Pass The Zoloft

My Current Blog Location is At...

2011-02-27T14:56:00.001-08:00

www.lifehappins.com

For some reason, my host - Weebly - won't let me leave comments for you Google/Blogger folk. I'm sorry! This is the best way I could figure to leave my signature. \

Take care and come on by my current home at the link above!

Hard Headed Children

2009-03-26T19:40:00.000-07:00

My blog is now at http://www.lifehappins.com/. Thanks!

If Furniture Were a Bomb Pop

2009-03-24T21:11:00.000-07:00

This is where you can find me now. Unless you like just looking at weird photos. Which is fine. Welcome!

2009-02-09T20:34:00.000-08:00

Thank you MN and Liv

2008-10-14T19:28:00.000-07:00

My RSS feed is working. So NOW... for the last time... come visit me.

Please let me know if it's not working.

http://www.lifehappins.com/pass-the-zoloft.html

I'm Moving!

2008-10-08T12:42:00.000-07:00

Please travel over here and change your address for me! I'm finally moved in. See you soon!

www.lifehappins.com

It Weeble Woobles...

2008-10-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

...and it does fall down.

If you don't get the above reference you are younger than I am and I officially hate you.

So far my new site's platform (http://www.lifehappins.com/) is more confused than Lindsay Lohan's sexuality. It is not showing comments, RSS feeds, my original posts and, like a hemorrhoid, being an overall pain in the arse.

However, Super Rex just flew in to save the day. Not only did he hand me a Diet Coke, but he informed me that the Evil Computer Devil did not infiltrate my new web page, but instead the Dorky Mama Tech set up her portion of Life Happins as a web page, not a blog, hence the inability to leave comments.

Since I'm back in the internet force field and don't feel like going into hiding again while I fix this temporary glitch, think of Blogspot here as a temporary apartment until the mansion is updated.

In closing, I took all day off of the computer on Saturday. I actually cleaned out my office and started organizing some videos. The nesting! The connection to family again! The vision of a few family nights with our new Disney collection of tapes, courtesy of a neighbor - all of them neatly tucked in dresser drawers.

Then the VCR broke. Then we ran out of milk. Then this morning I slept through my alarm and missed church. Now I'm cranky, Rex is watching the history of pirating, and my kids busy cutting out Halloween costumes from ads while intermittently streaking in and out of my office with little pieces of scrap paper, interrupting my ability to think sanely and calmly, so instead I've resorted to screaming, "If you don't leave this office I'm throwing out the magazines of costumes (which NO I WILL NOT BE BUYING YOU YOU"LL GET A HOMEMADE HALLOWEEN COSTUME AND LOVE IT) and you'll spend the next hour cleaning your room while I sit for TEN MINUTES IN PEACE HOLY BUCKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (then) Love you! Smooch smooch! Now scat!"

A peaceful Sunday. It was nice while it lasted.

* Photo of my office in progress. I can breathe! There's stuff in drawers! I have furniture to hide my thrift store addiction... um... smart purchases! I also have wires to kill small toddlers and dogs. But I'm working on it, along with a paint job, a new rug and some wrap around office furniture that Rex will build in between working, potentially going to grad school and fixing all other house projects like kitchens that look like Martha Stewart went bi-polar on me. Stay tuned.

I'm Moving In With A Woman

2008-10-03T19:58:00.000-07:00

Oh relax. The woman I'm moving in with is my sister-in-law at a new website.

Karin is a lot like Rex, only she talks more and is much shorter, blonder and funnier. She's also able to drive past a Fry's Electronic's without shaking more than Robert Downey Jr. after a bender.

I have missed all of you over the past few months and look forward to catching up. After all, Life Happins.

Taking A Break From Blogging to Cool Off

2008-07-29T16:00:00.000-07:00

After 3 years blogging in this space, I need a small break to work some issues out. Some of them include, but aren't limited to:

* My friggin' ads. Why just public service ads? And what do I really feel about ads on my site? Will I lose credibility? Am I a sell out or, like any artist with patrons, do I not deserve some income for my work?

* Is it work to write here? Not to me. It's always been a joy, which leads me back to question #1 again and begs the next question...

* What credibility do I have? I mean, what is this site about anymore anyway? Slice of life? Mommyhood? Being positive?

* Perhaps most importantly, will anyone's life be ruined if I'm not throwing my opinion into cyberspace each day? Doubtful.

I write all this not to be negative, but because I really do want to make a difference to people with my writing, even if it's just silly entertainment.

I feel good about my paid gigs, because those have focus: Parenting or marriage. But most important to me is my personal work. What is that focus?

Perhaps, in the end, there doesn't need to be one. Maybe the odd little nuances of my life are what pull my readers in. Or perhaps what sends them away, clasping at their chests,"Thank God I'm not saddled with a husband, two kids and a house in the burbs." I don't know.

I love my little space here. When my kids were only 1 and two and a half, it was truly my only connection to my writing life. When parenting seemed bleak and dark, with not a lot of extras to treat myself to, a kind comment from you made all the difference.

When Rex and I were going through a stressful period, I was able to turn to this site for insight on who I was outside of marriage. And while I certainly didn't share everything going on in my life (I shouldn't have to - no one should) I was able to let off some steam while I came to the peaceful place that I'm at now in my professional life, mothering life and marriage.

I hope you'll come back in September. But be aware: It will have a new look and some new vavoom once again. I'd like to think of it as going on a small cruise. Without the cheesey pitstops. Nor the bad lounge singers encouraging it to play shuffle board on the lido deck.

I'll be checking into everyone else's posts and most likely emailing many of you with technical questions as I work on a new look for PasstheZoloft as well as an organic type blog I'm doing in conjunction with someone else.

Finally, I recently taught an online magazine writing class that went really well. If any of you know people interested in taking an online class where people can log in at their own pace and learn how to pitch editors, send them my way. I'm charging 100.00 for 4 weeks. My last class landed someone correspondence with an editor in two weeks. I'm proud of that.

Anyway, thank you everyone! Talk at ya in September.

* Photo of the adorable dog we were housesitting for this weekend. I almost named this post "A Slippery Wiener" but I didn't want to go out like that.

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.

I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

2008-07-26T22:46:00.000-07:00

So after the last post on drinking, I decided myself that I'm not partaking nightly. From calories to making me tired in the morning, I simply don't need alcohol every night. I appreciate everyone's opinion on the subject, though. And rest assured, if we ever did some blog girls weekend, you'll see me enjoying my Rum Diet Cokes.

On another note, my camera batteries are MIA, so I can't show you this photo of a wiiner dog I took care of this weekend. Aptly named Chuey, he munched on my son's Lightening McQueen shoes, stole 3 chicken legs, and dove into the pool to save Stink from his mean mama tossing him in the air. This dog was both annoying and friggin' lovable all at once. (Kind of like me.) I'm sad my neighbor is back, because it was fun hanging at her pool and seeing the kids interact with this hound.

Speaking of dogs, I seem to have picked up a weird dog allergy late in life. My throat gets all stuffy fluffy. Neither here nor there, but I'm kind of bummed, because my best friends have the sweetest dogs on the planet, and while I can hang out there with them, I am going to have to detox them from my place for a while. I feel guilty, because my kids go to their house. And for some people, dogs are like kids. I mean, if you think about it, they both jump on furniture, pee in inappropriate places, eat with their mouths open and don't come when you call them.

On a sad note, a colleague of mine's son just died a few days ago. I just saw her speak at a panel at Blogher about kids with special needs. I don't know the whole story. But that combined with a woman from church who just passed away from cancer, leaving three young kids behind, makes me grateful for the life I do have.

I am meeting His Girl tommorow. I told her that if she wants to get Jesus freaky on me that's fine. But if she does hands on healing and spills my Diet Coke I'm going to kick her God loving booty out of the restaurant.

Happy Monday 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.

A Tall Drink of Water

2008-07-24T21:36:00.001-07:00

If I were a cartoon character, I'd be the Bumble from Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. Sadly, like this rather large dude, I don't enjoy shaving. My temper is like his in that I get all spit fiery and pissy kind of easily, even if I don't always show it. The good side of being a Bumble is that I'm not afraid of falling because I bounce right back. And I'm tall. Really tall. The person putting the star on the tree at your party? That would be me. I've also been known on occasion to scare small children and dogs.

Someone once called me a "Tall drink of water". I find it rather ironic, because while I am indeed lengthier than a cash register line at a Nordstroms Half Yearly Anniversary sale, I don't drink water. I do bad things very well, though despite constant protests of giving it up. Diet Coke and coffee? Oh yeah. Stained teeth and coffee breath. Goes nicely with the Bumble Hair I so hate to shave.

Lately, at night, I've added a new spin to my Diet Coke addiction. And it's none other than R-U-M.

I blame Blogher.

And my husband who, the other night, insisted I was wound tighter than Princess Leah's braided hair buns (God, weren't those so rad back in the 70's?) Why waste a half glass of bubbly when two would do the trick?

And there's the dilemna. See, despite being HUGE, I'm a teeny weeny alcohol light weight. Which means I'm supine on the couch 25% into my booze. Which means by 50% in I'm half naked and giggling. Which means 75% in I'm all the way naked. Which means 100% in Rex is... 100% in.

And while that's not bad (shut up, all 2 of you male readers) I worry... because that's what I do... I have anxiety attacks about everything... even having fun... is drinking every night - say even one glass - a bad habit? Do ya'll do it? Because I have to tell you - this laughing at dumb stuff and things you can't control? It doesn't suck.

* Photo of Stink and I on the last flight out of San Fran five years ago when the L.A. fires hit. I didn't know it then, but Pip was inside of me, planning her future shoe empire. Do you see how I can crash out even in planes with ginormous nine monthers on me? (Yes, he was only 9 months.) Do you see why I am such a sloppy drunk? Help! Do you drink nightly or not?

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.

Blogher - Loved It!

2008-07-21T21:28:00.000-07:00

I'm back from Blogher. As so many people have said before me, it was an amazing time! Not only was the hotel to die for, but the conferences were informative, there was great swag, amazing food and just so many people to talk to. Combine this with a rockin' city and some extra cash in my pocket for drinks, treats, a new bra, a pedicure and some well needed freedom, I can't complain about a thing.

Well... except for having to throw out $75.00 of face soap on my trip home because I was a dork face and didn't pack correctly.

And the fact that I only had a one day pass to the conference instead of 3 and wasn't invited to any swanky parties where I could kanoodle with Heather Armstrong of Dooce fame.

And the fact that when I did finally see Heather of Dooce fame speak, I was sitting so far back that her head looked like the vintage angel at the top of my Christmas tree after many, many eggnogs. But it was still awesome. I loved what she and many others had to say about the business side of writing.

A big thanks goes out to my husband who not only slipped me surprise cash before I left, but took amazing care of my rug rats. When he picked me up at the airport, he had a huge Diet Coke waiting for me, took me to lunch, and let me sleep for 4 hours. Yeah, I'm bragging. But I can't help it. (Well, I can, but I'm not.) It was super of him.

Now that Monday has settled in, I'm back to the routine of life. I'm also a bit worried since my poor boy is sick for the fourth time this summer. Not a high fever, thank God, but a sore throat none-the-less. Any of you experience this with your kids? He went from immunizations last month to an infected arm, pink eye, strep throat and now this. I'm just tired of him getting ill and am hoping that this is a normal thing for 5 year olds?

The photo above is of myself with Liv (yes, she really is hot in person) Christine from Flutter (equally hot) and my fabulous roomie, JCK from Motherscribe (equally hot.) This "equally hot" thing means nothing as have maybe 2 male readers, but I'm letting you know anyway because they really were such fabulous gals.

A big thanks to my cousin who picked me up in San Jose a few days before and took great care of me. Love you, Dee and Jim!

How was your weekend?

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.

All She Wants for Her 4th Birthday Is...

2008-07-15T22:06:00.000-07:00

...An Aqua Globe. Perhaps you've seen the infomercials? They're little blown glass devices that promise to water your plants PERFECTLY for you FOR TWO WEEKS. No messes! It's that easy!

I had no idea Pipsqueak knew about those, but as evidenced by this video, she has. She asked me why I wasn't buying her one. What I didn't say, but would have loved to, is, "When I can buy a Toddler Globe which consists of a little plastic device I can pop in your ass that will FEED YOU for TWO WEEKS! with NO MESSES! I'll consider it."

Until then, she's getting a princess like the rest of the girls out there. Hey, someone's got to clothe those execs at Disney.

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.

It's Almost Hump Day!

2008-07-15T09:22:00.001-07:00

I've read a great book recently by Kimberly Ford called Hump: True Tales of Sex After Kids. Ford talks about embracing her sexuality after her babies are born, not hiding from it. It's funny, witty and such a nice twist on the post baby books where women rant about never wanting sex again. As a person who falls in the middle of both categories, I found it really inspiring and validating all at once. Curious what you think.

I have a review out on GoodHousekeeping tomorrow if anyone's interested in hearing more about it. Or just buy it! You won't be disappointed.

Until then, my true puritanical self (see blog below - LOL) is off pack for a trip, plan a family party for Pip and go grocery shopping. It's an exciting life at best. I hope I don't fling my sports bra into the natural foods freezer section. I'll let you know.

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.

Infuriating the Masses

2008-07-15T09:02:00.001-07:00

I'm not talking about the Catholic Church. I'm talking about the male readership at Yahoo Shine - a site mostly meant for women, but men troll it to find women.

What I find the most fascinating about this forum is not only how poorly people spell (and I'm no goddess at it as you know) but the level of anger if you dare question people's beliefs.

It's also interesting to note that:

1. People tend to only comment when they disagree with you.

2. One really obnoxious comment encourages twenty others

3. People throw way more insults at a computer screen than they will in real life. Perhaps they forget that the person who originally took the time to write it might actually check back in to learn something. Which I have. Which, in this case, is that men don't like to be challenged on the fact that women that take their clothes off on film are not necessarily doing it with a busines plan in mind.

Anyway, am curious about your thoughts on this subject. Please don't feel the need to support me, but do me a favor if you have time and articulate where I went wrong in posing my argument. If I came off like a religious right winged anti-gay sanitized Lemon Pledge woman, that wasn't really my intent. I simply wanted a discussion.

I got one.

To entice you, here is my favorite rant so far. I wish I had those little hater boxes like in Dooce. One day... this from a woman actually. My favorite part is when I'm addressed by my proper name. In addition to being painted as a staunch butch feminist, I am also matronly.

Anyway, take it easy. See some of you at Blogher? Email me seperately with your #s so we can chat! BabyCenterAndrea@yahoo.com

Let's get something straight right now: The women who "write" for this site are not feminists. They're just flighty airheads who think that having an OPINION with no RESEARCH or FACTS to back it up is reason enough to go into an online tizzy and throw their whining text into cyberspace. This site is a detriment to feminism; this blog post is an embarassment.

There are so many problems with this blog post it's impossible to list them all. What proof of ANY kind does Ms. Frazer have that ANY woman who shows skin in the media is doing it for male approval? Ms. Frazer has equated Miley Cyrus being wrapped in a blanket to pornography to eating an entire package of Oreo cookies. A young girl wrapped in a blanket IS IN NO WAY PORNOGRAPHIC. Being NUDE and SHOWING SKIN are not the same thing. When was Britany Spears photographed NUDE? Pornography is NOT natural sex and is NOT a "natural function." The urge to eat an entire package of cookies isn't natural either. How is Ms. Frazer's sex life related to these things?

But what's Ms. Frazer's REAL problem? Is it just that she can't write? Is she ashamed of sexuality? Is she angry/jealous of our youth obsessed culture, yet unable to analyze or discuss this issue intelligently without ranting? Was she unsuccessfully attempting to discuss sexism in the male-dominated media while simultaneously blaming women for embracing their own sexuality? Does she lack even a fundamental understanding of European culture, which long ago abandoned the Puritanical sexual ideals that people like her hold so dear? Is her love for her daughter conditional, based on her wardrobe choices or lack thereof?

