Time Flus By When You're Having Fun

Have any of you been hit with the flu this year? I feel a bit guilty, because we never got the flu shots. And man, am I paying

However... the upshot? We're all hanging out at home today. I'm about to collapse in bed with my little Pipper and catch a few zzzzz's to some opera music piping in from the old CD player. Classical music, to me, is like horses. It kind of all seems the same, but it's very pleasant.

I won't be writing until the weekend, so til then, take care, and stay warm.

* Photo taken of Stink today. You can see the red in his eyes. However, is he not having a terrific hair day? I love his age. Half little man, half little boy. I could eat him up. But I won't. Little boys don't do much for my digestion, nor the flu. But he sure looks good...... MMMMMMMMMMM

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

Porn for Women - Click Photos to Read Captions!

Have a great day!

You've Got MORE Hate Mail

What I've learned from the extremist viewpoints as of late (see prior post if you have no idea what I'm talking about) is that you can't please the world.

As I mentioned to Cecelia earlier this evening, my only real frustration with the crazies is that they read into stuff that wasn't there. I feel compelled to explain/defend myself. But then I stop. Because really, what's the point? In a way, it feels good to get these letters and still go on with my life, because it shows that I really do have a thick skin.

Someone in the prior post asked about how to toughen up. I'd love to hear your thouhts on that. For me, it's just getting to know who I am more and more. As I get stronger on the inside, outside influences affect me less. A few arguments with people over the past year really got under my skin, but I walked away with a better sense of self. Every fight or bad circumstance doesn't have to be the end of you if you attempt to find some insight from it.

Though I'm having a hard time finding insight from this next comment. What could it be? I can only imagine it gets heavy holding that torch of anger. I wish her luck.

Andrea:

I thank God that I am neither callous enough to nickname my howling, ignored, screaming child “the Howler,” nor cavalier enough to post an entire comment about neglecting one’s child at night for a week so they will learn that Mom and Dad aren’t coming when she cries. To me, this excerpt from one of your posted replies says it all: “…I put my emotional stability first - not theirs.” Perhaps if you weren’t emotionally stable enough to care for your child, you shouldn’t have had them.

That was really lovely, don't you think?

I had to laugh at my friend's Cecelia's take on this. She defended my honor with this:

Alright, I will step in here and assure the masses at large that Andrea’s children are well-cared for and deeply loved. I know this to be true, as I have been to her house hundreds of times and have yet to witness any child abuse, other than the fact that she keeps dressing her daughter in leopard prints. Andrea and her husband are doting parents. The kids are doing great and will make fine additions to society, unlike a majority of the posters on this thread. Have a nice day, everyone!

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

You've Got Hate Mail

Today was the best day ever! I got my first, bonified, "you suck as a mother" comment at my BabyCenter gig. If only I could get 100 more, on a daily basis, then maybe, just maybe, I could get a following like Dooce and buy a huge home in Utah. I'd settle for a cute bungalow in the Hollywood Hills, but you get the point.

I had written an article on why I don't do attachment parenting. I'm just not into sling wearing, co-sleeping or breastfeeding. Not saying it's wrong - seriously, it's fine for some - it just isn't for me. I said as much in this article called detachment parenting.

Here's the response that made my day:

"It’s sad to see that someone who is so selfish and uninformed can write for a parenting website. There are many, many studies to show what she’s done is, if not harmful, then at least not as good as what she’s making fun of. “Attachment Parenting” is a label, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. Breastfeeding, cosleeping, carrying your baby, etc. are all the natural norms of child rearing. The kind of parenting the author brags about is unnatural. I highly recommend the book “Our Babies, Ourselves” by Meredith Small to anyone who is truly interested in what constitutes normal, natural baby care. If the author would like to continue to experiment on her children with unnatural care, then I wish her the best of luck."

Oh, man... people make me laugh laugh laugh. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to abuse my children. You know, make them nap. By themselves. In their warm bedrooms. With their clean sippy cups and fresh milk as opposed to my period stained sheets and 38 year old dried up nipples.

