State of Confusion

It's no secret to any woman who's been pregnant that babies steal your brain.

Yes, it's true. I don't care what Discovery Health says, with ALL THREE of my pregnancies, I've been "dumbed down". I forget things, process thoughts way more slowly, the whole nine yards.

Unfortunately, in my experience, it often takes up to a year AFTER the baby comes to regain full mental capacity. I also figure there's some sort of direct correlation between the number of children a woman has and the number of brain cells lost to "baby brain".

As crazy as baby brain makes me, though, I do know that I've not completely lost my common sense.

One of the (many) things we had to replace for Mr. Baby was his crib mattress. While we hadn't yet gotten rid of the crib itself (AmenandthankyouJesus!), the mattress was reincarnated as a bed for Princess the Wonder Dog, and, while I'm all about recycling, there's just no way that it was going back into the crib.

So I went online to one of my new favorite shopping sites, Amazon.com. Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I'm late to the party. I've had baby brain for the past nine months.

Anyway, I discovered that there are about as many different types of crib mattresses as there are babies. And while I love my children, and want the best I can afford for them, I'm pretty confident that Mr. Baby doesn't need a $299.00 crib mattress.

So off to Walmart.com for me. Now, I'm not a big fan of the Evil Empire, but sadly, for us frugal moms, it works. I found a lovely, highly rated Kolcraft brand crib mattress for a mere $36 in their "Site to Store" program. I called my local Walmart to see if they had that particular model in stock. The associate was gone for a minute to check.

WM Associate: "Yes ma'am, we have that model in stock. It's $57."

Me: "FIFTY SEVEN DOLLARS?! For that model?"

WMA: "Yes ma'am."

Me: "Uhm...it's available on the Walmart.com website for $36. That's a $21 difference!"

WMA: "Yes ma'am. I understand that some things are priced differently on the website."

I don't know if you've used the Site to Store feature of Walmart.com, but it's pretty simple. You place your order and pay for it online, and they ship it directly to the store at no additional charge. We've purchased a few things through the site, and while we've noticed the occasional minor price difference, we've never purchased anything that is marked up more than 50%.

Here are the options as my baby-affected brain worked it out:

a) I can walk into Walmart today and pay $57 plus tax for the mattress.
b) I can order the mattress through Site to Store, pay $36 plus tax, and they will ship the mattress from the warehouse (even though they have them in-stock). In 1-2 weeks, pick it up at the store.
c) I can order the mattress through Site to Store, pay $36 plus tax, plus $3.97 shipping (all STILL $17 cheaper than option a), and they will deliver it TO MY DOOR in 1 week.

Can you guess which one I chose?

I realize that we, as a society, are more into immediate gratification than thinking through things and saving money, but I'm really confused as to the price difference in this situation.

And that's not my baby brain talking!

The Early Bird

After two children, it shouldn't surprise me, and yet somehow, it does.

I don't like to do housework. I'm not a very good housekeeper. My Diva Grandma used to have a sign in her house that pretty much summed things up.

"My house is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy."

I don't like to do laundry, primarily because it seems like it NEVER FREAKING ENDS. Just when I think I've conquered Mt. Laundry, I realize that my family is still clothed, meaning there's STILL laundry to be done.

I despise doing dishes for much the same reason as laundry, but I think that hatred is more deep-seeded, going back to my childhood, as it was my job growing up. I had a tendency to rush through my job and, well, let's just say that I didn't always get ALL of the food off the dishes. My punishment, which I remember having to do only twice, was to wash ALL of the dishes in the cupboard.

All of them.

In one sitting. Or standing, as it were.

But I digress.

One of the known side effects of late pregnancy is the nesting instinct. At 36 weeks, I shouldn't be surprised by my recent burning desires to wash all of those tiny clothes and seemingly endless supply of burp cloths.

And yet, much like this pregnancy itself, it was an enormous surprise when I spent the better part of an afternoon this past weekend doing just that. I went through all of The Manimal's clothes, packing away what no longer fit him, and organizing and arranging his closet and dresser in order to make room for the array of tiny things.

And then I cleaned the powder room downstairs.

And conquered Mt. Laundry and Mt. Dishes.