This post is juvenile at best. Based on the blog posts I've read from "writers" on this site affiliated with Good Housekeeping, I now consider that rag among the cheapest of tabloids.

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.

White Trash Here I Come!

2008-07-08T22:05:00.001-07:00

I have decided that although I would love a new kitchen, it's like giving up Diet Coke - simply not in the cards. (Yes, I'm back on the juice. I had a good month's run of water and ice tea. And then my body screamed, "Fxxx this shxx" and I had to oblidge it.)

* Sidenote: Do you think I'm somehow more classy by not actually spelling the cuss words? Because I really don't want to swear. But, like my new kitchen and giving up cancer inducing sodas, I just can't. Moving on.

My kitchen: I've had it with the chipped tile, old paint, stupid knick knacks, goo on the counters, old curtains and general "Make me want to kill myself while I'm cooking gluten free tastes like a homeless person's shoe insert food."

And so, I'm fixing it up! I'm painting doors white! I am taking down old curtains! My sister-in-law is making me curtains for above my window and below my sink. I'm even going to replace the burnt brown 1970's laminate over my stove. I can't decide between aqua blue with sparkles or boring vanilla. You'll never guess what I'm leaning toward.

Is my decorating tastes potentially a cross between the Pottery Barn, the Salvation Army and a brothel? Perhaps. But you know what? If I'm not spending 25 grand right now, I want to have something fun. For my time and about 250.00 in new accessories, laminate and a throw rug, I can have a fun 1950's style kitchen.

And, after K is done with my under the sink curtains (I'm thinking aqua with cherries or white with cherries) I might never want that new cooking space after all.

PS: Feel sorry for me. I have a yukky throat. But soon I'll be able to make it feel better with tea in my funky new kitchen. I'll toast a virtual cup to ya'll.

Looking forward to checking all your sites out soon.

* Photo of my little cans: Trash, recycling and wet rags. Sad that something so small like this just lifts my little heart up. And man, I need to paint pronto. I'm thinking of putting up stainless steel squares behind the trash cans, like they have in diners, for easy wipe down. I will have to check some restaurant supply sites. I love this stuff. And hey, suggestions are welcome. But not on the laminate. I want my aqua blue sparkles.

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 Keep Stink, I'll Keep Pip!!!!

2008-07-02T23:44:00.000-07:00

Some of you wanted to know about our vacation. It was beautiful. And such a nice break. But most of all, it was so wonderful to reconnect with my family.

I'm sure a lot of you are like we are, running all over the map. It's easy to lose sight of what really matters. I mean, I know, but I don't always know. But after sharing a small cabin with these people, I can't think of any other human beings I'd be happier to share my home with.

Unless Eric Bana or Hugh Grant came to my door. Or a year's supply of Yuban. Then I'd sell Rex down the river.

I feel strong. And relaxed. And pumped full of gratitude.

I'm sure by tomorrow I'll want to bitch slap a checker, so don't get too washed away in my emotion with me. Stay strong in the jadedness, people. Stay strong.

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.

His Girl, I've Been A Bad Girl

2008-06-25T22:44:00.001-07:00

So I have to chuckle. His Girl, upon reading a few of my Good Housekeeping blogs, and seeing my responses to some fairly unenlightened folks, basically joked, "You just like messing with people, don't you?"

Um, yeah. I don't take it too personally. And I leave all comments up, even the ones I don't agree with. The only ones I send to the abuse team is the random spam telling me they'd like to "Eat my cat..." if you catch my drift. (Sorry Patches @ The Litter Pan. Hope that didn't scare you.)

And the bad spelling from some of these commenters? Fine. I really believe everyone deserves a voice. And Lurd nos I make lots of puntuation arrors if you catch my drift.

But stuff like responses like this post about the boundaries wives need to set? Oh my God... I live for it. Hence the highlited stimulating conversation here. I wish I could make this stuff (and the use of capitalization) up:

Posted by cooldude 8 hours 1 minute ago

" IF YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH ONE ANOTHER YOU WOULD NOT NEED ALL THIS ----- YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT YOU DO NOT NEED RULES IF YOU ARE IN LOVE JUST GET IN THE BED AND SATISFY EACH OTHER IF MY WIFE COME TELLING THAT BULL ----- ABOUT RULES I WOULD GET UP GO GET ME A WHORE AND TELL WY WIFE TO KISS MY ASS"

From Me:

Cooldude - Being in love, like anything, takes work. You just don't "stay in la-la land" forever. Life gets in the way. If you spoke to me like you write here, I'd not only tell you to go get a whore, I'd also encourage you to get a dictionary. You could study it while sleeping in your own bed.

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.

We're Baaaaackkkkk...........

2008-06-23T03:38:00.001-07:00

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.

So Long, Farewell...

2008-06-16T00:20:00.000-07:00

I'm going on vacation! Yeah! I'm leaving on Monday for almost a full week. I will be without cell phone, computer, DVD player or telephone. That's elating, and terrifying, all at once.

This past week just about did me in, what with shopping, car cleaning, errands, end of school activities, shots for kindergarten, going away parties... on and on.

My poor Stink... I took him in on Thursday for his final immunizations. On Saturday I took him to get his TB shot marks tested (he's fine) but the nurse found his arm all swollen from his other shots.

I felt like the worst mom ever, because I hadn't really noticed it. I thought all arms swelled up like piping hot balloons after being stabbed by sharp needles..

I was doing okay with this change of plans until one doctor came in and looked at his puffy shoulder with dismay. Then he asked another doctor to come in for a second opinion.

Then they both went outside to "confer." All the blood in my body drained at that moment. I went to a deep, dark place that no mother should ever go to..

When the original doc came back in with news of a new shot of antibiotics for the infection, plus medicine, I burst into tears. "It's not something else, right? I mean, that's not why you called in the second doctor... because there's a reason he hasn't healed as quickly as he should have?"

He looked at me like I had just belched the Ave Maria and said, "If you want to think something dramatic, that's your call. But I'm telling you on the surface what it is: An infection."

I can only hope that my firecracker Pip becomes a doctor one day. I pray that she'll get that man as a patient. And when he jumps to conclusions because maybe, six months earlier, his wife had been diagnosed with something, and he doesn't take things for granted any more, and he's freaking out over some dick rash he got for sctupping a hooker, and thinks he's going to die a terrible death, Pip looks at him and gives him the same words back, "If you want to think something dramatic, that's your call. But I'm telling you on the surface what it is: an infection." .

And when he breathes a sigh of relief, I hope she'll add, "Sadly, we're all out of antibiotics. YOU'RE GONNA DIE." .

* Photo of one of my best friends, Topanga T, with Stink at the beach. She is getting married on Wednesday in Italy to the most darling 24 year old man on the planet. I've known her since I've been 4. That was 33 years ago. You do the math.

I'm so happy for her. She has always loved my kids like they were her own, and never once... not once... made me feel like I'm somehow contributing less to society because my priorities are more home based. She is a true sister who I adore. Everyone, please wish her good luck, pray, spit in water fountains... whatever it is you do to spread well wishes!

Lets Hear it For the Boys!

2008-06-11T20:34:00.000-07:00

So do you know that there are actually a few men who read all my chicky ramblings? Sadly (or perhaps fortunately) one of them is not Rex.

But some do dare to swim in this virtual pool of estrogen. I am going to list them here. Go on over and give 'em some love. Their blogs are great. And so... male. Fishing. Sports. Camping. Books about war. Pheasants. Miniature gaming pieces. Single dad musings.

You men kill me. But I love ya. I give you, with warnings in ( ):

1. Em (Sweet daddy and hubby... ahhhh... If you're fighting with your spouse, read him for inspiration. Or not if it'll make you more mad.)

2. McShowoff (Lots of balls here. That's all I'm sayin'.)

3. Troyboy (Puns galore. Lots of lists. Some radical opinions on rambunctious kids at Dairy Queens and prisoners on Death Row.)

4. Travis Erwin (Super smart. Will make you feel bad for being a lazy ass if you don't read.)

5. Long Island Wargammer (Miniature war pieces and Jesus are his favorite men. Don't get him started if you don't want to listen.)

6. Baldo Daddy (Single dad with music knowledge rivaling Troyboy. I see an internet game of chicken here.)

*** 7. Brad Paisley (Really funny music.)

I hope you find some of these links amusing. If you have a penis, and I forgot you, please let me know.

Photo above of my new pets. Aren't they cute? They don't have papers, but they don't chew the furniture, so I'll keep them.

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.

*** Brad Paisley doesn't really read my blog. But I still love him.

Do You Talk To Strangers?

2008-06-10T17:18:00.000-07:00

I really want to know, because I talk to everyone. All the time. I can't help it. It's probably why I like blogging. It's, as I wrote someone else today, like virtual people watching.

Yesterday, for example, I struck up a conversation with Ninny - the same lady who has been handing me my husband's drycleaning for the past two years. She mentioned something about being married for 50 years. So I asked about how she liked it.

A simple question that some might just answer, "Oh, fine..." But I got instead the following points:

* Her husband has been "in heaven" for nine years.
* She liked being married okay. Good points, bad points. "Asian marriages aren't the most passionate. We're kind of luke warm. It's why it lasts." (Is this true? Any Asian readers out there? Because that kind of goes against what I hear from my guy friends about "hot Asian chicks". Perspective, I guess.)
* She sometimes desires male companionship, but she really digs being able to watch Jeopardy whenever she darn well feels like it
* She owned a drive thru market - several of them - when she first came to L.A. in the 70's. "And did you know gas was only 14cents?" She sold fuel at some of the more successful ones.
* Sex is okay, but stability is more important.
* It costs too much to drive, but with kids, sometimes it's important to say the heck with it and go some place. Time goes by fast.

People, I got all this in 5 minutes. It's amazing. And the more I spoke to her, the more I saw how really beautiful she was. I mean, not that she wasn't pretty before, but it's easy to overlook people's traits in the rush of checking off the to-do list.

If I know one thing, it's that humans like to share. And be connected. Perhaps it's why I blog, to answer an earliar question.

Do you chat with strangers? If not, why?

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.

The Morals in Aspargus

2008-06-09T20:17:00.000-07:00

Every night we say prayers, followed by stories. It's customary to include people we know and events we've attended. Sometimes there's a moral. Often times they are silly. Tonight was no different.

Me: "One day Mommy and Papa and Scooby and Shaggy...

Pip: "And Dora and Boots..."

Stink: "And everyone we ever met in our whole life.."

Me: "...Went to the 99Cents Store. Mommy boughts a red balloon, Stink bought a blue one, Pip bought a pink one and Papa bought a green one. Scooby wanted one shaped like a Scooby snack, but they didn't have any. So he howled and howled."

Giggle giggle from said rug rats as they snicker at my lame attempts at whining like a sad canine. Continuing:

Me: "Shaggy tried to tell him what Mommy tells you guys about not getting what you want. 'You get what you get...' .

Stink: "And you don't get upset."

Me: "Right. Finally Scooby agreed that any balloon was better than no balloon, so he chose a helium one shaped like an asparagus."

Giggle giggle.

Me: "And as he was walking down the street, everyone said, 'Hey, Scoob, cool asparagus balloon! In fact, he got so many compliments, he went back and bought the rest of the asapargus balloons from the store."

Stink: "Yeah! And it cost him Twenty Seventy dollars!"

Me: "Uh-huh. And this time, when he walked out of the store, he was overcome by so much helium that he flew high into the sky. And when they got popped by a bird, he landed on top of none other than a SCOOBY SNACK FACTORY!"

Pip: "And he ate a million zillion Scooby Snacks?"

Me: "You got it! And he was so happy. Because while he didn't end up with a Scooby Snack balloon, he got the real deal, which was waaaay better than he could have anticipated. And that just shows that sometimes what you think is a mistake, and something you really never considered, turns out to be the best thing that could have ever happened."

Given that's what transpired when Stink was only nine months old and I got pregnant with Pip, the moral of that particular store rang very sweet in my ears..

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.

Why Do You Blog? Blogher Conference!

2008-06-08T21:30:00.000-07:00

I have been meaning to ask you all this for some time now: Why do you blog? Or, if you don't blog, why do you read them? Feel free to come out of hiding if you've never commented here before. I promise not to stalk you. Not even if you come to...

Blogher. I'll be there July 18 - July 20. At this point, I'm only attending the July 19 conference. I'm not really into the rah-rah scene, so I'm scared that three days of women jabbering about writing might send me into a coma.

Will you email me if you're going? BabyCenterAndrea@Yahoo.com

Lorelle talks about blogging here.

Meanwhile, why do I blog? A few reasons:

1. It's a fun record of silly events that make my life worthwhile

2. I have met incredible people with similar outlooks on life

3. I have met incredible people with diverse outlooks on life

4. I have helped educate people about things near and dear to my heart

5. It polishes my voice

What do I fear about blogging?

1. That no one really cares about my silly life, and why should they?

2. That one day my kids will be angry at me for writing about them

3. That I don't really say what I want to say, so I'm trivializing my existence and not showing the real me

What do I hope to do more from blogging?

1. I'd like to make some money off my own blog, not just writing for other corporations (Though THANK YOU, Big Corporations, for letting me write for you! I can't believe you haven't fired me yet! Wait... that sounds weird. Back to my original question...)

WHY DO YOU DO THIS? WHY DO YOU READ THIS? Are we all really as narcissitic as critics of blogs seem to think? (Just Google my question - you'll see lots of real "journalists" who think we're pretty lame.)

In closing, my goal is to not hurt someone's feelings with my internet writing. If there was a code of conduct to sign, I'd sign it. Once was enough and I still feel bad about it, inadvertant or not.

So that's it. Who are you? Why do you blog or read?

Did you have a good weekend? Did you bake? Did you have lots of sex? Did you sleep? Did you go to church, temple or a nudist colony? What is up? (If you were at a nudist colony, don't answer that last question.)

* Photo of my silly little Pip. Why? Because I friggin' ADORE her and it's my own little narcissitic blog, so there.

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.

Coming out of My Shell

2008-06-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

Did ya'll know that summer is almost here? This means bathing suits, beer and hopefully some random trips to places without clocks, cell phones and alarms.

Along those lines, I managed to carve out some magical moments with my family this week. Sad that I have to "make time" for it, but as a high energy, goal oriented person, I consciously must say, "Hey, what's the rush? The kids are only young once."

One of our unexpected jaunts was to a local outdoor mall after school today. Unextraordinary was the chain restaurants and Disneyfied ponds with supersized coy fish bigger than the average patron's collagen injected lips.

Extraordinary was Stink finding a random turtle wandering near some construction under an oak tree. We scooped it up, gingerly placed it in the pond, and laughed as it "Found its way back to his mommy!"

Despite days of wondering if I'm really cut out to shape the lives of two little human beings, I'm honored at how many of my childrens' stories

include happy little rugrats and their fearless mommies.

A few nights back, as I stroked my little man's moppy blond curls, I once again told him how much I loved him. "I love you so much, I can't..."

Stink: "You can't stand it!"

Me: "It's true. I can't. Do I tell you that too much?"

Stink: "It's okay. You can tell me that all the time!"

Me: "Even when you're older?"

Stink: "Even when I'm huuuuge. Like...8."

Me: "And what about when you're 11? Even then?"

Stink: "Uh-huh."

Me: "And you won't care if I say it around your friends at school?"

Stink: (pause) "Mommy, let's not do that."

And that answer, my friends, is precisely why I'm taking the time to relocate the lost turtles while I can.

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.

