at random.

And while you're at it, check out my halloween cuties. (Note my crafty efforts ala dwarf costume!). Feel free to share the link to yours!

And don't forget about this awesome Blog Blast tomorrow. If you haven't seen this book, it's FANTASTIC. It's like a complete guide to cosmetics for dummies like me. And you can win FREE MAKE-UP! WOOHOO!

There is Absolutely No Photographic Evidence That I Was Dressed Up Like Cinderella for Halloween

Terror-plotting glue makes good fake dwarf belts.

Look! It's Sneezy and Grumpy. (Adorable hat by Eco Knits!)

Seriously people. I've done better at a Ruby Tuesday on a Thursday night. This is NOT Halloween candy.

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The Blog Exchange is today -- what a great way to kick off NaBloPoMo (or what my feed reader is calling "NaYouCanAllGoBloMe").