And cleaned the kitchen sink.

And made brownies.

And marinated steak.

And then sat down and explained to my family that, while this behavior might please them immensely, it was, most emphatically, a temporary, 36 weeks pregnant, situation.

Paperwork

Being 33 weeks pregnant, the most often used room in my house has got to be the bathroom. Being a woman in a houseful of men, I always have to be on my guard when I go to use the facilities, though. Stumbling into the bathroom in my stupor at o-dark-thirty is likely to end up with my nether regions taking an unexpected bath if I'm not aware of my surroundings. When I found out that Baby #3 was a boy, I lamented "Oh great, I have to teach ANOTHER one to put the seat down."

Potty training is all on Diva Husband, and he's excellent at that job. My rationale was that since I have girly bits, not boy bits, I can't really give my boys the full experience of standing, aiming, and doing the deed. He had The Manimal trained in nothing flat.

Pooping is another matter entirely. The art of wiping seems to escape children. Too much toilet paper, too little toilet paper, to flush a baby wipe, to not flush a baby wipe, to use kleenex in a pinch...

I'm sure those of you with small people in your homes understand.

I have to say though, that, the former on that list hasn't really been a terrible problem for us. We're not flying through toilet paper like crazy. I haven't had to wonder if my kids are storing up for an emergency. Occasionally, when doing laundry, I've actually discovered that I may need to have a discussion with them regarding *ahem* using too few of those precious squares.

Clearly I'm lucky in this regard. My fellow blogger, Spuds, is not so lucky. Spuds is a single dad raising 6 pygmies, the youngest 4 of whom have a penchant for paper. Go check out his blog "Carrying a Cat by the Tail" and read about it!

But be warned, you might need a roll of paper to wipe the tears or whatever may issue forth from various facial orifices as you snort with laughter.

In Memoriam

I've seen this before, in various iterations. I so wish I could take credit for its creation, but I can't. It has been credited to many authors, including The London Times and comedian George Carlin. It's a classic and bears repeating, particularly in this day and age of political correctness. It reminds me a lot of my favorite Saturday Night Live skit with Seth Meyers and Amy Poehler, Weekend Update: Really?!

"Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

'Knowing when to come in out of the rain', 'Why the early bird gets the worm', 'Life isn't always fair', and 'Maybe it was my fault'.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies; don't spend more than you can earn, and reliable strategies; adults, not children, are in charge. His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place.

Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student, but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the religious organizations became businesses and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault. Common Sense finally gave up the will to live after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his spouse Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason. Common Sense is survived by his 4 stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, I Want It Now, Someone Else Is To Blame, and I'm A Victim.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone."

Common Sense: Dona Eis Requiem (Grant Him Rest)...

It's Not Whether You Win or Lose...

I'm getting old.

Lately, I'm starting more and more sentences with "When I was a kid..." or "When I was your age...". I find it happens often when discussing sports.

Now, lest you think I make a habit of discussing sports, I don't. But the value of team sports and other team co-curriculars for kids has always been, in my opinion, underestimated. Cooperation is a part of life, and the sooner one learns the importance of interdependence, the smoother things will go for them.

Competition is a part of life too, although education systems over the past couple of decades have done their best to devalue this part of life. Rather than teaching children how to win and lose gracefully while respecting the work done on both sides, schools seem more concerned with not damaging the "fragile self-esteem" of the children. While I certainly want good educators to help build my child's self-esteem, I think it's absurd to teach them that competition is bad. In any sport, any activity, any task in life, there will always be those more or less competent than you. More or less lucky than you. More or less efficient than you.

You either learn to deal with it or you don't.

Which means you either become a gracious winner AND loser or you run the risk of becoming negative, bitter or arrogant, not having learned how to do either very well at all.

Andre Dawson was a great baseball player who was recently inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. He learned as a child and throughout his career to be a gracious winner AND loser.

Being a professional baseball player for him wasn't as much about the notoriety, insane salaries or being on a World Series-bound team every year. It was about playing for the love of the game. It's reported that when Dawson's contract was up in Montreal, he wanted to play for one team and one team only. He sent a blank, signed contract to the manager of the Chicago Cubs. Dawson told them he didn't care what number showed up in the salary line, his blood ran Cubbie Blue.