Caffeine Withdrawl/Civilization Withdrawl

2008-05-30T12:14:00.000-07:00

Here is an article about a remote Brazilian tribe recently discovered. Face painted and ready to fight, these indigenous people are aiming at the planes with their weapons to ward off evil. Or perhaps nosiness. Kind of like George Clooney with the paparazzi.

I feel this weird fascination and repulsion by this discovery, as reported by the BBC. On one hand, how intriguing it is to know that people actually do exist without cell phones! And computers! And supermarkets!

At the same time, how annoying that they are being disturbed.

Regarding my Diet Coke abstinence, I can only emphathize with the dude in red, shaking his stick at the shiny metal object above him. "You are a threat. You are mean. You are ruining my peace. Go away!"

On civilization notes, it leads me to wonder what would happen if Rex ever gave up his love for the computer game, Civilization? How would he ever express his emotions?

And on withdrawl notes, which also refer to Rex, what if he had practiced that method with our love life. How would we ever have our beautiful children? How would he ever express his emotions?

Life is complicated. Perhaps that poor tribe is better off in isolation. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Take it easy and happy weekend!

* Picture from the BBC link above

5 days without Diet Coke. But I still drink 4 cups of coffee/day. Baby steps.

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.

Giving up the coke, man

2008-05-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

So, for the millionth time, I am attempting to give up Diet Coke. In the process of going through withdrawls, I've lost my purse (just found it), forgot my jewelry, crashed each night by 10 but have woken up at 2am only to lie in bed for two hours straight.

I'm thinking I'm a bit addicted.

And that's just dumb.

How are you all? Giving anything up these days in efforts to get healthy?

At a Loss for Words

2008-05-21T19:40:00.000-07:00

Since I've had kids, I've lost cell phones more times than Oprah's lost weight. In fact, Oprah has been way more successful than I've been.

Once it fell off the top of the car on the freeway.

Once I dropped it in a toilet at a San Francisco airport.

Once I washed it.

Once I dried it.

Sadly, the last two fates are more than I do with my hair most days.

Being the computer stud that he is, Rex has always been able to replace them via Ebay. Sometimes the ringers don't work. Sometimes they won't take messages. Other times they sound like the inside of the Staten Island Ferry at rush hour. (Not that I've ever been inside the Staten Island Ferry, but I can only imagine noise, seasickness, and my crappy cell phone coverage as one horrible combination.)

I was pretty proud of a two month, no injury record. Until yesterday when my lucky streak ended. I couldn't find my phone. Bad.

But I called the market, and they said one was turned in at the exact time I lost it! Yeah!

So I figured I'd do dishes before the grand cell phone reunion so when Rex came home for his big reunion with the family it didn't smell like a Tuscon truck stop.

I turned on the disposal - recently fixed - and hear a clunk clunk cluuuuuunk.

Can you guess what was in there? I'll give you three guesses. If you get it right - you win a mangled cell phone!

PS: Thank you all for your well wishes on the Terminator gig. I have heard nothing. NOTHING. I really didn't expect to. This is about the 10th time location managers have photographed our home, and then they never call. My poor house - it's going to be so rejected once again. (Hey, maybe that's why the disposal ate my cell phone.)

Studying for my mid Term...inator

2008-05-19T23:21:00.000-07:00

True email written to Rex today, right before the kids and I crashed out for a late nap.

" Hi babe. A location scout from The Terminator just came by and took pictures of the house. They are interested in using us for filming. It would be a six month gig – Sarah and her son’s new home. It would pay (insert ridiculous amount where we'll probably sign our lives away but if we could actually replace the laminate from the photo, and maybe our 1974 toilets, it'd be worth it.)

They like our casa because it is “very Americana” and “non-descript.” “Clean” but a place where “terminators could hide in peace.”

We've had location managers here before, but never has a Terminator crew come to the home of an actual living Terminator - my little robotic Rex. He would be stoked. I'll keep you posted. But probably not in detail. If we get the gig, I'm sure we'll be signing away all rights to speak or we will be detonated.

How's everyone's Monday?

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.

More Rumblings from Me

2008-05-19T01:45:00.000-07:00

I know I just posted about the beach below. And not to get out of a lovely, carefree mood, but the fact is that 50,000 people have lost their lives in China. In other parts of the world, Tsunamis have wiped out entire villages. Poverty and war ravage other countries, while in other places young girls are being taken by their mothers, raped and killed.

I know how damn lucky I am. And without sounding too pious, I thank God every day for what I have. Why I'm so lucky, I just don't know.

Hope all of you are safe. That your families are safe. And for those of you with family and friends in the military, a big hearty thanks goes out to you for keeping my kids free from want.

It's Hard to be a Beach...

2008-05-19T01:00:00.000-07:00

....With days like today. Just look at this beautiful sky! The weather was glorious. The sun was setting while my kids joyously dug tunnels in the sand. There was no fighting. No screaming. If there was, I couldn't hear it over the crash of the waves anyway.

With Rex out of town, Topanga T and her fiance' joined us last minute (just three weeks before the big Italian wedding). They brought their puppies - endless sources of amusement for my own little mutts.

After splashing in the water, Stink found some sunglasses and Pip found a pink headband. Forget God's landscape - Pip has accessories! The day, very unplanned, couldn't have been nicer.

Well, one thing could have been nicer. I could have walked up the steps to my fabulous pink BEACH HOUSE instead of dragging my sand encrusted butt into my stinky SUV to head back to Smog Land.

Other than that. I'm not bitter. Someone has to live in paradise. My only consolation? I get a view of my kids each day. Let some Hollywood rich folk have the ocean, the sunsets, the dolphins splashing in the waves, the smell of the salt air the... the... Okay, I better stop before I see where I can sell toddlers online to buy some beach front property.

Hope you had a great weekend. I owe many of your sites visits. I'll be there tomorrow. Unless it's sunny and I ditch you for the ocean again. Hey, life's a beach.

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.

My Freedom - Myth Busted!

2008-05-15T16:22:00.001-07:00

I've officially named Wednesday as Andrea night. This means I get the kids to bed at 6:30, spend 30 minutes with Rex for dinner, then get the heck out of dodge. Being myself only, not a wife or a mom, is important to me. Nothing wrong with some alone time, but if I don't schedule it, it won't happen.

Last night, I was out the door at 8 and went walking with Mrs. V. at the mall. Wow - do you know that people actually shop retail? I mean, there were pants in windows going for, like $99 and up. There were no "Red Tag Salvation Army Specials" and no homeless people with shopping carts bartering for the Dora the Explorer handbag right next to me.

After sweating up a storm, I realized that the whole night was mine! I could Ebay all night. Or write. Or watch videos! I was going to sleep on the couch and be my own woman!

But instead, I grabbed an extra large Diet Coke and headed home. After watching Myth Busters with Rex, we called it a night together by 10:Pm.

Ever find that it's not the act of doing, but knowing you can do something, that makes all the difference?

Drawing a Blank

2008-05-14T18:04:00.001-07:00

Today my sister and I took my mother out for lunch - her first day using the walker instead of a wheel chair for movement. I have only three things to say about this grand event:

1. Given that it was my sister and myself who were right next to her when she broke her ankle in the first place, this only proves that a mother forgives all sins and places no blame.

2. When my mother couldn't maneuver her way up the curb, a hot, bald and muscular man resembling Billy Blanks offered to carry her up the step. She accepted. He wrapped his arms around her waist, thrust his head under her arm pit, and lifted her gracefully up to the sidewalk. She was elated. I was furious, however, due to my final comment:

3. Where's my camera when I need it?

The ABC's of BBQ

2008-05-04T20:42:00.001-07:00

Today it was warm out. We took the kids to JPL for an open house where Stink and Pip got run over by a robot. Literally, they sprawled down on the floor while a rover pummeled over their small frames and they just laughed and laughed, operated by two techs young enough to be my sons.

If only I could be so submissive when the so-called boulders of life come at me. Instead of running for cover, "Dear God! It's coming for me! Duck! Run for your life!" I should really just smush face down on the earth and let it pass right over.

And so, after JPL, I tried that. When Topanga T's boyfriend called out of the blue to ask, "Interested in some beer and hanging out" I didn't say my normal, "No, I have to food shop and clean the house." I said "Yes, come on over. With a 12 pack. And yes, bring your dogs."

And so they did. Rex cranked up the stereo, Pip blessedly slept, and Stink ran abandoned his movie for the much more pleasant option of writing in chalk on the back yard patio table, in between pilfering watermelon off my lap. I mean, it was so nice to relax, I didn't even other to put it in a bowl for others. "You want some? Here's my tub o'melon and a plastic fork. Come and get it." Classy, real classy.

Later on Cecelia and Finn stopped by. They left before a fabulous meal of heated up spinach, peas and veggie burgers, but they can read about it here.
In closing, this week it's going to be about taking a breath and chilling out. Less coffee, more beer. Less chores, and more laughter.

Though I do want to finish the windows in the house. They are driving me NUTS. I'm trying to chill. I am. But it will be easier to see the world with perspective if I don't have handprints and dog licks on the first four feet of every glass surface. So sue me.

Talk to you tommorrow!

Ex Husbands and Boys Man Enough For Barbie Slippers

2008-05-03T16:53:00.000-07:00

Stink, Pip and I checked out the opening of a local firehouse today. They had never been to one before, and after today, they're certain to want to go back. Although they'll no doubt be disappointed when there's no jumper, no live band, no food, trucks on display or a climbing wall. "What? Just, like, firetrucks today?"

It was a hectic morning of fighting with Rex, the kids at each others' throats and the sad realization that I was, yet again, late with my credit card payments. Rex is so timely, if he were female, he wouldn't even be late for his period, despite being pregnant. He's just annoyingly perfunctual and practical about everything. Which is why we have a home and savings and food on the table and why I am clearly the biggest whiner on the planet. I'd take a class on how to be more grateful, but I'd just be late, so what's the point?

With all the dumb irritation of the morning, it wasn't until we arrived at the firehouse that I realized Stink didn't have shoes. Luckily Pip, who had on a princess dress and purple ballet shoes (because you can't ride a fire engine without sparkles) had an extra pair of Barbie slippers. He had a choice: Wear the blond or go home for his own sneakers, cutting his play time in half.

You can take a guess what he chose.

Between the shoe fiasco of 2008, and an emergency bathroom break post firetruck festivities that forced me to leave the car in the middle of a local park n' rec lot while I raced to the mens room, only to be interrupted mid-operation by a football player needing to use the facilities, the day was eventful to say the least.

Rex met me later at a local McDonalds where we didn't talk about credit card bills, vacation plans or how a last minute trip to Costco for a hot dog is too spontaneous for him. Stink can't eat hot dogs anyway, and if we went, I'd have to admit that I don't have the cash I thought I had due to a late payment on my credit cards, so it was a good time to just let it go. We held hands while the kids burned off the rest of their energy, ensuring an early bed time tonight. Gavin, the 10 year old down the street, is coming over at 7 for the first time to watch the kids while they snore. His only concern? Can he watch the NBA playoffs. After today? I don't care if he watches porn, as long as he doesn't tell his parents and keeps my kids safe so I can reconnect with the man who I sometimes forget about in the heat of my go-go-go crazy spinning brain.

Speaking of going out, I had better get the kids' dinner ready while they knock around a balloon the size of a kiddie pool that Pip intercepted from a 20 year old fireman in training. Pip: "I don't want a baby balloon. I want that biiiiig one on top." He looked at her in disbelief. "Pleaaaase?" she coyly offered up, then gave him a wink. No joke. He was defenseless.

Oh, for those of you interested in my ex-husband's blog, you can give him some love over there. He's single again with the most handsome boy in the universe, so if you know any hot women that don't mind living in Austin, give the man some props.

Though here's the warning: His blog platform is on Vox - One of the most difficult blogs to sign up for and comment on. I hate Vox. That's the reason I divorced him all those years ago. I mean, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was young and dumb and not ready to do my own laundry, let alone pay bills like an adult. No, not that.

And finally, happy wedding day to Mrs. V's sister in Florida. Hopefully V's kids made it down the aisle without staining their tuxes and she is now happily buzzed on martinis.

Happy weekend!

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.

Lots of Balls in the Air

2008-05-01T22:25:00.000-07:00

Some of you wanted to know about the yellow ball in the last post that looks like a cross between a dog treat and a bomb. I have an answer for you, and it's not the most titillating.

Though it can be used with tits.

It is none other than... a massager. That's it. You stick in a battery and it kind of shakes. I'm seriously considering giving it to my kids for a bath toy. Though the fact that it came from a sex store is a bit creepy, so maybe not.

Speaking of sex, a few weeks ago I went into an adult store for research. I figure if I'm going to write 3 posts/week on sex, I've gotta come up with some better material than how foreplay in a Southpark "I Killed Kenny" tee shirt is not as exciting as it's cracked up to be.

I brought a friend with me from church (ha, there's some irony in there) who had never been in a "toy store" - or so she says. To prove the point that once a mother, always a mother - despite big intentions to rev up the sex life, I give you the following example:

Friend: Wow, look at those vibrators. They are HUUUUGE. What's the big yellow one called?

Me: I believe the correct name is "Ouch."

Friend: All I know is that I had better start finding something new for my husband. We've been so bored and... LOOOOOOK! Batteries in the vibrator aisle! Those are perfect for my son's new light saber!

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.

Greetings from the Crotch Queen

2008-04-29T21:53:00.000-07:00

So I stole my title from fellow BabyCenter writer and friend Kim Moldofsky who attended Camp Baby earlier this year. Hosted by Johnson and Johnson as a vehicle to show blogging moms their products, she apparently came home with a ginormous load of freebies, including a life time supply of K-Y jelly. Word on the street is I'll be getting some, too. I have never used it, but I will attest to this: Sex lubricant is one item I won't buy used.

Speaking of sex, my Good Housekeeping blog occasionally gets comments from people other than perverts, teenagers and mad men whose wives kicked them on the street for their porn and fast food habits. One commenter in particular was Diana Jerome who sells products for an internet toy company. Ahemmmm...

She asked if I was interested in buying some of her products. I told her if she wanted to send me some free samples I was indeed interested. Cut to one week later - this is what I got today!

As I cracked open my pistachios and drank my coffee, I went through the box. Rex drank his glass of milk while perusing the catalog. It had everything from racy to very mild, like the cream pictured: X-Scream. I immediately opened it up, applied it to my lips, and then looked at Rex, who laughed:

* "Oh my God! That is why they do animal testing. For bozos like you who just try stuff without bothering to read if it's even for your lips in the first place. They're exploding! Oh no!"

He's upstairs now. I hear the shower running. Too bad my products are down here! Ha ha ha!

Anyway, thanks Diana.

** If any of you want to reach her, you can here or email her at diana.jerome@slumberparties.com

Asterik translations:

* No, neither of us believe in animal testing. Relax. It was a joke! (Nor do I believe in some of the animal prints in the catalog. Matching Tarzan outfits? Sorry Diana. No Rexs of the jungle at mi casa! But the other stuff was intriguing.)

** Yes, I just did a blatant plug for someone's business. Why? #1. I got free stuff. #2. I like Diana. I don't know her. But I like her. And #3. Good for her for leaving me a comment and following up. Why don't more of us women put our necks out there? If we don't ask, we don't get.

So there. All done! Now go to her website! Or not. As for me, I'm going to bed with my new Basic Instinct pheromone mate attractor. I think if I rubbed beer on myself and played Star Trek theme music, that might work, 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.

Twisting Through Life

2008-04-28T21:13:00.000-07:00

I hope none of you had family affected by the big Virginia twister. I'm waiting to hear from a friend about his mom who lives there part time. I'm sure she's okay, but you never know.

And by "friend", I mean "ex-husband". Not that this fact has any merit other than some salacious intrigue, but with life so short, why not throw it in?

My friend has a blog himself. I'll wait to see if it's okay that I share it with you. Baldo's dad, are you there? Do you want one million women hopping over to your site? Now's your chance! (Okay, one hundred women... whatever.)