PS: Happy Valentines Day! These flowers were from Rex. I was actually surprised, as he'd already given me a huge Hershey's Kiss that morning. Speaking of nipples... have you ever tried eating one of those huge solid chocolate kisses? They're the size of Dolly Parton's left boob. Delicious! (The chocolate, not the mammory...)

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

Made In China

I found this odd numbered set of Corelle dishware on my weekly thrift store jaunt. I believe the pattern is called "Crazy Daisy". It also comes in olive green and I believe some shade of orange, but don't quote me.

Mine have a pattern of white and mustard yellow, the yellow wrapping around the saucers and plates in a cheery display of 1960's florals and butterflies.

I don't know why I love thrifting so much. Is it the good deals? The thrill of the hunt? The pleasure in finding odd items to fill my home, making it more ecclectic and conversational?

Perhaps it's the idea that someone once loved something but then died, so I'm giving it a new life. Maybe it's a foothold in a past that I can romanticize - a middle finger to our cold modern age?

It's probably a combo of all, but for certain my biggest love for thrifting lies in how it representats people. To me, just because something has a small flaw, or a scar, does not mean it should be discarded. With a little TLC, something can be so shiny and new, you hardly remember it was once a worthless piece of trash.

Perhaps I treat old discards with such care because I, too, will one day be old. Will I be tossed aside, like someone's old memory book that no longer has significance, or will I be taken care of with loving hands? Will someone give me some dignity when I can no longer care for myself?

I don't know. But until that day comes, I plan on filling my life with wacky china patterns, lime green end tables and the occasional Raggety Anne doll found near a stack of baseball trading cards. The 1980's turquoise and black CD holders? Not so much. But I'm sure someone will love them as much as I love my Crazy Daisies.

Anything you're passionate about? Why?

When You Wish Upon a Star

Today after school we visited Stella, the kids' great grandma. She's fond of telling me the story about how her sister was named Eve because she was born at night. But Stella was born at dawn. Stella in Italian means "morning star." I think it's also loosely translated as "Meteor that likes to talk and drink martinis", but don't quote me.

I stretched out on her 1960's plaid couch while the kids played with the post-it notes they received from the mailman - an old mail box Stella stuck in her rock garden just for them. I was able to unwind for a few moments, as well as ponder a lamp that's slightly larger taller than Mary Kate Olsen but not as skinny. Impossible, but true.

True of Stella's style, I did not leave without pasta and nick nacks. There was the quilt by way of the hair stylist at the park beauty shop where Stella gabs... er... works... the hair stylist inherited the bedding from her daughter and her husband. Given they are newleyweds, I think I'll wash it first. I also left with magazines, some handiwipes, and what looks like a back scratcher, but it could be a plunger. I haven't investigated yet.

Word on the street is I'm missing out on the fringed white lampshade I turned down, but I think I'll live with my decision. "It's really quite stunning" she promised me. Not stunning enough for her to keep, of course, but stunning enough for me to drag home.

Let's not forget the full belly I left with: 10 Hershey kisses, a slice of raisin bread, two cups of coffee and a cracker.

If all of you were close by, I'd bring you to Stella's one Friday. We'd attempt to learn to knit and drink cocktails that could start a car. Who's in?


* Image taken of Stella a few months ago in Vegas. Her name might mean morning star, but that night, it was "86 year old hot stuff walks barefoot in the rain to avoid ruining her flats". Piece. Of. Work. Gotta love her. I do. You would, too.

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

Taking a Little Guilt Trip

It's probably because I'm working every day now... a blog here, a blog there... and I'm super happy about it. But... I feel kind of guilty. I've been a bit shorter with the kids. I'm thinking about what I need to do when I'm with them. In a way, it's good. How exciting can a game of Candy Land be? It's nice to mentally construct a story or come up with a theme for the Valentines Day posts.

And here's the deal... I don't really write when they are home. I limit it to when they are at school. I'm determined to be the mom that spends time with them, not just the computer.

And yet... Stink is watching a new Scooby right now. And he asked me to watch it with him. I said I would, but fifteen minutes later, I'm checking emails, logging onto BabyCenter to view comments, downloading a little cash from the remainder of my Ebay items into Pay Pal.