If you follow professional baseball to any degree (or even if you don't, for that matter), you probably know that the Chicago Cubs aren't exactly known for being the winning team every year. Dawson didn't care. He knew that there was more to life than winning baseball games. He loved the sport and loved the Cubs. A living example of doing what you love and loving what you do.

Pretty good lesson, if you ask me.

My friend Stephanie is a lifelong, dyed-in-the-wool Chicago Cubs fan. She's learned a lot from Andre Dawson. You can read her thoughts here.

It's nice that in the craziness of self-esteem issues, steroid use and salary insanity, we have a few shining examples out there. Those who know that HOW you play the game determines how well you win or lose.

Love life, and it will love you back.

First Blood

The Diva Homestead has been invaded by a seemingly innocuous, gentle species. They're sweet-looking, cute and fuzzy.
Yes, I'm talking about the Lagomorpha Leporidae.

I prefer to call them the "wascally wabbits".

We started having problems with them last year when they discovered my hostas in the front yard. We're trying to avoid them attacking our lovely tomatoes and herbs and many assorted young trees in the back yard.

However, we're a peaceful people, and haven't resorted to anything more extreme than spraying fox urine around the plant beds.

Yesterday, Princess the Wonder Dog changed all that.

Diva Nana and I were sitting out on the patio, enjoying a break in the humidity and watching the dog run around the yard. Suddenly I heard it.

It.

Yes, it.

It was the most horrible squeaking, squealing sound I can ever remember hearing. It is burned into my eardrums for all eternity.

I immediately knew that Princess had used her wondrous powers for evil, and ran over to the fence.

She had discovered a nest of the creatures, and helped herself to the contents. One of the poor little things had become her toy and was making the noise.

I summoned Diva Husband to come to the rescue of the quickly expiring creature, and he disposed of it. Unfortunately, there was really no way to keep nature from taking her course, and pretty soon Princess had made short order of FIVE of the little bunnies.

I tried to block the aural and visual images from my mind by humming "Circle of Life" from "The Lion King".

It didn't work.

Now that she's had her "First Blood", I'm just hoping Princess the Wonder Dog doesn't go all Rambo on us.

Friday Fragments

Yes, I'm still alive. Turns out, growing a baby takes WAY more energy than I remember! Or maybe it was the week I spent in Kentucky for a conference for work. Or perhaps the fact that work is insanely busy during March and April. At any rate, I'm exhausted more often than not, and when I'm not, I'm probably working!

Sweet Son #1 has a new name. Starting today, he'll be known to the interwebz as The Tweenager. While he will always be my Sweet Son #1, I felt it time to give him a name more appropriate to his stage in life. He'll be 10 this summer, and has already begun the behavioral leap into his pre-teen years.

Speaking of The Tweenager, he has spent the past week with Diva Nana and Diva Papa. It was a huge surprise trip for him, as my folks were here for Easter, then we packed his suitcase and told him Monday morning that he was riding back with them. He's had a blast and flies back tomorrow, wrapping up his spring break with a birthday party tomorrow night and the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby on Sunday afternoon.

The Manimal has been spending his brother-less Spring Break week (who knew that preschoolers got a Spring Break?!) playing Lego Star Wars on the Wii, playing with real legos with Daddy, going to the park, torturing Princess the Wonder Dog and wreaking general havoc whenever he feels his home life is going too smoothly.

The Manimal is also fascinated with the fact that Mommy is "gonna poop out a baby". This was the conclusion he reached after I explained that the baby wasn't coming out my mouth or my belly button, and the doctor wasn't going to cut me to get it out (hopefully!). He looked at me with those big brown eyes and after a moment said "You gonna POOP dat baby out?!"

Uhm. Well. Yeah, sort of.

So that's my life in a nutshell. And how've you been? :)

It's Not Whether You Win Or Lose...

When I was a high school band director, I tried to preach to teach my kids about the importance of having class. In the years following graduation, I knew that very few of them would ever play their instruments or participate in a marching band competition again.

But they would face competition throughout life.