On other breaking news, my mom is now able to walk to the bathroom in under an hour, thanks to her healing ankle. By Friday she should be able to write that novel "Around the Block in 80 Days". Look for it in big print at a store near you.

* Side note: My mom got a call from her 80 year old brother with this thick Jersey accent. "So, sis, are you feeling better? It's so great to find out about your busted foot through your daughters blog!" Hi to any and all of my fellow Eastern clan that read this. I hope I make you proud with all my talk about tics, poop, sex and Mothers Animal cookie excess. Not necessarily in that order. Write when you can.

Today, my son had these minor vocal tics - kind of like light "beeps" and I was feeling like the crappiest mom ever because they were driving me CRAZY. And really, it's not his fault. So I didn't say anything and tried to think positive happy thoughts. Unfortunately, the thoughts kept being interrupted by annoying beeps so I wasn't really winning that game.

Side note again: Stink, if you ever read this down the road, know that I love you to pieces. I promise to give you lots more to hate me for than working through my noise issues. Like the time I'll show up at your First Communion training dressed as Barney. That'll teach you to steal that chocolate.

People, the truth is, my son is fine with a few tics. They really are small. It's ME that has the issue. I need to get over it. I really do. Because honestly, it could get worse, it could get better. What he needs is a mom who 100% loves him no matter what. Which I do. But I don't need to get so crazy over it. I need to have some faith in what I'm doing. Which is a lot. So that's enough of that.

Tonight, along the lines of dealing with differences in a positive light, Stink picked out "Don't Cry Big Bird" as a bed time book. It was a new one, but as fate would have it, it was all about how Big Bird feels different and cries about it. But his friends all do nice things like make the hop scotch game bigger. Or all of them sit on one side of the see saw so he can bounce with them. The moral: Difference is not that bad. You just need to adjust and move on.

Yeah, I didn't feel stupid or anything.

My Ren Fair Lady

2008-04-24T01:56:00.001-07:00

I might have mentioned that we went to the Renaissance Fair a few weekends back. Kind of dusty, kind of dirty, but all around a great time.

It's nice to let out steam. It's not saving the world, but it saved our sanity. Pretty darn good if you ask me.

Tonight my best friend from kindergarten, Topanga T, came over at 4 so that Rex and I could go to the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion for My Fair Lady. AT & T sponsored the event - the same people who sent us to Jersey Boys last year. Free tickets, parking and dinner? Yeah, I know how lucky I am.

While the actual choreography, sets and talent were outstanding, I have to say that I hated the storyline. A gruff professor grabs some poor girl off the street, teaches her to speak nicely just to win a bet, is verbally abusive to her (and threatens to hit her), and alludes to throwing her back on the street when he wins.

Then she gets mad and leaves him. (Yeah!) Then she misses him. (Huh?) Then he treats her like crap again. (Baffoon!) Then he misses her. (Too late, buddy.) Then they get together. (Oh, not too late after all. Now this "lady" gets to live with a tramp after all. How romantic.)

I probably have thought about this too much, but that's my opinion.

Do we all have some gutter mouths in us? I do. That's for sure. Do we all have some ladies in us? I hope so. I bet you male readers hope so even more! Dumb joke. It's late. Moving on.

All I know is that I hope Pipsqueak knows better than to fall for some guy who treats her like an object. I'm guessing if he ever asks her to speak into a horned shaped recording device, she'll tell him to take it where the sun don't shine. Not even the rain in Spain will dislodge it.

Thief! Thief! Give Me My Normalcy Back!

2008-04-15T09:59:00.000-07:00

Thank you to those of you who emailed me outside of this blog. It's been a little bonkers around here. Some good stuff, some not so good stuff, some bizarre stuff... Like my cooking, let's just throw it all out there and let you taste it for yourself. Insight, humor, or insults all welcome.

div>

* Stink's EEG: The upside? Stink has normal brain frequency. No epilepsy. That means that when he tics, it's just that... tics. I'm relieved, though of course, it would have been nice to have a cause. The downside of the EEG: It's now official that my HMO is the worst health insurance on the planet. Well... that's not true. If you're healthy, it's terrific! If you're a 5 year old boy about to get electrodes placed on his head, it's not so great. Example: Stink (to the tech, after asking her five times and not getting his questioned answered): Will this hurt? Tech: No. Stink: Are you sure it won't hurt? Tech: I can make it hurt.

* Kindergarden for Stink: Downside: We did not get into our first choice charter school. The luck of the Irish, the luck of the Jewish and the luck of the English (all my background) were NOT with us. Charters here are done in a public lottery. You either get a good one, or not.) Upside: We got into another! Entreprenuer business school! No joke! Taught by strict Russians. (Think thick legs, thick accents, shouting...)"We will not stop until all our kids are Harvard bound!" Holy Moly. Free tuition, small classes, personalized curiculum. I'm there. So he has a business plan at 5. Whatever.

* My Good Housekeeping Blog: Upside: It shot to one of the top spots and was syndicated by Yahoo in their new female driven platform Shine. Downside: Yahoo uses tags like "dominatrix" and "sex slave" to get traffic. And so a blog about my responsibilites called "All Tied Up" will get horny men living in the middle of nowhere (or next door to me... who knows) who find my face next to the word "spanking". Terrific. And needless to say, when they find out it's a tame blog about romance and marriage, they're pretty mad. The comments are not exactly pleasant. As far as getting my writing exposed? Great! But being personally exposed? Not so much. I signed up to write about marriage and sex, not be associated with bondage.

* Yesterday. Upside: I drove my mom and the kids to my sister's to go swimming. It was sunny! And breezy! Perfect! Downside: Until my mom didn't see a really uncommon thing my sister has near her driveway called A STAIR and fell down. Hard. Broke her ankle and everything. Ambulance. Fire Truck. Couldn't move. It was so! Much! Fun! She's getting a cast as I type.

* Tonight: Upside: I'm going to dinner with Rex since Stella is here! Downside: I have to first return a wheelchair to a friend and get my mom home and get the kids to bed and... and...

* Tomorrow: Upside: Stella gets to take the kids to school. Downside: I get to go right back to the same HMO that I just went to last week for Stink's EEG, and yesterday and today for my mom's ankle, because she's having major eye problems and is going to get drugged up. I can't wait to see her on a martini and Vicadin.

With this week so crazy, not sure what will happen about my plans tomorrow. I was supposed to go see this new documentary about Tourettes at UCLA. It has been planned for over a month. I so rarely go out at night. I got a sitter and the whole nine yards. I know that Stink has such a minor case compared to what's highlited in the film, but I'm dying to meet the top docs in the field who will be there. I'm hoping to work my "getting to know you/invite me to your house for a Diet Coke/look at my cute boy if I need your help later I'm calling" magic.

On top of all this, the kids have been terrific, but soooo sneaky. I have so many stories about Stink it's not even funny, but I'll share later. Let's just say that I wish these devices, from the Rennaissance Fair last weekend, were mine. I could use them.

I owe so many of you visits. Don't leave me! I'll be back...

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 bite out of life

2008-04-07T22:21:00.000-07:00

So tomorrow I am taking Stink for an EEG for his tics. I want to rule out epilepsy. I don't think it's absence seizures, but given that his bad eye rolls are a bit disconcerting when they happen (which luckily are less and less these days) I'm not taking any chances.

The good news is that since we've gone gluten free for good, I see some remarkable changes. He rarely tics like he used to. But... I'm scared to say this... it could be the cycle of the tic. What if after knocking my socks off they come back? Am I just kidding myself?

Or am I simply eating healthy so it's not a big deal? Other than I might be causing more stress with the constant "Yes, you can have a cookie, it's just sugar... but no food dyes... and that hotdog? Sure... but no bread."

What if I do all groundwork and it doesn't do a damn thing but make me the butt of some college story where he's like, "My mom used to drag in wheat free pizza to every Chuck E. Cheese party from the time I was 5. It suuuucked."

I'm holding my ground though. Do we walk around feeling sorry for the Jewish kid who can't have the cheese burger? No. He doesn't eat milk and cheese as part of his culture. It's accepted and we make adjustments. So Stink and the family will have to make adjustments to my crappy cooking, too!

What choice do I have? At least with the diet I feel like I'm controlling something.

Ha. Like I have control over anything anymore.

And now what I lack control of the most? My heart. It loves these kids so much I could cry from the emotional overload of it all. And guess what? Today I did.

But better now. Thanks, Mom.

* Photo of Stink eating gluten free corn spaghetti. Rex spent an hour on the sauce and made tons of extras. I told him that the kids wouldn't eat it and to make the pasta seperate. His response: "If I'm going to eat fake noodles, they can try my masterpiece." Clearly Stink hated it.

How are you all? I owe so many of you visits. Honestly, I'm in outerspace right now with too much going on. But I think of you often and will poke in soon. Make way! You can't escape!

Peas & Thank You's

2008-04-01T22:55:00.000-07:00

I recall watching Maria Shriver on Oprah last year promoting latest book on motherhood. She said that what she remembers most about growing up was not what she was given materially, but what her parents taught her about life and thinking.

Dinner time was not about "What did you do at school?" Since Dad founded the Peace Corps, it's not surprising that it was about "How can you use your talent at changing the world?"

Shriver drove home the point that sitting together at the table is more than food for our bodies. It's food for our souls.

Take last night for example. My son dropped a green veggie in my water. I thought it would be a great opportunity to school him on saving the planet, but settled on teaching him bad jokes.

Me: "Hey, don't pea in my water!"

Him: (Confused look)

Me: "Get it? 'Cause it's a pea. And you shouldn't pee either. It's a double entendre. A joke! That we say at home - never at school. Especially not during circle time. Or when you're practicing the sign of the cross. Jesus and veggie jokes - not a great combo. Though it worked for Veggie Tales. But I digress."

He looked at me in a daze. Oh well. He'd understand later.

I got up to get water. Just when I thought my material was going to be wasted, Rex sits down. Stink drops a green veggie in his water.

Stink: "Hey, I peed in your water, Papa!"

Papa: "Cute."

Stink: "Get it? PEEEEED!" Guffaw, chuckle, hee hee heee.

Papa: (Serious) "Very nice. But no toilet jokes at dinner."

Stink: "You mean you didn't flush before touching your noodle?"

(I showed amazing restraint at that one.)

Papa: "I mean no talk about pee, poo, or anything related to the bathroom."

Pip: (Suddenly piping up, huge brown eyes, all earnest) "And no talk about diarrhea either?"

Stink is now hysterical and Pip, though not sure why, joins in the merriment.

Papa, to quote a book I just read, morphs into Ward Cleaver. "No talking about anything that exits from any orefice. Which means hole. As in your body. ENOUGH."

There's quiet for a minute.

Stink: "But if we really have to pee, that's okay, right?"

Rex is speechless now. But he had to admit, Stink did have a point.

I'm not sure if this was the kind of "thinking outside the box" Shriver was talking about, but it's a memory for me, that's for certain.

You've Got Hate Mail, Part 3

2008-03-29T22:25:00.001-07:00

After finishing up a post on approval addiction for BabyCenter, I happened to check my Good Housekeeping site. I don't do that often, since their comments are kind of messed up and people have trouble posting. But... they have a new platform, and with it, comments are working. Which means all the crazies are coming out of the wood work!

Here's a super one that made me all warm and fuzzy right before bed. Who needs a bath after this:

The title: Is Living A Cliche Painful?

I'm female and I love watching Star Trek with my husband and numerous other "geeky" things. I deplore Meg Ryan movies and anything involving Julia Roberts (really, that woman should be stopped...intelligent women everywhere should take up a petition and get some sort of ballot initiative going). Some girls LIKE sex and LIKE video games and some of those naughty girls grow up to be naughty women who ready naughty comic books and Kurt Vonnegut and openly laugh at women who read AND/OR write for Good Housekeeping. But, I digress... Honestly, this post defies words. I'm sick of running into women who perpetuate tired stereotypes and try to turn the world into some strange neovictorian, Disneyfied nightmare where "soccer moms" and "nascar dads" really DO exist and breed legions of breathtakingly ignorant (yet somehow "honor roll"), squeaky clean children. Do you want a better sex life? Read banned books, question reality, enjoy your passions and hobbies without fear that they aren't "motherly" enough, free your mind from the box, and for once embrace the fleeting moments of your feable existance with a romp between the sheets.

Aren't people swell?

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

* Photo of the best dessert on the planet. And by dessert, I don't mean the pie that goes in the crust. I mean just the crust. By itself. Mmmmmm... I might have gone through 2 in a 24 hour period. I think, like the crazies that comment on the other sites, it's best to stop counting calories after a while. Happy weekend!

It matters to me

2008-03-25T22:07:00.001-07:00

As some of you might know from reading my BabyCenter blog, I've been dealing off and on with my son's tics. He has a combo of motor and vocal tics that have lasted over a year, hence his Tourettes diagnosis. Most times you would never know he has tics, and other times, they're more obvious.

I vacilate between being open about his Tourettes and keeping my mouth shut. After all, his issues are his, not mine. But at the same time, by keeping it hidden, what good does that do? Don't most "disabilities" only get more accepted with an open mind, love and support?

What I've found the most frustrating about Stink's situation is that just when he seems to be doing well, he gets a bad bout of eye rolls or coughing tics. Some of it is food related. We're having him tested. Some of it is excitement based. But alot of it is just the nature of the tic.

If you're interested in reading more about Tourettes, you can find it here.

I can promise you this: It is not as bad as the media makes it out to be. And more people have it than are even diagnosed with it.

The main thing I'm trying to remember is to not get stuck in the "let's fix this" mode. Tourettes is a neurological disability in which certain wires get crossed. Tics change in nature from eye rolls to shoulder shrugs to blinks. It doesn't mean a person is going to bark and curse like our lovely media loves to portray. It simply means that sometimes they get tics.

Medication helps a lot when a child is older. For now, we're using homeopathic techniques. And we're lucky, because tics or not, Stink is about the most popular kid on the block. They don't affect him at all. At some point, if the tics continue, kids will ask. I'm thinking of getting a tee shirt made for him, "I have Tourettes, What's Your Excuse?" but again, that might be in bad taste. The verdict is still out.

Sometimes, like the past few weeks when his tics were not so great, I feel an overwhelming sense of sorrow. It is hard to see his outside not match his inside. I worry about his future. This boy is so open and sweet and bright. I would DIE if someone made fun of him for something he couldn't control.

But don't kids get made fun of regardless? Or am I just making myself feel better? Maybe, but what choice do I have?

I'm trying to remind myself that a child with Tourettes with strong parents and confidence is heads and tails over a child without Tourettes but no self esteem. And sure, I can be upset at times. Who wouldn't be? But my child is perfect just because he is here. He is not a Tourettes kid first. He is a kid who is the light of my life, smart, funny, sensitive, talented, adorable. Oh, and he has Tourettes.

Tonight, he had his best friend from school come over. As always, I never see such joy on Stink's face as when he's with this child. There's no such thing as tics with these two kids. It's all about muddy mudpits, cars, Scooby stories, begging for pizza and laughter.

I'd love to hear from any of you who are experiencing the highs and lows of raising a child with an unexpected diagnosis. Because really, no one has everything.

And, as Meno once said, "No one gets out of here alive."

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.

Our Lady of Leopard Prints

2008-03-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

My friend Cecelia joked once, in support of a slew of hate mail at my Baby Center blog, that the only damage I'm going to do to my child is the fact that I dress her in a lot of leopard prints.
That made me laugh.

It also made me think because, until she said that, I had never really considered the designs I was choosing for Pip. I've always loved spunky stuff, and given Pip is quite peppy, it seemed to be a natural fit.