I feel... guilty.

Which is dumb. Because really... how much time can you spend with a child? And Lord knows, I do spend time with my kids. I was on the computer before the work, but I think I'm falling into the trap now of "Working moms don't care for their kids as much" which I swore I'd never do. Because it's not true.

So let me ask you this: do any of you working moms go through this? I'd like to think there is a balance: time for me, time for them. But man, it's hard. Thoughts?

Oh, this post wasn't particularly funny today. Let me pull something silly out of my butt just to make you chuckle. Um...

...

......

.........

No, I got nothing. Not for you. Not for the kids. I'm a bad, bad workaholic computer freaky addicted Ebay thrift store shopper.

PS: I'm not really looking for sympathy here akin to "Oh, no, you're a great mommy!" I'm more looking for... "This is how I deal with it..."

But then again, if you want to throw a compliment my way, go for it. And tell me I look thinner also. And that it's not a big deal that I backed into a black Mercedes today, leaving a dent bigger than the pores in Edward James Olmos' face.

Thanks!

PS: Photo of the kids and I back when I had no job and was bitch bitch bitching every day on this blog about how much I missed work. But look how happy we are! Oh... at least they had a few good years of mommy time.

Wait... those aren't my kids. Though they are young enough to be my offspring. Those are Abercrombie and Fitch models taken in Vegas. Stella made me pose with them! Their muscles had nothing to do with it. And yes, it's one more example of me avoiding my children while I caravan all over the strip! Bad, bad Mommy!

More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.

Life in the Slow Lane

I'm a grandma driver. I admit it. If the speed limit is 55, I'm happy at 50. What's the rush? "Ooooh, let's hurry up so we stand in line some more at the grocery store. Then let's bump off a pedestrian so we can hit more traffic when we get stuck behind the train one mile up."

Rex says the line between "safe" and "rude" is pretty sketchy with me. "You're so pokey." If I hear one more time, "The light is green. That means GO" he's gonna get a STOP sign rammed up his nether regions faster than Bruce Jenner's top speed at the '76 Olympics. If you don't know who Bruce Jenner is, then you're way younger than me. Which means you're driving faster than me. Which means you will probably agree with Rex and the lovely couple I'm about to describe.

I was driving the kids to school a few days back, and apparently my destination was not as important as the people in the silver Honda Accord's destination. They rode my butt for a mile, then blared their horn. When I looked into my rearview mirror, I could see their tanned faces stretched to capacity in frustration. "MOOOOOOVE! What the hell!" they gesticulated - looking more like they were passing a tough dookie than driving.

I was grateful we were passing Kaiser, because one of them was about to have a stroke. They finally passed me and screamed, "Moron!". Then they gave me the bird.

* Note: Good Christian readership, turn away now. I'm about to go celebrity on the paparazzi here.

I hope those arrogant pricks run out of gas on the way to their ever so important jobs as CIO of Butt Wipes, Inc.. I hope the blond gets a tumor from the peroxide and that her nails get imbedded in the back of the pompous ass she's stupping. I hope they know that despite their tans, botox and clean shirts, they pass more as fake designer handbags than attractive twenty somethings. I hope they get crabs - and not the kind you eat for dinner.

* Note: Good Christen women, feel free to return to the post.

I did not give the bird back, but inwardly wished them a pleasant day. I hope you all have one also. As for me, it's going well, despite the fact that Pip has a fever. Papa took Stink to a party at Chuck E. Cheese while she and I walked to the local store.

Well, I walked. She got tucked in with a blanket and was pampered like an L.A. chihuahua. We picked up all the essentials to get through a bad cold: Coffee, cookies, jelly and five Gerber daisies. Wait, that was for me. For her, we got a baby bagel and some oj. She'll be better in no time.

I saw some friends on the way home. Hi Mama K, Homemaker D and all the adorable clan you care for! Hope you have fun and enjoy pissing off the road ragers as much as I do.



The End.


More of my writing can be found on Goodhousekeeping
& Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a note! I’d love it! Or don’t.