And class? Is a life skill a lot of adults could stand to learn.

In the ten plus years since I picked up my conductor's baton, I've had the privilege of maintaining friendships with and reconnecting with a lot of my former students, and wonder of wonders, they managed to learn the lesson. I credit their decisions more than my teaching ability, but it's always nice to see that a formerly clueless (or not so clueless) high school kid "got it".

I'm pretty sure that the goalkeeper for the USA U-17 Women's Soccer team has had at least one teacher or coach in her life who preached to taught her about class.

And it appears she "got it".


From Yahoo Sports:

"On Wednesday, the U.S. women's under-17 team defeated Haiti 9-0 in their first qualifying match for the CONCACAF U-17 Women's Championships in Costa Rica. Once the final whistle blew, Haitian goalkeeper Alexandra Coby was so overwhelmed with emotion that she dropped to the pitch, weeping. It was all just too much for her and understandably so -- losing by such a harsh margin, even to a much better team, is always difficult to take, but given that Haiti is in the midst of trying to recover from the devastating earthquake that ravaged the Caribbean nation's capital two months ago and left hundreds of thousands of people dead, there was much more saddling these girls than just a lost game.

And the U.S. team saw that. As Haiti's coach helped the crying goalkeeper to her feet, U.S. goalie Bryane Heaberlin walked the length of the pitch, gave Coby a hug and didn't let go. The rest of the U.S. team soon joined her, circling around the two goalkeepers for a long group hug that left the entire squad in tears.

Said Heaberlin to USsoccer.com:

“I saw her crying and that was pretty hard for me to see. She’s a 'keeper and we have that bond. I knew that she had probably lost people close to her, and when she goes home she might not have anywhere to go. I gave her a big hug and told her she did great. She came to compete in this tournament despite all that she’s been through and I have tremendous respect for her.”

Haiti's participation in the tournament despite all that's going on back home for them has been the talk of the competition and the team's determination and bravery hasn't been lost on their opponents. Added U.S. defender Olivia Brannon:

“It just put everything into perspective. It makes you realize what is truly important, your family, having a roof over your head, and having food on the table. We take all those things for granted. I had my mom in the stands cheering for me tonight. Some of these girls might never have that again.”

So while the match itself may have seemed like piling on, it should be pointed out that the U.S. team didn't pander to their Haitian counterparts, instead showing them the respect of playing hard the whole game before sharing their true feelings and consolations after the final whistle. And these young Haitian girls will hopefully go back knowing that they're not alone."

Photo: USsoccer.com

Senator Mickey Mouse?

Today is the Primary Election in our fair state. Even if you're not familiar with much in our fair state, you probably have heard of our former Governor. He's made more than a few media appearances in the last year or so. His wife appeared on the show "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here", when prosecutors banned his own appearance. Recent rumblings have been made that he may show up next on Donald Trump's "Celebrity Apprentice".

Our senators have been making news as well. The current lame duck Senator was appointed by the previously aforementioned Governor. HIS predecessor moved on to a different job.

Confused yet? Don't worry, residents of our fair state are just as confused. Today's election turnout is expected to be low, with perhaps 25% of voters casting their ballots.

Lest you think this is turning into a political post, let me reassure you.

I went to vote this morning and took The Manimal with me. He was unusually quiet, taking everything in. Our precinct location isn't completely new to him, as it's in our neighborhood clubhouse. I guess the "election decor" of voting booths and registration tables really threw him, though.

He wanted to know what we were doing, and I told him that I was going to vote. Then he wanted to know what "vote" meant. I told him it meant choosing something or someone.

He wanted to see what I was doing, so I showed him my ballot and ballpoint pen (we're a pretty low-tech site). Then I let him carry my ballot over to the box, where he (with surprising care) slid it into the reader.

As I was helping him with his gloves, he looked up and said, "Mommy, is this Disney World?"

Hmm...maybe the carnival of Illinois politics isn't beyond the scope of a four year-old after all!

Ten on Tuesday

I tend to procrastinate. Unfortunately, the blogosphere, whether you're a blogger or a reader, tends to encourage such behavior. With ten days before Christmas and a hundred things few things left to do, I should most definitely NOT be hanging around cyberspace.