But it does make me wonder: Is she a funky diva because Mommy has always dressed her like the inside of a Tiajuana bargain bin, or is it her natural inclination anyway to wear rainbow legwarmers and pink gloves in summer?

As Pip gets older, it's important for me to set aside what I think she is - a firecracker who will take the fashion and medical community by storm - and encourage her to be who she wants to be. Maybe that's a quiet ballerina librarian? Maybe it's a short haired truck driver? Maybe it's somewhere in between?

It's not what I want her to be, but who she wants to be, that really matters.

The same goes for my son. For Easter today, for example, we sat in the big church for the first time. According to some of my friends, running laps with Cheetos in hand in the "crying room" is not the equivilent of a spiritual experience, so off to the big pews we went.

It went well. Not only did I enjoy hearing the beautiful music, but I actually heard what the priest had to say. When the mass was over, I asked Stink what he thought. His response was pretty direct, "That was boring."

I'm sure for a little dude, an hour of sitting still wasn't exactly fun. But I really believe, in my heart, that he'll thank me for it one day. I'm banking on the fact that even if he rejects Christianity, he will find some peace and understanding through God in some way. Even my non-religious friends have agreed that there's some solace in the structure of a mass. That taking time out for family/God/whatever is your thing can only aid a child's development. That being part of a community is a nice gift to leave your kids.

Again, the idea is to lead Stink and Pip him toward something, but ultimately it's their decision.

Now if my daughter wore leopard prints and mini skirts to her First Communion we might have a problem. Until then, I'm going to take it day by day...

Meow and happy Easter. Happy Passover to those of you who celebrate that. For those of you who celebrate nothing in particular, thanks for always coming back to me and letting me be me.

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.

I Want A Weekend Do-Over

2008-03-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

Did any of you play handball as a kid? Remember when the ball hit the line at a certain angle and you could call, "Do Over!" That's what I want to do with this past weekend.

The good news? Rex came home on schedule. We grabbed a quick lunch together before I had to get the kids. Nothing like a little In and Out Burger to soothe the soul. I forgot how nice a shoulder feels, also. Almost as good as a Diet Coke, but not quite.

All the Diet Coke in the world wasn't going to make me get into the charter school of choice, however. After attending the public lottery, and even shuffling cards, Stink got space #173 out of 200 applicants for 30 spots. Even if another kindergarten class opens up, it's not looking good.

So three hours later, I left. To find a parking ticket on my car.

Then I came home to another message about another school that didn't work out.

And then I was supposed to go on this corporate sponsored paid trip (which to be honest, I was nervous about as I'm a terrible traveler, but damnit, I was doing it!) But then they overbooked so I don't get to go.

And then I discovered a new wrinkle on my face.

And I can't jog 2 minutes without wanting to curl up into a fetal position on the front lawn. Of course, two minutes out, it wouldn't be my front lawn I'm curled up in. Which might make the neighbors a bit skeptical of the giant snoozing near their "Kiss Me I'm Irish" sign from the 99cent store.

Speaking of Irish, Happy St. Patty's Day! And think good thoughts for the Italians also. In addition to being a pain in the neck, Stella actually HAS a pain in her neck and doesn't feel so good. Think good thoughts for her! (And Stella, just kidding about the pain in the neck part. You know I love ya and will drive out next week for Spring break so I can sleep on your couch while you ignore your shooting spinal pain and watch my kids. I'm nice that way.)

May the luck of the Irish be with you all! I'll chat you up tomorrow because, well, damnit, it's going to be better! If the worse thing that happens is I get turned down from one good school and have to send my kid to another very good school, I'm thinking I hate no right to complain.

But I will anyway.

Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Okay, done.

* Image of my kids with their cousins. It was taken last year and has nothing to do with this post at all except that, well, I'm lucky to have them so close by. Given they are Jewish, I will wish them the equivalent of St. Patty's blessings and shout "The Luck of the Hebrews!" Oy and out.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found here. Look for me at GoodHousekeeping.com in mid January.

Two New York Husbands

2008-03-13T23:13:00.000-07:00

I watched a brief news show tonight on the Spitzer scandal. In looking for a link, I got sidetracked by all the tee shirts being sold which I won't justify with a promo. Just 24 hours after someone's downfall, another person is making money. If that isn't capitalism at its best, I don't know what is. Not that I can blame anyone in a way... it's just odd.

What I find interesting is that in one building in New York is a husband whose wife can't wait to come home. (That'd be me. Who is freakin' TIRED.) In another building in New York is a man who is locked inside with his wife for fear of being swallowed alive by the media. (Um, for something else being swallowed earlier. Bad joke... I know, but I had to go there. And I'm guessing that she's not exactly writing him love notes right now.)

What I really want to know is: How did this guy think he could get away with it? And more than that? The hookers alone, what about all the money he swindled?

And what I'd like to know even more is what the heck would you do if you found out someone you loved was cheating on you? It's easy to say you'd kick the man to the curb, but say it wasn't a public humiliation. Would you? I know one of my readers as talked very eloquently about surviving an affair. It's not always easy, but she did it.

My first reaction to Rex cheating would be disappointment. Not at the sex so much. But at the fact that after all the things that might irritate me about Rex, trust is something I have never worried about. THAT would be the hardest to get over. Because if he did that to me, then what could I count on in the world? Friends that could move? Family? People that could die? Rex's stability is the one thing that never ever changes, and if he cheated on me, that would rock my world. And my favorite joke would go away. "Rex would never cheat on me... he can't multitask."

What about you? What do you think about cheating? What would bug you the most?

* Photos sent from Rex tonight. In a way, I could kill him. They are such beautiful buildings and I'm not there to see them. I plan on living in a highrise like the one shown some day. And as far as the church, I had to laugh. The closest he's been to one in years is driving past one in a hurry, clicking away from the company car.

Help! My Husband is Cheating on Me!

2008-03-11T22:34:00.000-07:00

Got ya with that title, didn't I?

I'm frustrated to hell with my email - who I can only refer to as my other husband as it supports me throughout the day with its general "how ya doin's" and '"what's up's" and never ending to-do list.

Also, like my other half, it sometimes decides to take a big stinky dump when I'm least expecting it. (Sorry, Mom, for the poop reference.)

As it turns out, I'm not getting some emails from folk, and some of it's not even showing up in my Outlook's spam. Nor my Google spam. Does the fabulous spam monster keep every note known to man about penis enlargement and "How to get bigger boobs in 3 days?" Sure. But notes from people I might actually care to hear from? Not so much.

Anyway, if you commented recently, and it's not showing up, nothing personal. I hope, like my busted walls and messy messy office, to fix it soon.

Meanwhile, may you delight in these photos of summer fun! Even though it's barely Spring in L.A.. But my kids, and the family dog, didn't know the difference. (Dog's name is Boo Boo, but my son calls him "Rover". Long story. And, like a poor step child, he spends most of his time with Grandma but occasionally does "sleepovers" here. When Rex is out of town, he stays more often. When the cat's away, the dog will play!)

Regarding the light, fluffy, California frolicking - some of you might want to kick my ass as you freeze your way through April. But my kids have a squirty octopus, a busted Slip N Slide, and a new 15.00 white rocker purchased at my favorite thrift store, and I'm so happy about it, I just don't care! Not that I'd get your wrathful email anyway with my computer as it is.

I also scored a Persian rug and a new couch - the total coming to less than 98 buck-a-roos! Yeah for me!

But my server is being trecherous and awful and sending my emails to other mommys instead of me, so boo for me.

But I'm an optimist, damnit, so I'm going to leave this on a good note! Um...... I don't have ear wax! I just cu-tipped!

Happy days. Even if I never hear from you again.

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.

Settle Down, People!

2008-03-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

Rex is out of town for a week. With a full schedule ahead of us, I kind of feel like that cover of Home Alone. Cue me, hands around my cheeks, big wide expression, wondering what the hell I'm going to do.

Sometimes I don't feel that way. I'm pretty independent, and have been known to go for up to two weeks without batting an eye. But when your mate goes out of his way to be nice to you - not in the way that he finds is important - but the way that you find important - well... it makes you feel kind of sappy.

Here's the odd thing about marriage: You want to find a man that lets you be you, but if you're too much of you, then you feel like you're missing out on the "we". But if you have too much of the "we" then you're missing out on the part of the "you" that used to radiate and shine that made you, well, you. And so, like with everything, there's... yes, I'll say it again... balance.

I'm kind of scared to write this down, but we've found that recently, and it's been nice. Three weeks ago? Not so much. Funny how life can switch over with a little down time.

On a related note, there's a very interesting article here that talks about settling in marriage. It's called "Marry Him: The Case For Settling For Mr. Good Enough." I found it through Rachel Sarah's blog - a writing colleague at BabyCenter. While Sarah refuses to settle for the reasons the author, Lori, writes about, I can see where Lori is coming from. In fact, such reasons on my part led to a huge falling out with someone at one point in my life. What I've learned is that this is a very touchy subject - this idea of settling. Because everyone has different reasons for it, and different definitions of it. If settling means not traveling much anymore, and buying a condo instead of a house, or not getting a dog because the dude is allergic to cats, or whatever, then it might not be right for you. If setting means giving that stuff up in return for something else you want more, then that's cool, too.

What gets people into hot water is when two sides of the coin argue for their choice, because it's very difficult to defend one side without incriminating the other.

As for me, I settled for the good things and let go of the others. Sometimes I am frustrated by the constraints of marriage, and other times freer than I've ever been in my life due to a wonderful support system.

As of right this second, I can only be so grateful for the man in my life who has loved me for who I am since the day he met me. He might disagree with my choices on many areas of life, from finances to our views of entertainment, but he never disagrees with who I am as Andrea.

Today he surprised me with a nice note from New York. "I love you and am so happy to be meried to you." A speller he is not, but I love him just the same. And since he is an I.T. manager, not a copy editor, it doesn't really matter. You can bet your sweet ass he can spell every alien on Star Trek though.

What are your views of settling? Is there such a thing?

* Image taken of Rex during our Hawaii trip almost ten years ago. Pre kids, pre marriage, pre his trip to my hairdresser for a unibrow removal - his one job before the wedding. I guess I can't complain he's too anal when he allowed a woman twice his age to pour hot wax on his Italian arches. Ahh, Rex. Miss ya, buddy.

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.

More Tushin' For the Pushin'

2008-03-04T23:28:00.000-08:00

Some of you already read this in my BabyCenter post, so please indulge me when I write that, as of today, three days later, the whoppee cushion is still a never ending source of amusement for my Stink and Pip. Given to them as part of a goody bag from a party, let me tell you that I have never seen either of them laugh so hard, and so long, in their entire life. Stink literally guffawed so hard in the SUV that I thought he'd cough up a lung.

They have gone from simply blowing and squeezing out air (smaller, longer gas) to running and landing on them (quick farts!)

Yesterday on our walk, Stink left Snoopy at home in favor of his new "tushie cushion." Everyone we'd pass by, he'd shout a hearty hello of welcome. Stink: "Hi! My name is Stinker? What is yours? Betty? So, Betty, want to hear a really cool fart?"

Who could resist an intro like that? One ripper was all it took to get the neighbors chatting. We heard stories about their youth, how their kids loved those, how they haven't seen those since the war.... Who knew that a fart bag was such an equilizer? Perhaps all our political candidates should start out their debates with a good squeeze of the tushie cushion.

Happy Tuesday. May you have enough gas and laughter to get you through Friday.

* Blondie is our babysitter. She's as sweet on the inside as she is cute on the outside. No joke. I want to hate her, but I can't. Besides, she loves a good blast from the cushion as much as I do. How could I diss that? Even her dog dropped his chew toy to smile at the fun.

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.

A Diet never looked so good...

2008-03-03T15:47:00.000-08:00

1. Why yes! Those are Diet Coke earrings shaped into hearts dangling from my ears. I found them waiting for me today from a little Rabbit Run Cottage gal residing in Ohio. Thank you, Susie Q! I love them so much!

2. Why yes, that is about the closest up photo of me you will ever see. Now you know who to look for if you plan on going to BlogHer this July 18 - 20 in San Francisco, CA. I will add a link later. For some reason, Blogger won't let me. It's probably confused by the extraordinary size of my noggin.

On random notes, my kids won't stop screaming, my sister-in-law just birthed the cutest child on the planet, and I spent a lovely morning visiting with both my sister-in-law and the other cutest baby on the planet, her neighbor's new daughter. I really want another child. But since this is about as likely to happen as my husband becoming a born again Christian, me becoming a Trekkie, my son giving up his passion for Scooby or my daughter being rendered mute, I'll have to make due with other people's spawn. Perhaps at Blogher! I hear lots of people come with babies attached to them! Maybe I'll sport a Baby Bjorn also. You'll know it's me because instead of lugging a newborn, I'll be carrying a liter of Diet Coke.

Fun to be had by all.

Now are you coming to Blogher?

Oh, look! It linked up! Yeah! I'm so excited! Is it because I have only two hours until the kids sleep, or because the caffeine is sinking in! I don't know, but yeah! And bad for me for typing when my kids are home. Off to pay attention to them. Bad... bad Mommy!

Excuse me, I'm being witchy...

2008-03-01T13:50:00.000-08:00

Wednesday was one of the best days ever. For the first time in a month, both kids were healthy and I could drop their cute little butts off at school. What would I do with five hours of uninterrupted alone time? I predictably ended up at my favorite thrift store, of course.

While perusing CDs, I came across a child's tale called "Baba Yaga". It's a Russian fairytale about a little girl named Vasalisa who, after being nice to a cat, a dog, a tree and a gate, is saved from the evil witch, Baba Yaga. It seemed perfect for my little Scooby Doo fan and fairy tale princess. It wasn't a traditionally marketed CD. No production house or fancy cover, but for $2.99, I could be a sport.

Let me tell you - it turned out to be an amazingly orchestrated tale with awesome sound effects. The witch, by far, was the best character on there. I kept listening to this actress cackle and howl and sing and thought, "Wow, there's a reason I write and don't act. I could NEVER do that. She is gooooood."

Cut to Thursday. I pull up to a friend's house in Pasadena. She is actually a woman who used to produce the show I wrote for. Think Barbie at 45. She became a mother for the third time a few years ago when her brother, before landing in jail, got a girl pregnant. Word on the street is that moms addicted to drugs aren't the best parents, so Barbie, an avid Scientologist, took over. She also recently got married. So now in addition to being a writer, producer, and new wife, she's a mom.

What is so interesting to me is that while we always liked each other, we probably wouldn't be hanging out if it weren't for her son. But motherhood is the equalizer. 5'3 barbie doll mom? 6'1 shellpy blogger? It's all the same when you're wiping ass.

So I show up, and say, "Pipsqueak, tell Barbie about the witch you're listening to in the car..." and before I can finish, Barbie says, "Baba Yaga?"

I couldn't believe it. "Yes! How did you know! That's so random!"

Barbie: "That's my best friend, Penny Wiggin's project. She made that 8 years ago when she was broke living in Hollywood."

Now is that a small world or what?

So of course, Barbie calls Pennie, who cackles into the phone for my kids, "Hellooo, little dumpling balllllls! Are you being good or do I need to eat you!!!!!!"

My kids, who will have a conversation with a washer/dryer, would not go near that phone. "Get her off!" they shrieked, running for cover under the birch tree.

Barbie and I laugh, then go on to compliment Penny, telling her that it is the best CD ever. It's true. So much talent! Penny is so thrilled. Now an actress doing very well at a Las Vegas vaudeville show, she's ecstatic to see that her early years were not wasted.

"Where did she find the cd?" she asked Barbie.

"At the bargains bin at the local Salvation Army!" Barbie answers.

That probably wasn't what Penny wanted to hear, but she was happy non the less. Hollywood gives you a thick skin that way.

Any whooo, how weird, and convoluted, is that story? I mean, is that a coincidence or what?