And yet here I am.

My only consolation is that you're here too. Of course, you may be one of those people of whom I'm insanely jealous really organized types who have all of your Christmas preparation done, gifts wrapped, baking done, stockings hung...

I have to stop now before I sink into a deep depression.

Anyway, back to procrastinating...

Here are ten of my favorite timesuckers blogs (in no particular order):

1. C. Beth Blog

Beth is mom to Chickie and Zoodle, and wife to The Engineer. The kiddos are darling, Beth is a wonderful writer. Love her. She also aspires to help others love to write at One Minute Writer. One of my New Year's Resolutions is to go to OMW more than 3 times every day a few times a week next year.

2. The Glamorous Life of a Housewife

Whitney is stay-at-home-mom to Weebie and wife to Husby, the med student. She is too cute for words and loves her life as a homemaker and mom. I love reading about her life. She's just so daggone cute.

3. The Ivory Hut

A new fave of mine, I found Ivory Hut through a perennial blogging fave, The Pioneer Woman. Ivoryhut's style is much like Ree's, and I'm really enjoying getting to know her world.

4. The Pioneer Woman

What? You've never heard of The Pioneer Woman? Oh, you've been under a rock in Siberia for the last three years! Oh, okay then. You're excused.

5. Mrs. O

While I'm SO not a fan of her hubby's politics, I love Michelle Obama's fashion sense.

Mainly because I don't really have one of my own.

6. The Vegan(ish) Experiment

This is the tale of one family's quest to go macro-vegan. While I'm not really sure exactly what constitutes "macro-vegan", I love this blog for two reasons. One, I'm a foodie and love finding new, family-friendly recipes. And two, Beckiwithani, who authors this blog, is C.Beth's sister, and I love her writing style as well!

7. There's Always Room for One More

I love reading about Denise's family. Mainly because her stories make The Manimal's exploits seem almost normal. And I have this fascination and admiration for larger families.

8. Octamom

Speaking of larger families, this Octamom should not be confused with the Octomom. This Octamom has a normal life with her hubby and eight (hence the name) children. She's an awesome photographer and I love reading her kid stories (and ohmygranny she's got a lot of them).

Stories, that is. Eight kids is a lot too, but with eight kids, the stories multiply exponentially and...

Oh, nevermind.

9. Amy and Georgie

So this is a two-fer, only because I always think of these chicks in one breath. Like "amyandgeorgie". Just to be clear, though, these are two, unrelated residents of the blogosphere, who just happen to be soul sisters. I started reading them both last year when they organized the Secret Santa Soiree. They're mommy bloggers with hearts of gold.

10. $5 Dinners

Erin hails from the same part of the Buckeye State that I do, and when I procrastinate on her blog, I always feel I can justify my time because I learn a new way to save money on my groceries! She is the coupon/budget queen and actually saves more using coupons at chain groceries than I do at my beloved Aldi.

So there you have it. Go procrastinate. I won't tell!

Skin and Bones

A few days ago I wrote about my journey on the low road.

Well, clearly I wasn't the only one on that road. The clearly airbrushed model in the picture, Filippa Hamilton, is actually a 5'10", 120 pound supermodel.

Whose contract with Ralph Lauren was terminated last April. According to Hamilton, Lauren terminated her because she was "too large".

Uhm...

Uhm...

I'm really trying not to use the words that are flying through my head right now. My dad wouldn't approve.

I'm 5'10" tall. According to Weight Watchers, the "healthy" weight range for that height is between 139 and 174 pounds. A normal BMI, according to the National Institutes of Health is 18.5-24.9. A 5'10" woman weighing 120 has a BMI of 17.2, which not only puts her OUT of the "normal" range, but plops her clearly in the "underweight" range.

Now, I'm not a big one for relying on numbers and charts, and frankly, "normal" is just a setting on a washing machine. But if Ralph Lauren feels that Filippa Hamilton is "large" with her 5'10", 120 pound frame, why does he even BOTHER with his Lauren Woman line of clothing for sizes 14-22? I'm sure he'd much rather be designing for those models in the size 0-2 range.

Better yet, why bother with girls like Filippa Hamilton at all. I mean, they could save loads of money and airbrush time if they went with a whole cadre of the perfect supermodels...

You take the high road and I'll take the low road...

I really try not to swear. Aside from my faith-related viewpoint, I always hear my dad's voice in my head saying that people who swear are showing their ignorance, because they can't think of appropriate words to describe their feelings.

Sorry, Dad, but there are no words in the entire English language to adequately convey my feelings for what I'm about to share with my bloggy friends.

Today I saw this photo on Robin's blog, Pensieve.



Uhm...

Uhhh...

What the F*CK?!

Now, I know all about the photoshopping insanity that goes on in the editing departments for the sole purpose of driving women insane trying to look like a supermodel eliminating any shred of positive self-esteem that young female humans have left selling the products, but honestly? Do they REALLY think that this ad will sell jeans to any human being?

I'm not even going to address the fact that I can't imagine buying jeans that look like THAT when they're new. But good grief. Someone needs to either feed that poor girl or fire the photoshopping idiot who thought that putting the waist/hips of a six year-old on an adult woman was a good idea.

If this is high fashion, then Ohmygranny, am I glad to live in the lowlands.

Where's Nancy Drew When I Need Her?

We've decided to rename our youngest, the one you all know as The Manimal. His given name is one we like very much, but recent events have led us to give him a more, well, appropriate name.

Hector.

As in Hector the Collector.

Allow me to elaborate. Last night, around 9:30 pm, Diva Husband discovered that Crackberry phone was missing. We searched high and low, indoors and outdoors, calling his phone from every other phone in the house. Over an hour was spent looking for the dang thing phone.

All to no avail.

So I called TeeMobile and asked them to check for outgoing calls in the last four hours (thinking that perhaps Princess the Wonder Dog had developed opposing thumbs and was calling her boyfriend Dan the Man Labrador), then asked that they put a restriction on all outgoing calls until we rectified the situation pleaseandthankyouverymuch.

Fast forward to this morning, as I was getting The Manimal his clothes for school. I discovered a blue shopping bag in his secret lair bedroom and just for fun, I checked it out.

And there it was, in all its Blackberry glory.

Along with a computer thumb drive, an empty $25 Visa gift card, a small (but very expensive) magnifying glass and a flashlight.

When I confronted our little perp about the contraband, his simple response was that "Daddy wasn't in his office."

Uh-huh. Case closed.

Now that the case is solved, you can go read about another odd item finding. My bloggy buddy The Original Octamom discovered that one of her kiddos has been experimenting with cryogenics. Thank goodness we live many states apart, because I don't need her kiddos giving The Manimal ANY help...

Yes, yes and YES!

Are you...

A mom of one, two or ten?
Pregnant or just had a baby?
Sleep-deprived because of said baby or for any reason whatsoever?

Have you...

Had appliances just go all to heck within days, weeks or months of their purchase?
Had to wait for a repairman? For hours?
Written a nasty-gram to a company regarding their lack of customer-service?

Do you...

Need a good, belly-shaking, snorting carbonated beverages through your nose laugh?
Tweet or at least know what it is and that it has nothing to do with a little yellow bird?
Enjoy happy, break-out-the tissues and have a good cry endings?

If you answered "yes" to any or all of the above questions, go now and read (or re-read) Dooce.

There She Is...

As my readers know, we females in the Diva family are seriously outnumbered. We are, in fact, limited to myself and the dog. So frou-frou, pink things and other such girly nonsense aren't really factors in our everyday lives.

Which may explain my bizarre attraction to the TLC show "Toddlers and Tiaras".

It's sort of like watching a horrible car accident. You want to turn away. You know you shouldn't stare. But you just.can't.stop.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not a pageant hater. I've watched Miss America since I was a kid. I've even seen girls blossom in a pageant system.

But T&T? There's just something so...wrong.

For each episode, TLC follows three families through a pageant experience. David is a parent who, by his own admission "lives for pageants". His darling two year old daughter, Ava, is a contestant, and David blogs about the pageants for TLC.