Besides that strangeness, I've been working a lot, babysitting in my off-hours for a few friends. I'm hoping to go on vacation later in the year, paint my walls, organize my closets, lose 5 pounds (really... gonnna knock it out this time) and spend more time with Rex. I'm also attempting to not computerize while I'm with the kids, and it's working out okay, but not perfectly. So far, though, they still love me and don't want to trade up for another mom. I mean, who else would drag their butts to Disneyland on a Tuesday and have more fun than them? Oh, let's not forget I'm going to re-do my look. Because I'm tired of the unibrow, stringy hair do. Worked for Sissy Spacek, but not for me.

I'm not an overachiever or anything, am I?

How are you all??????

Time Flus By When You're Having Fun

2008-02-21T14:14:00.000-08:00

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!

2008-02-20T15:56:00.001-08:00

Have a great day!

You've Got MORE Hate Mail

2008-02-18T20:11:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-16T15:30:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-14T22:13:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-07T18:11:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-02T13:25:00.001-08:00

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.

Lets Talk About Privates, Shall We?

2008-01-30T21:32:00.000-08:00

As in school. Get your heads out of the gutter, people.

My kid is going to kindergarten next year. I'm not sure if I want to fxx him up by paying 8 grand a year and having him get beaten up by nuns, or paying nothing and having him beaten up by kids on the playground.

Am I being a bit dramatic? Moi? The writer whose brain can't just look at an owl without screaming Smart old man! Geriatric! Gerry's doing tricks? Who's Jerry? Tom and Jerry. I hated that show. That poor mouse. He was always getting so hurt. I hope my babies never get beaten over the head with a tire iron at school.

Which leads me back to my question: What are your thoughts on education? Private or public? I'd love to hear. All of the little voices in my OCD dramatic brain want to hear.

Kiss kiss.

* Image of Stink this past summer. That face. I love it so much I could squeeze it and smush it and gush it all gushy and squeeze his little tushy and... um... I'm thinking that won't help him remain target free from the bully's on the playground. So... I'm... starting to... detach.

Help?

Scratching the Surface

2008-01-26T22:00:00.000-08:00

I'm tired of our livingroom furniture. I've had it since before I even knew Rex. And though a change would be nice, the tables and sitting pieces are in reasonable shape. Sure, there's a few scratches on the wood, and stains on the couches. And it's less elegant than I'd like. But compared to what others don't have, and a myriad of other updates our 1950's home needs, this should be the worst of my problems.

Adding to the slight irritation I feel whenever I enter my "formal sitting area", last week kicked my booty. Between work, school, rain, Stink's fifth birthday party, and random events I could have done without, I was done.

And so, when I found myself shopping with two cranky kids at Costco on Thursday - shutting my eyes at the delicious leather sectional and five hundred dollar book cases, I put down the turkey roll-ups I was going to serve at the party. Instead, I set a bouquet of pink and white carnations in their place. Not for my mom, or my girlfriends, or a surprise for my girly girl firecracker. For me.

When I got home, I put the food on the counter. It could wait. The first thing I did was cut the carnation stems down just right, watching them bunch happily in their vase as if to say, "It's raining! It's pouring! But look at us! Like a bucket of candy Valentine hearts!"

Three days later, they still pop out at me when I walk in that room. I like them so much, I forget to be irritated at the furniture. In fact, instead of disliking my livingroom, they seem to tie it all together. A lovely mixture of older time pieces with new life.

Isn't that true of all merry distractions? That sometimes, if you focus so long on the flaws, you forget the beauty of what you have? One little change can suddenly make everything not only bearable, but often times delightful.

I have made a committment to myself to buy flowers once/week. I can get them at Costco for $8.99 or $14.99, or even a local flower shop for less. The point is that I'm worth it. I'll post a photo each week for accountability.

How about you? Anything you are irritated about? Any way that you can focus on what's beautiful, as opposed to the scratches and stains in your life?

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.

Kicking Some Ass

2008-01-23T21:11:00.000-08:00

A true conversation between Stink and Rex tonight. I was folding towels, Rex was hugging him good night.

Stink: Papa, did you know that Ella at school doesn't like me anymore?

Papa: Really? What happened?

Stink: I don't know. She says I pushed her. (Pause) But I didn't. But that's okay. Because Mommy says girls are crazy sometimes.

Papa: What else did your mama say?

Stink: She said that one time she was mad at you and told you that she didn't like you much, but that you said she was silly.

Laughter from both.

Papa: Is that all you talked about?

Stink: No. She told me that even if girls don't like me, or sometimes my eyes do a little tic, that I'm still perfect. Because God made that way.

Rex: Well, you are perfect. Anything else she told you?

Stink: That I'm cute. (Pause) And I'm going to kick some ass.

Stayin' Alive

2008-01-22T19:51:00.000-08:00

Hello, people. I am, unlike Heath Leger, alive. (Is that sad or what? Geez, the guy was only 28. I don't know the scoop, yet, but whatever it is, he left behind a little girl. That's just a bummer. My heart goes out to his family.)

Along those lines, I'm feeling sort of melancholic today. While I've been happier than I've been in a very long time, I can't help but notice how fast everything's moving.

Just this weekend, Pip had her nails and hair done for the first time. It was for a dress up party, and while I hesitated to let her participate due to her age, I'm glad I brought her. There was no make-up involved. Just a little glitter and a hairdo. She could have chosen a rock star or a fifties girl, but she chose to be made up as a princess. (Shocking, I know.)

While I found some of the store accessories over priced (The homage to High School Musical and Hannah Montana was enough to make me want to grow a mustache and never leave my home again) Pip's elation at her little transformation made all the candy coated pop girl music worth it.

You can look at these beauty stores (aimed at young girls) two ways: 1. We're pushing the Barbie mentality at way too young an age or

2. We're teaching them early that they are worth something. That it's not a crime to take care of themselves. As always, it's a fine line.

This brings me to the point of this post. My living, as of the late, has been thanks to the computer. I have met so many people, and had my writing exposed in a way that pre-internet days never would have been possible.

I can look up health concerns on the internet.

I can find recipes, directions, and phone numbers.

It's just... I get scared. I want my kids to know how to use a mouse, but I also want them to have the experience of holding a real one. I love that I have friends due to my blog (I really really do - thank you) but I also want to not forget the people that live next door to me. I love the fact that I can get to a new city thanks to Mapquest, but I fear my kids won't ever enjoy the experience of finding a new coffee shop on an off beaten path because they got lost.

Will no one ever get lost anymore? Will we all be so tuned in that, God forbid, we lose our internet connection, we have no way of being connected?

I'd like to think it's all about balance, but I still get wonky. Because there's no more playing out until dark. There's no more hiking in the hills for fun. There's no more walking to school and long days creating stories out of refridgerator boxes. And assuming I do give my kids a refridgerator box, is that one more day they're missing of learning something new on the computer that's going to high tail them into the next level? But what level? And what's the point, anyway, if they get to the next level but don't have their feet on level ground?

Am I making sense?

I think it's just the many hours of work lately kicking my butt. It's time for me to go walking, sweat, and get some perspective. Because right now, I've lost it.

And, to make myself a complete hypocrite, let me say that while I fear techonology taking away the finer things in life, I don't know where I'd be without it. It's really saved my sanity. Just a comment here and there from you, when I've been down but maybe not been as open as to what exactly is going on, has meant more to me than you know.

Signing off. Time to reboot my brain chip. I will write more tomorrow and check in on all of you. Miss you, love you, bla bla beeeeppppppppppppppppp.............................

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.

Good Soul, Bad Shoes

2008-01-17T15:22:00.000-08:00

I don't have many clothes. It's no one's fault but my own. I need to shop, and for some reason or another, I haven't found the time. This is going to change. In February I turn 38, and if I don't have at least 38 pieces in my closet that I adore, cherish, can't wait to wear, than stuff is going down more than that hooker on Hugh Grant. (Oh, shut up. That was funny.)

In addition to my lack of decent threads, I own the worst shoes ever. And, to add insult to injury, I saw a dog on the sidewalk yesterday who was wearing ruffled shorts and leather booties. No joke.

Only in L.A..

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.

Its Up to You, New Dork, New... Dork....

2008-01-10T20:10:00.000-08:00

I have always blamed my hubster for being the computer dork, but turns out it's me.

Rex has been in New York since Sunday. It was a good week for him to be gone, because instead of wandering upstairs with him at a reasonable hour to keep from crashing like Sonny Bono the next day, I crammed in overtime on the computer to get some posts done for my new job. Now that I'm up to date, I'll get to write them in a more reasonable fashion while the kids are in school.

Which leads me to the point of the post: Do you know that it's possible to spend your entire life living a virtual life? No - SERIOUSLY.

It took me 3 years, 2 days, and 1.7 minutes to come to that conclusion. Right now, with bloodshot eyes, I'm there.

And so, with no further ado, I'm making the following vow: No writing unless the kids are in school. No Ebaying unless the kids are in bed. No last minute checking the Pay Pal account or Union Bank. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to end up on the street if I'm .28 cents short one Tuesday.

Today I forced myself to just... step... away.

It was hard. The cel phone is still a distraction. And the email. But you know what? It was nice. I couldn't be as happy as I am without my daily does of internet connection - pun intended - but it felt nice to touch up some paint in my house (even if the color is off so now I have to redo the whole room...arrrrgggg) stick my feet in the park sand with Stink and Pip, and eat dinner at Mrs. V's.

I was such a good friend by telling Mrs. V I'll bring two things to help her out: 1. Cranky kids 2. Nothing.

I will be checking with your posts throughout the weekend, but I won't be writing until Monday. I'm thinking the world will live without the minute by minute update on why I should be exercizing, but the muffin top keeps getting fluffier and fluffier. And I can't understand who's sneaking into the house at night and shrinking my jeans!

* Note: I break all vows of silence if Pipsqueak wins the Regis and Kelly Most Beautiful Baby Contest. Yes, Mom, I sold out and pimped her out... errrr... submitted her tonight. It took over 20 minutes to upload because every other mother on the planet thinks her kid is the cutest child alive also and has no shame. Photo above.

Argument back to those of you who would never Britney Spears your child. A) I'm no Mommy Spears. B) I am a full believer in giving girls confidence from the inside (no troubles with Pip, believe me). The world is a competitive place. If Pip can get $125,000 for a college education, I'll take it. (Hell, I'd take a 1000 Walmart gift card, too. Even if I only got 10% as the "agent" fee, do you know how much Zoloft that could buy?)

Yes, I know the odds are against me, but luckily, my girl IS THE CUTEST! Next to yours, of course. So....

It's not to late for you! You can submit your baby at the link above! But if you win, I get a 20% referral fee. Hey, it's da biz, baby!

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.

Toys R Bust

2008-01-09T23:10:00.000-08:00

I am never going to feel shopper's guilt again.

I am not a big gift giver, and while I don't normally worry too much, the holidays got me this year. The Ele-uxx-em? Check. Crash and Go Racers? Check. Baby highchair set? Check. Gifts from family and friends including art supplies, Scooby balls, clothes, games... Check, check, Checky check check.

What do the kids do?

They fight.

They tease each other.

And then they are finally quiet for over an hour.

With what?

A three dollar snow shaver from the Salvation Army.

Go figure. After money spent on things they don't use? That's cold, man. But the fact that the simple pleasures in life are free? That's ice to know. Yes, you read that right. I'm friggin' tired. Good night! Speaking of ice, it's freezing here. Stay warm, wherever you are!

More of my writing can be found at Goodhousekeeping
and Babycenter. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. Drop me a line and say hello. Or don't.

Sex Secrets from a Dirty Housekeeper

2008-01-07T20:17:00.001-08:00

So guess what? Rex is out of town and I'm friggin' more tired than my pancreas trying to process the huge tub of pistachio green icecream working its way through my intestines. My insulin is screaming, "Damn, girl, we're tired. Have you heard of water and a few slices of cheese. WE HATE YOU."

The other news: I'm in Good Housekeeping! Yeah for me! My little mug will be in the February issue of the actual magazine with a short bio pointing me to the online site (which started today).

The good news for Rex: I'm making some real money for a change!

The bad news for Rex: I'm talking about our sex life.

Actually, it's about our lack of sex life. Newsflash: Married people sometimes don't have as much sex as single people. If they do, it's not as exciting.

And, not to alienate my good Christian women following (because those of you who know who you are have really helped me along my little journey of faith - big kisses to you) even if you didn't have sex until your wedding night - after your bedtime prayers - with a Bible next to your bed - word on the street is that even you aren't holy rolling around the sack as much as you might have when you first got married.

The column is about why sex takes a back seat to everything else in marriage. It will challenge our expectations as women, and hopefully bring to light some very real issues many of us are facing. There's a place to comment, so feel free (sign-up takes less than a minute.)

Even if you love me, but you think I'm off base in my column (ex: You're having more sex than ever!) then by all means, let me know how. (But I don't believe you. And Christian or not, lying is a big fat NO NO.)

Right now I have two posts up and one bio.

I also included 4 sites that I read a lot, and one of them is our very own Liv and Pam.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Thank you for letting me be me. I'm excited to have a few new gigs now, but Pass the Zoloft is always my home.

Now go avoid sex by reading my column instead!

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com & Good Housekeeping. I write under the name Andrea Frazer. And I ramble. Deal with it.

I've Been in Dee-Nial Too Long

2008-01-03T21:50:00.001-08:00

Everyone has this cousin or friend they can't live without. You know, the ones that make you laugh, know your favorite foods, can tease you about ex-boyfriends and remember your kids' birthdays.

Everyone also has those cousins or friends that sometimes they want to live without. The ones that know too much about you, such as the time certain foods in Tiajuana made you throw up more than Robert Downey Jr. on a bender. Or the love of your life that turned out gay. Or the time your prom date left you last minute for your best friend and you had to go to the dance with a Morman usher from your local movie theatre job that came up to your tits.

In my case, this person is both, and it's no other than Dee. Shalom, Dee! Yes, you're getting your tribute! Thank God for Dee. It's nice to talk to someone and tell a "Melvin" joke (my deceased dad). It's gratifying to know someone cares about you enough to really make you laugh (such as dumb books with our faces imprinted over celebrities) or piss you off. (In my case, she was banned from being in my first wedding for having the audacity... er... forward thinking to say, "You know, you don't haaaave to get married.")

Truth be told, Dee is above and beyond the best friend anyone could ever ask for. She's also irritating enough that she might have reminded me more than once that she's never been mentioned in my blog.

And people, she might know me, but I know her like the back of my Diet Coke can (In our case, another Melvinism, I know her better than my "dietetic soda".) Ex: I intentionally did not put up a photo, because this is what I'd hear:

"Oh my God, could you find a bigger picture of my ass?" or....

"Why did you put one from 'The Craig Years' up?" or...

"Wait a minute... is that the shot right before the DJ hit on me or when your drunk brother-in-law demanded the DJ play "White Wedding?" Wow, your second marriage did a lot of good for my ego. Remeber that guy Jim? What happened to him?

I instead will post this photo, a tribute to her never-ending ability to buy the perfect gift. Even if it's just a talking Scooby card that my son played Over. And over. And over. I could kill her for it, but I love her for making such a hit with him. And here's her response to that statement:

"Of course he loved it. Lord knows you wouldn't spend the 4 bucks on it. Someone has to. Dee Dee will buy his love!"

And let's not forget...

"Oh... Stink. Look how cute he is. But why is his shirt untucked? And why is his face so chapped? And go empty the trash! But seriously, Arfie (that's my name - no joke) you're such a good mom. Joy to the World! La Chaiem!"

Who's your Dee Dee? You know you have one.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found here. Look for me at GoodHousekeeping.com in mid January.