It's really not my intent to pass judgment on these parents, but seriously? At TWO, Ava "loves this scene"? In one episode, David says that his little girl is "learning such great life skills, like blowing kisses and waving".

Pardon me while I pick my jaw up off the floor.

Blowing kisses and waving?

I've done and reviewed a few resumes in my day, and I can't say that those would be high on my list of desirable life skills for anyone BEYOND the age of two.

Last night I watched as toddlers pranced and danced onstage in skimpy little costumes. I saw preschoolers and kindergartners with spray tans, hairpieces and flippers (weird little fake teeth to make their often holey smiles more "uniform" and "pretty"). It was all rather frightening.

And then there were the tantrums.

It was actually pretty funny. Three year olds throwing tantrums because they didn't want to go onstage. And the parents, apparently surprised by this behavior, trying to REASON with them.

I don't know about you, but The Manimal has an average of fifty-seven tantrums a day.

Okay. Maybe not FIFTY-SEVEN. But you get the idea.

He's three. That's his JOB.

If I ever got a wild hair to enter him in a pageant (and yes, the boys do compete), he'd probably be thrilled, because it would provide an audience for his tantrums.

And yet somehow, these pageant parents don't think that three year olds have tantrums at the most inopportune times.

On top of the high drama, there is the cash. Apparently, the fees for these pageants can run into hundreds of dollars per event. There are families who compete regularly, racking up thousands of dollars in entry fees, hoping that their child will win.

My favorite had to be the episode where the little girl was so excited to win the grand prize of $1000.

She wanted to buy a cow.

Maybe she wanted to raise it to enter the Moo-ss America Pageant?

High Praise

So we've really been working on potty training The Manimal.

Who am I kidding? Diva Husband, being home all day with the child, has really been working on potty training The Manimal!

At any rate, things are moving right along. Literally.

We've discovered that the kid has a thing for Hot Wheels cars, so every time he poops in the potty (we've pretty much conquered peeing, except at night), he gets to pick a new "poopin' car".

Yesterday, he pooped in the potty not less than FOUR TIMES. And each time there was substance.

I've heard of cases where children exert their control by choosing to/not to pee or poop. I've never heard of a situation where a child actually SPREADS OUT his poop so he can get more cars.

In related news, I was...ahem, using the facilities when said child walked in and started chatting (Yeah, I'm a mom. There is no privacy in my home.). He asked what I was doing.

"I'm pooping, Manimal. Is that OK?"

"Oh, yeah. Das good. Pooping in da potty is good."

We acknowledged that pooping in the potty was in the words of the Domestic Diva herself, "a good thing" and I completed my business.

"Lemme see da poop, Mommy."

He checked out the toilet and said, "Good job, Mommy! I berry proud of you!"

Your Name Is...

This is the first year that The Manimal has been really excited about Christmas. He loves the tree and Christmas lights, and sort of gets the whole Santa concept. In the Diva home, Santa gives each child one toy for Christmas, usually something he REALLY wants. The rest of the gifts come from family.

Sweet Son #1 was easy. He's 8 and old hat at this Santa stuff. We figured The Manimal would be easy too, since EVERY.SINGLE.TOY.COMMERCIAL ends with him saying "I need dat!". Notice the "need" instead of "want"? We have some serious work to do with this kid on priorities...

He's really big into Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Thomas the Tank Engine, so we felt certain that his Christmas list would include something from those toy lines. We even did some early Santa intervention and suggested that he might bring the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Raceway.

So when I asked The Manimal what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas, you can imagine my surprise at his response. The conversation went something like this...

Mom: "Manimal, what do you want for Christmas this year?"

The Manimal: "Uhhmmm....I tink I want...MUD!"

M: "Manimal, mud is not a toy."

TM: "Yes! I tink mud!"

M: "Santa will not bring you mud."

TM: "Yes! I want MUD!"

M: "Mud is dirty. You can't play with it in the house. What else do you want for Christmas?"

TM: "Uhhmmm...I tink...mud annnddd....MUD!"

I rapidly deduced that any further conversation about Christmas gifts or the illogicity of mud as one of them would get me nowhere.

I tried a different tack.

M: "Manimal, you have to be a good boy. Santa doesn't bring presents to naughty boys."