The Magic of Five

2008-01-01T17:58:00.000-08:00

Take a guess:

1. I lost the final 5 pounds

2. I haven't had a Diet Coke in 5 days

3. I had 5 Diet Cokes today

4. My kids fell asleep at 5, giving Rex and I 5 hours to ourselves

5. Rex finally got that reversal, making me pregnant on Xmas eve, and turning our family of 4 into a circle of 5

6. The Jackson 5 just shot a reunion tour video on our cull de sac. Michael only winked at 5 kids this time.

7. Lindsay Lohan dropped by a few minutes ago, giving new meaning to the word "high five"

8. I just won five thousand dollars in the "Who can eat the most Mothers Animal Cookies without puking more than 5 times" contest

9. I transistioned from Catholic to Muslim and now bow five times/day to Mecca

10. My New Year's baby turned 5 today

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found here. Look for me at GoodHousekeeping.com in mid January!

It's Ele-Fuck-Em!

2007-12-30T16:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, the game is called Elefanten. But my kids call it Fluff a Lump. And based on how crappy it's made, I call it Ele-Fuck-Em.

I know this is vulgar. My New Year's resolution is not to curse. I have a BS in English, for fxx's sake. But I'm also fed up with the BS of these toys that charge us out the wazoo and don't work.

Lucky for me, not even the toy industry can get me down. Why? Because here's my 2008 attitude: Be happy for what I have, not what I don't.

And so, while I don't have a husband who buys me diamond earrings for Christmas, he's the master of toy building and all things electronic. Who got to go to church - alone - this morning while Star Trek Captain Rex ruled the savage alien toddlers? Me.

And then, just to be a comlete geek and hero, he saves the day again. Check out the photo: the fan in the Fuck-E-Lump didn't blow the cheap pieces of ca-ca butterflies out the shoot fast enough for the ADD video game move move it move it faster faaaaster FAAAAAAAASTER generation known as our children. So what does he do? Take it to the garage, open it up, re-wire a few parts, add a charger that plugs into the wall (as opposed to batteries that die) and Voila! What we have, my friends, is one ninja-fighting-butterfly-blowing-windtunnel of an elephant.

If only I could find the positive side to my triple layer mama belly. Winter warmth? I'm still working on that one....

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Having a Ball

2007-12-27T21:14:00.000-08:00

The other day Stink was getting dressed. He was in such a hurry, he forgot his underware.

Me: "Are you going to put on your underpants, or are you going to free ball it?"

Him: (Pause) "Freeballing? Is that going naked in Spanish?"

Grandma Got Run Over by a Fruitcake

2007-12-26T20:43:00.001-08:00

Okay, not really. But my mom really loves fruitcake. Personally, I'd rather be run over by a reindeer than eat one, but to each her own.

Did you all have a nice holiday? I did. I really really did. From Xmas eve at our house with Rex's family to dinner at my moms the next day, it was awesome. A lot of work, but awesome. Rex and I discovered that we really like cooking together. Translation: I buy the stuff and he hovers over the stove like a chicken over her eggs while I crack jokes and follow directions, but it works.

A quick nod to my mom. What I love about her place on the holidays is how comfortable it is. It doesn't matter if you're wearing your pajamas (Stink), a pink heart tee shirt with faded pants (outfit a la Papa - he tried), or Jesus shoes paired with jeans and a beer sweat shirt (that would be my fashion nightmare hubster again.)

Everyone brings food, everyone cleans up, and everyone eats too much, tells too many dumb jokes, drinks too much and makes a lot of noise. There's the inevitable talk of religion, politics and who died that year. There's the inevitable talk of movies, family drama and who was born that year. Old friends are staples, new friends are welcomed, and the family dog is always ready for a hand out. (Though not so much this year, for in addition to new friends came a new dog, courtesy of my cousin. This black purse-sized lap puppy runs a close race with my kids for being my mother's favorite, so I'm keeping a watchful eye.)

One of the highlites of the evening was clearing off the kids' table, only to have it replaced with a Dora the Explorer themed Candy Land. It was like watching old gangsters bet for dough - the competition was thick. There were tears of loss, shouts of joy, attempts at cheating and toddler cursing. "Oh, maaaaaan!" (Moms of Swiper the Fox fans will get that quote. People who don't, count your blessings.)

My family is far from perfect, but I always feel love when I'm there. I'll miss the house when it sells, but the memories and traditions for my own home will always remain. It's there, in that rambling ranch, that I learned about the importance of community, being together, being myself, story telling and food. Above all, the food.

What are some of the things or places you enjoyed this year?

* Photo of Pip, Stink and their two cousins who live a mile from us. They range in age from 3, 4, 5 and 6. Let's just say that it gets a bit wild when the sugar sets in, but it's worth it. I hope they have great memories of Christmas Day gaming, hiding under the adult table, and the time the toilet overflowed in the back hallway bathroom. (If you didn't know about that, Mom, you do now. Wooops.)

Oh Christmas Three, Oh Christmas Three...

2007-12-22T19:21:00.000-08:00

It's true what they say. It comes in threes, such as:

1. Death. Bless the Soul of my Aunt Joan, my cousin's Aunt Edie, and Dan Folkelberg. I'm not saying they all have to be related to us, just saying it happens. And seriously, this is selfish, because all of them mean something to someone, but Aunt Joan is the one I miss. Another post is warranted for sure on this great lady who never failed to send me a birthday card with five dollars, a hand painted portrait or a just a funny story about the time she peed like a race horse on the highway during her trip across country. She was 80 at the time. My cousins took photos of the damage on the desert sand. We're all real classy that way.

2. Wisemen. I have to say, though, if I'd have just given birth in a barn, and three men came in with with more jewlery on than me, I'd be pretty darn mad. And how much you want to make a bet that if that happened today, Joseph would drag at least one of the men into the home office to check out the new DSL cable?

3. Days before Christmas. THREE DAYS.

How are you all doing on that? I was doing pretty well until today, 'round 11:15. My father-in-law came by unnannounced with a gift for my husband. And I'm glad he did. He's welcome anytime. But let's just say there were pots in the living room where Rex and I were figuring out our traditional Italian Christmas soup, laundry on the stairs, cars all over the tv room and dishes in, on and around the sink. I started to scurry to tidy the magazines while he used the bathroom (which I can't promise fared much better than the kitchen) and my husband just looked at me, with two words, "Why bother?" He was right. I sat back in defeat and alternated between sipping cold coffee, reading Clifford the Firetruck Dog to Stink, and watching Pip "Stop! Drop! & Roll!" like a drunk on a bender.

Then I had to get the back lawn toys up for my husband to mow. Because it's Saturday. And he mows. Every Saturday. And I have to do my part to keep our lawns looking like Dublin Ireland. It's a nice fake-out for when people come into the house and it looks like the inside of a tent city.

After FIL left, I did the laundry and decided that the load of ironing that was supposed to be done for Christmas Eve would last a few days more. Matching plaid pajamas instead for the kids? It's not their finest fare, but it's pretty darn cute, so be it!

In trying to get out the door to pick up my Christmas cards at Costco, Stink insisted on walking right into the sprinklers. So now I'm facing a potentially sick kid AND late Christmas cards. Joy to the World!

The only thing Rex wanted was the ingredients for his soup. While dragging two children around traffic more crazy than the media about Jamie Lynn Spear's pregancy (Poor girl - leave her alone!) I did the dry clean run, the warehouse shopping, the card pick-up and the groceries for the rest of the week. The ingredients for the soup? Not so much.

I was going to get Scooby wrapping paper for Stink and Strawberry Shortcake for Pip. I had grand visions of wrapping them with vintage ribbons in front of my fire, glass of wine in my hand, dog at my feet. I don't have a dog, but it didn't stop me from dreaming. Instead, I wrapped their gifts while the kids bathed a few feet away. I used the Same. Paper. I. Use. Every. Year. Snowflakes for Pip, the reverse side of a winter wonderland for Stink. (I'm hoping most of you readers know that Santa doesn't exist. If not, I give you Reality for 500! My gift to you this year!)

It's 7:15. I'm off to the store now for soup base. Am I stressed? Not really. I've had a super holiday this year. I wish I'd done a bit more baking. I wish I had my family photos up, or a family video done. I really wish I understood my husband's love for this game he's playing beside me, "Command & Conquer." But... I have food on my table, people in my home in lieu of new photos, a husband that's cooking the Christmas Eve feast and a life's motto of Comand and Conquer, so it's not so shabby.

We are lucky to have so much. As always, thanks for the gift of you, lovely readers!

* Taken a few days ago. Why am I the only one ecstatic to be with my kids? If this is how they feel now, what's it going to be like when they're teenagers? Scowls of death? Hooded masks? Rotten kids.

PSS: I'm hoping next year to replace the 1980's coffee stained mini-blinds with those tissue style folded doo-hickeys that look like roman shades. You know what I'm talking about? Good. Otherwise, I'll be the one scowling next year.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

You Don't Bring Me Flour....

2007-12-21T00:29:00.000-08:00

Lest you all think I walk around all day in a perfectly clean home smelling of cinnamon (see prior post), let me let you in on a little reality: In order to spend 15 minutes alone - that's 8 minutes snapping photos and 7 uploading them to my server (less time than it took to conceive these little stinkers) my children turned my kitchen into a made for cable tv movie, When Sugar Cookies Attack.

Under normal circumstances, I'd make them clean it up themselves.

In this case, the destruction was so vast, and so spread out, I knew that their "help" would only spread the calamity further. Like the Plague, or Paris Hilton's jail sentence, isolation was truly the best option.

And so, as much as I'd love cutesy wootsy little flour footprints all over my newly scrubbed wood floors, I opted to have them wash their hands and plop down on the couch.

My husband's only comment when he walked into the kitchen? "Making cookies?"

Oh, yeah. He's a smart one, that Rex.

Mama P, On Tour in Your Town

2007-12-19T15:43:00.000-08:00

Hello all -

Susie Q of Rabbit Run Cottage has the absolute loveliest post in the universe where she opens up her home to us for a virtual cup of Christmas cheer. It's from December 16 and can be found here, along with a fabulous soundtrack of vintage and modern tunes to warm the heart.

Gretchen of Good Enough for Now does a fabulous job here. In it you can find a link to BooMama's site who inspired the craze. I haven't read Boo myself, but I hear she is incredibly talented.

And so, with very little sarcasm (that will come tomorrow, I'm certain) I give you my home.

The new additions?

The little cork board squares I found at Office Depot. I put them on my front door as reminders for busy weeks. What life savers they are.

The Advent box in the dining room courtesy of Costco.

The hint of welcome mat at the front door. It's shiny and welcoming. The other one was more wrinkled than Robert Redford.

The plants behind the log pile. Rex planted those in spring. I thought they'd be nasty, as I pictured a cape cod type look with an anchor and rope fence. But I shut my mouth and am glad I did. (Just as he took my word on the chocolate brown bathroom paint and red door - he likes it now. He's the outdoors man, I'm in the inside gal.)

The pinecone on the front hall table decorated by Pip. Stink has one somewhere around here also.

The computerized frame from Rex from Mother's Day. I LOOOOVE it. Have you all seen those?

The old?

My mom's Spode on loan for Christmas Eve (The bitch wants it back. Wink wink.)

The tree is from Stella's friend in her community replete with vintage ornaments.

The Grinch comes via my mother from a few years back where I almost got kicked out of a play area for a mommy brawl.

The rocking horse on the table is right out of my childhood. His head comes off all the time, but I love him so much.

The wreath is from my childhood also.

The tablecloth is from my childhood. (Are you sensing a theme here? Um... I'll have to get a few new items this year with Cecelia. But I do love me some vintage, so I don't care.)

The wood is from my husband. (The wood pile, you pervs!) He keeps us warm in winter. He keeps himself warm by hogging that green chair from my apartment days. Wow, that was a big purchase from Macy's back in the day. The pillow courtesy of Salvation Army. Note to self: Get the chair steam cleaned! Good God, what is that stain from? (Oh, no, it's not that.)

The bathroom I painted myself (thank you very much.) Rex did the woodwork and painted it. The medicine cabinet is from Target. I might have flirted with the cashier at Salvation Army and scored the rose handmade needle print picture (notice the double mat and real wood frame) along with ten shirts and a little gift for a friend, for under 20 bucks. Merry Christmas to me!

One year, I'll have a present under the tree for each of you. Until then, Happy Holidays from the bottom of my heart.

PS: Sorry about the wonky spacing. For some reason Blogger is going nuts. No matter how much I put in spaces, it sucks everything into one big paragraph. Ah, well. Like Santa, you'll just have to believe...I tried.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Weaving the Infusiloom

2007-12-18T20:00:00.001-08:00

My daughter has this curly hair that knots and ties more than a Boy Scout on a fishing trip. I try to be gentle, but before the brush even hits her head, she screams like Tom Cruise at a Scientology convention.

My husband, on the other hand, has this brilliant ability to take the "Papa brush" and smoothe out the ringlets. She smiles and coos and winks at herself in the mirror like the little narcissist that she is.

I'd like to give Rex props - that he's just an amazing father who has that special touch with his little firecracker. But unfortunately, the sad truth is that, after so many years of watching Star Trek, the Borg has finally entered his I.T. spine. While touching my little howler, he is somehow transferring his alien voo-doo, rendering my traditional hell-cat into a helpless little kitten. Poor Rex might be off duty a few months as he's forced into the decontamination chamber for a virus update.

I'll keep you posted.

Who Laid the Yule Log?

2007-12-07T21:09:00.000-08:00

Sorry, Mom, but that's a funny title.

This might be the season of love, etc., but there's a lot of craziness in the air. Holidays bring out the best, but also the worst, in people. I might have sent out a few crazed vibes myself this week so it's time to take a chill. I'm not sure what that means, but it better involve my butt in a pair of sweats and some tennis shoes. I'm thinking this coffee and sugar deal, combined with hours in front of my computer, with dishes in the sink and no plans for the day kind of equals disaster.

And so, I present to you my goals for this weekend to get my act into tip top shape.

....

......

.........

..............

I got nothing.

* Photo taken of Pipsqueak this afternoon. It's sugar Friday, which means we eat a few items we don't normally indulge in. Today it was chips. Given my bugger fell asleep with her hand lodged in the package, I'm thinking it was a success.

Note to self: vacuum car.

Note to self again: forgive yourself for not doing it because, come on, you know you won't.

Red red whine....

2007-12-05T09:16:00.000-08:00

So yesterday wasn't the greatest day on the planet, but I survived. And in celebration, I'm taking the kids out of school today. We're going to Disneyland! Yep, sippy cups with organic milk for them, sippy cups with red wine for my best friend and me. Ooooh, the magic of the season.

Hey, if you need some good writing and some dance-a-licious tunes, I present to you, the fabulous: Valerie

And now, I'm off to wear mouse ears and act silly. "And what makes this different from any other day?" Oh, just shut up.

And Mom, thanks for everything. Much much better today.

Snark The Herald, Angels Bling Bling...

2007-12-02T20:21:00.001-08:00

I've read alot in the past few days about holiday guilt. Seems like a lot of women feel like they're doing it wrong every year. They are not good with cooking, or they don't have their decorations up yet, or they don't have the energy to go to a party, and on and on and on...

I wonder why we're like this? Is it all the ads that come in our mailbox? Most of us are the first to say "I know that's just a fantasy life," but has the media industry still warped us into thinking that anything less than perfection is a failure?

I ask you all this: Who said we had to do anything? I, for one, LOVE this season. I have my decorations up now. But I didn't do it to prove a point or compete with what anyone else is or is not doing. I did it for me. Until this year, I'd always wait until Dec. 20ish to get it together. For once, I wanted it up for a month so I could enjoy it. And the kids had a blast downloading the tree. (Is downloading the correct term for clusters of ornaments at the bottom rather than the top? Too much time with my comp hubby, I think.)