TM: "Yes. Santa bring MUD."

Sigh.

I do have a few options. All of them include getting Santa's elves one of a dozen recipes for "clean mud" (most of which, oddly enough, seem to include large amounts of toilet paper) and making sure the big guy throws in a few large plastic tablecloths and a Tupperware container, because there is no.freakin.way that I'm letting the boy play with real mud in the house.

Not after the paint incident...

Run, Run As Fast As You Can!

After much pleading from Sweet Son #1, I purchased one of those pre-baked Gingerbread House Kits. We'd done one a couple of years ago and I felt since he was older, it would be easier.

I suppose it could be because I'm older too. Or maybe it's just the stress of the holiday season, but somewhere along the way, I apparently forgot that I have a second son. One who is at the age where he must participate in EVERYTHING that his big brother does.

I do, however, have photographic evidence (albeit with the wrong dates on the pics...a situation I've FINALLY figured out how to remedy) that they BOTH contributed to this project.

And further evidence that at least one of them (who shall remain nameless) ate more than his share of royal icing.
But when all was said and done, we had a Gingerbread House that would've made Hansel drool.

And one very happy big brother.

And one less bottle of Riesling in my fridge...

Going Green

Hey, Sandra and Suburban Prep, if you're reading, please check this post. I need some info from you.

We now return to our regularly scheduled blog programming...

In the spirit of Kermit the Frog ("It's Not That Easy Being Green"), we're recycling a few of my holiday faves. In a post last year, I told you about a woman who was tired of retailers capitalizing on Christmas (which is, just to remind everyone, a CHRISTIAN holiday, celebrating the birth of JESUS CHRIST) and yet not uttering the words "Merry Christmas", for fear of offending some non-believers. It's a great story which bears checking out again. Or for the first time if you've never seen it! Go here. But then come back.

Otherwise you'll miss one of my favorite Christmas traditions. The hippopotamus. Be sure your speakers are turned up and get ready to laugh.

Merry Christmas! Oh, and yes, I know my background says "Happy Holidays", but it's a free background and I liked the colors. And until I take that ever-elusive class in HTML, I'll be taking all the free things I can get!

Slump Day

Well, here we are on the twentieth day of NaBloPoMo, and I've officially hit the slump. You other participants know what I'm talking about. Heck, any blogger who posts with even vague regularity is probably intimately acquainted with the slump of which I speak.

Of course, when you're doing something that has you committed (even if for honor only) to post every.single.day.of.the.month, the slump seems that much more enormous.

So to celebrate "Slump Day", I give you the following mishmash of randomness:

Blogs to Visit

I have a whole list (I'm ashamed to tell you that the number is creeping ever closer to 200) of blogs that I (try to) visit every day. If I gave you all of them here, you'd never get anything done. Here are a few to tempt your bloggy taste.

The Green Queen & The Salt Fiend--My friends Heather and Nicole have hatched this joint blog idea and it's absolutely hysterical. You MUST go visit. Like right now. Then come back here.

Life With a Little One and More--Jenners just started following my blog and I LOVE visiting hers. She, like me, has--uhm--a bit more life experience than a lot of other moms of young children and she loves to write. She also has just recently started a sort of online book club which is very cool for us readers in the bunch!

Preserved By a Promise--Beth is fairly new to the blogosphere and this is her journey "out of the Pit and onto the Rock". She writes about her faith journey so very eloquently (and she's an amazing photographer as well!). As with Heather and Nicole, Beth is a former student of mine, and it's so cool to have experienced life with all of them at different stages.

Christmas

Is coming. Quickly. As in 35 days. Quick, someone grab the smelling salts...

Phew. Crisis averted for the moment.

I need some suggestions. I'm making vanilla extract and a rosemary-garlic olive oil to include in my homemade gift baskets (DivaMom, you'd better act surprised!). I'm desperate for suggestions on where to get bottles (not jars) that can somehow be sealed (only for transport), either with wax or a screw top. I've checked The Container Store, Hobby Lobby and JoAnn Etc. Did I mention I don't want to spend a fortune on said bottles?

Happy Birthday

To my baby brother. He's 36 today.