I wonder if neighbors, peering into my window on their nightly walks, will regard me as "one of those women". You know, the kind who care too much about the lights, or the presentation. The kind that lives for cooking the Christmas Eve turkey and hand wrapping the gifts for guests that I'm naive enough to think wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with me.

I question this, because I've been on the other side of my window, not just at Christmas, but many times in life. Um... many, many times. I've peered into others' existences and wondered how they "got it together". I mean, I wasn't exactly the kid at school being voted for prom queen. Hell, I was lucky I even went to prom. But I remember looking at the prom queen, thinking how lucky she was to be selected to be princess for a day. Slow dancing with some handsome jock, I marveled at her fortune to have it so together. But, did she really? Or, like my decorations, was it just a fancy light show? Did she, like the rest of us, have broken ornaments on the inside that needed repair?

I've made a commitment to myself on two levels:

1. Be the best person I care to be (not can be, but care to be) and not for a second defend my life to anyone anymore. If I have a cute husband and a nice home and a kick ass job, yeah for me! I deserve it. And everyone else deserves their fortune also. (Lord knows I'll be honest about the downside of all the good - one bitch fest blog post soon coming to an in-box near you!)

2. I will no longer give anyone else the power to make me feel like I'm somehow not doing enough. Because just being me is enough. In whatever capacity that is. And no one is making me feel anything. It's me making me feel what I think someone else feels. (Did I really say that?)

And 3... Yes, there's a 3... I always write too much... I want to help those along the way in any way I can. But if someone makes me feel bad about my choices, well, they can help themselves. I'm not interested. And that's okay, too. I'm Christian, but I can't please the world.

Wow... all that and my egg nog wasn't even spiked.

And A Happy New Sneer...

2007-12-01T18:28:00.000-08:00

So those Xmas photos? Um, yeah... we're still working on 'em.

I Cannot Tell A Lie

2007-11-30T21:53:00.001-08:00

It wasn't one of Stink's better behavior days. For the second time in 72 hours, he fibbed. Nothing major, but you know what? It pisses me off. I mean, the whole point about not spanking this child is because studies after studies show that kids who are spanked tend to lie more to get out of being punished. Serves me right for going soft.

HOWEVER... I'm holding my ground on my anti-spank stand. (And thank you all for your thoughts on spanking. I appreciated them all.) But what about lying? I hear that fibbing is common in 5 year olds. Is this true? What are your experiences? And how did you handle it?

As for how I handled it, it was straight to his room where he got to write out the word "LIE" 50 times, front and back. Took him about an hour, but boy did he practice those writing skills. When I asked him how it felt, he responded, "I am sooooo tired. My hand is not happy. I need a hug." And that, my friends, was the truth.

Little brat.

I Can't Believe It's Not Fabio! ... Wait, it IS FABIO!!!!

2007-11-27T12:57:00.001-08:00

So ya'll know that I saw Matt LeBlanc at the grocery store yesterday.

Then, last night, I'm at dinner with Rex at Benihana's (this group seating style resaturant where the chef prepares the food at your table) and who walks in but the Italian king of romance novel covers himself... Fabio.

Unlike Matt LeBlanc who wore dark glasses, kept to himself, and had a 5:00 shadow, Fabio enters with a bright purple shirt with buttons open to the chest. His long hair was flowing and his muscles were bulging. He came with an entourage of folk, including a Naomi Campell-esque date who spent the evening nuzzling his shoulder and chatting up a mafia type man on their right. All that was missing from Fabio's sushi restaurant entrance was, "I can't believe it's not cooked tuna!"

Only in L.A..

Friends

2007-11-26T17:33:00.001-08:00

Today I was shopping at Whole Foods with Mrs. V. As we scanned the bakery section looking for sugar free syrup, she whispered quite excitedly, "Look over there! It's Joey Triviani!"

Who was she talking about? One look made it all clear. There was Friend's most eligible bachelor, checking out the labels like the rest of us.

Oh my God! Like, he actually shops by himself? Where were the paparazzi! Where were the autograph seekers?

He wore dark glasses, so I couldn't tell if he was in a good mood or not. He was alone, so unlike myself, he couldn't chat up his Thanksgiving holiday, what to buy a mother-in-law for Christmas, the benefits of receiving flowers at the door from good friends, the taste of Gorilla Munch cereal, the differences between raw sugar and agave, coveted holiday shopping with husbands who took the day off (not mine), the outrageous price of yeast free bread (thankfully Mrs. V found me a box for $3.99 that you bake in a conventional pan as opposed to a bread maker - I'm willing to try it) school mom drama or the decisions to buy, or not to buy, our siblings Christmas gifts.

I'm thinking he could not have had as much fun as me. The celebrity life: it's so over-rated.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Funky Brewster to the Rescue!

2007-11-25T23:05:00.001-08:00

Many of you know I've been bitching for 3 years about not working. So God bless you for celebrating my big windfall last month when I landed not one, but two blog gigs for national websites.

In the name of all things Diet and Cokey (um, I'm back on the juice, man) the stars were aligned, Mama P is getting some income, and neither my husband (nor you) have to hear the words, "If I don't get my brain thinking about something else besides gluten free pancake glue I'm going to go crazier than that time Anne Heche ditched Ellen and started psycho babbling at some rural home in Fresno.")

My point: I'm beyond elated for work and some income, but...

I LOVE EBAY.

Almost more than my husband and Eric Bana. (Oh, I love all your choices in men from yesterday's post. I especially appreciated the Hugh Grant and Russell Crowe picks.)

At least once/week you can find me doing retail therapy at either Out of the Closet, Salvation Army, Good Will, or even the 99 Cent Store in a pinch. I pride myself on my kids' funky clothes - designer, yet practical. A rainbow striped Mork from Ork styled pair of tights for Pip? Will she love them? For 45 cents, I'll take the chance. (But if they were 85 cents, forget it. I'm not made of money, you know.)

Take the ski pants above. "I'll take vintage 1980's for 800 please!" I mean, check out the legs. Punky Brewster would be hard pressed to find anything more Valley Girl. The good news? They cost me a whopping $1.35. The bad news? I bought them when Pip was 1. They are a size 5. They have been sitting in my closet for 3 years - closets so small that the Ashley twins might not be able to store their clothes there. Not even during their anorexic stage.

I live in L.A.. Except for all my tv meetings of days gone by, or Lindsay Lohan's coke habits, there's not many snow jobs in my town.

After flipping a few other dollar ski suits for $10.00, I decided to check out Pip's. Size 110? What the heck is that? One Google hit and Ebay search later, I found that it's European sizing. And the brand name? Pure 1980's Austrian designer.

So, practical mama that I am, I swapped this suit for another non-brand name suit (You know... in case we make it to the mountains this year... and I give up Diet Coke for good and learn Mandarin Chinese.) And my fortune? It's up to $27 bucks baby! With 10 watchers!

Who wants to guess the final score? I say $47.42. The one who gets closest, without going over, gets an official medium sized "Desperate Housewives" crew tee shirt. I got it for $1.99, but it's worth about $19.99 on Ebay. I'm a saint for giving it up. (If any of you with blogs entitled "Good Enough for Now" think, "Oh, a sized medium would never fit" you must bid anyway. Because it will fit. Very very tightly in all the right places. I'm thinking some housewife won't be desperate that night. Wink wink, nudge nudge.)

PS: Liv, I threw out the plastic, sage burning, piece of ca-ca tiger you won. I figured with your new digs, you didn't need the new clutter. (AKA: I never got around to mailing it. But I PROMISE something else is coming your way. It is!)

The real point of this post: Can a real living replace my passion for thrifting and the thrill of Ebay? Stay tuned to find out. And, like big brother, I'll be watching you, too.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Stuff It

2007-11-23T22:49:00.000-08:00

Did ya'll eat too much, drink too much and tell lots of sordid stories over frozen pumpkin pie? If ya didn't, then you weren't celebrating with me. At least not today. Yesterday it was a super yummy meal at the in-laws. Today, it was leftovers at my house. And by leftovers, I mean my side of the family brought over their left overs from Thursday's dinner and we all repeated the process again. Only this time it was done to....

Christmas lights!

Yes, I have decorated my house already and we were awash in twinkly lights, candles and a faux fireplace DVD. It was disgustingly cozy. And just a little unorganized. Um... family came at 4. At 3:45 I made the mad dash to the grocery store for some appetizers. Apparently just because you're having a pot luck does not mean you should have nothing to serve people. Etiquette 101. Lucky for me, my cousin in law was great company as we chatted our way through frozen foods, debating on chicken vs. pizza for a "main course".

I will post photos tomorrow. Tonight, I'm just happy to have been with the people I love for two days straight. It doesn't get much better than that.

Well, maybe Eric Bana would want to have a brief affair with me, but other than that.

Speaking of stars, who would you love a quickie with? Or am I the only bad mother/wife who will admit that I'd like nothing better than a torrid affair with Hector!!!!!!!!!!! Have you all seen Troy? If you say yes and you say Brad Pitt was more do-able than Eric Bana, I just might scratch your eyes right out. Or drop you from my blog list.

So who does it for you? (Okay, Susie Q, I know you'd stick your husband under a bus for Brian Dennehy.) But other than that wacky Rabbit Run cottage woman - who makes your heart sing more than a Rudolph marathon?

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Roots and Wings

2007-11-21T21:37:00.000-08:00

"We can bequeath our children only two things of lasting value: One of them is roots. The other, wings." Hodding Carter.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. You have blessed me more than you know.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

North South East West... In All the World This Desk is Best

2007-11-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in an internet cafe with a $4.00 cappucino in a porcelain mug. Jazz music pipes through JBL speakers - speakers that are carefully situated behind shabby chic book shelves and antique coffee pots. The cashier has blue stripes in her hair, the bus boys are dating, and there's ads for closet rearrangers and dog walkers on frames bought from an art sale in Tuscany. The internet is fast. I have hours on end to write. I can take breaks here and there to read up on politics, art and the best farmers markets in the Valley. I'm doing all this...

... in my head.

In reality, I'm sitting in Grandma stella's mobile home spare bedroom. She's giving Stink a lesson on turkey manners to be executed on Thursday at the in-laws. While I type, Pip periodically pops in with de-shelled peanuts, serving them to me in a plastic Baja Fresh pico de gallo cup. "Don't throw it away," she implores me. "I wouldn't dream of it," I reassure her.

I love being here, listening to my little voices in the next room. As I stare at her desk, I'm immediately reminded of my father who is now gone. His office looked just like this: with the old desk lamp that sways and bends like a goose. The 1980's brown phone with the soft ear piece added on with sticky glue. There's a calender from the local bank on the wall. A family photograph sits (with her son's head spliced in since "he wasn't actually there") on the faux wood paneling. There's a piece of tape over her light switch to remind her that, with the lights going off, so does the computer. An old rolodex sits to the left full of names that probably no longer live anymore.

I love this desk. I loved my dad's desk. The staplers were solid and felt good in my hands. The pens (often pilfered from doctor's offices) had hours of stories and poems in them. Stella's desk has character. Like my favorite people, everything you see is what you get. Not like today, where everything is hidden behind a flat screen monitor. Contacts are stored in address books on files. And godforbid someone else wants to find one. You need the password and code name just to get the number for the neighbor. Stella doesn't need her neighbor's number. She just walks out front and taps on their door.

I know I'm idealistic to think of life in the old days. They had their problems, too. The relics from thrift stores I assign meaning to were probably tossed for a reason: bad reminders of a decade that left a scar. But for me, it's simplicity. And a time when people lounged around. Where formality wasn't more important than sincerity. Where you could fight and stick your foot in your mouth and still be friends the next day because you were going to live in the same apartment for the rest of your life, so just suck it up and move on.

What do you think? Do you romanticize the past or look toward the future? I mean, if we didn't have technology, where would bloggers be? Oh, I'd never know you! Can we find a combo of both?

Happy weekend. I hope you spend it doing what you love, with who you love.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Holding up under fire & Veterans Day

2007-11-13T23:36:00.000-08:00

Thank you to everyone who responded supportively over the spanking incident of 2007. I appreciate that you didn't call me a monster and have admitted to either saying you'd never spank but did it anyway, or acknowledging without regret that it's a discipline method you choose. It has helped me tremendously to feel better over losing my cool. I suppose, despite my perfectionistic tendencies, I'm a human after all. Cue '80s music.

I also forgot to acknowledge the amazing men and women who have fought to protect me from harm. Their service to our country allow me to tuck my children in bed each night (some nights are less chaotic than others) and worry over the big, the small and the insignificant matters of my life.

One Tall Momma gives a wonderful tribute to her Uncle Ben about three posts down in the link. Check it out.

In closing, can I just say how grateful I am to live in a land where I can be who I am meant to be? Where my kids can be who they're meant to be? The freedom factor, like Spiderman's powers, does not come "without great responsibility". It's perhaps why I work so hard to be the best person I can be. I have that option when so many don't. I owe it to myself - to those who put their life on the line for me - to live up to that freedom. How fortunate that with freedom comes such great room for joy and exhuberance. Where else in America can my son, with his Jewish background and Catholic upbringing, stand in front of our Japanese imported wide screen tv and celebrate Kwanza dancing with a furry red puppet?

Life is good. Thank you all for being there to celebrate it with me.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Brand Spanking New Goal

2007-11-12T15:10:00.001-08:00

The other day I spanked my kid. I'm not proud of it, but I did it. I was exhausted physically and just lashed out. Nothing life alterating - one quick pat - but emotionally it sucked. For both of us.

I wrote about it at my Babycenter blog. Thank you Maggie, for commenting so soon. I'm bracing for the backlash from moms who not only never spank their kids, but cook everything from scratch and never let them watch tv. How do they do it?

My mother would kill me. Not about the spanking, but about talking about it. Hailing from Boston and, in being in her 70's, she's of the conservative ilk that, "Some things are just private!" But here's the deal. I know I'm not a child abuser. I just lost my cool. And if it can happen to me, I'll bet O.J.'s soon-to-be-guilt-free trial that it's happened to most of you. If you say you've never done it, I don't believe you. But if you really haven't done it, please go to my Babycenter post and let me know how.

Anyway, despite hardly ever spanking my kids, I've instituted a no-spanking policy. It's too easy to lash out in anger. I never want to have to worry about crossing the line. So it's about more scheduled breaks for me. More time with my husband, like Sunday night, when just the two of us sat at dinner together and chilled out. In fact, we did that on Saturday night, too. Which leads me back again to the point of sometimes, no matter what kind of support we get, we still lose it.

I don't ever want to be pushed to that emotional frustration again. Stink is only 4, for Godsake. What will I do if he knocks up a girl at 15? Throw them in the river? Time to get a handle on my emotions and take the advice I throw to the kids, "Control my body. Control my language!"

In closing, I want to give a shout out to Rex. Someone at a party on Saturday night asked me where Rex was. I was honest. He was home taking it easy. I used to feel bad about that... take in everyone's pitied looks (and sometimes comments) of "ooh, that must be so hard." You know what? It used to be. But it's not now. I love that I'm confident enough that I can do stuff without my husband and come home to a lovely, warm environment. I'm social and he's a homebody. It's that simple. And guess what? He's not losing it emotionally on the kids. He's not screaming and yelling. He knows his limits, and in knowing them, he is the most accessible for me for when I need it most: at home, during the quiet hours after dinner and pre-bed, when the kids want stories and loving Papa to wrap their arms around them. Thanks, Rex, you grumpy old man.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Stop the Presses!

2007-11-05T20:48:00.000-08:00

I am so glad I am not allowing my children to play with guns, watch violence on tv, talk about hate or use the word kill. Just look at how peacefully they play?

On the note of having your limbs torn apart, I was asked to send in a photo for a new gig I'm starting soon. I feel like I should be hush hush about this job since I don't want to jinx it.

But I'm not good at secrets.

So I'll tell you. It's a column for Good Housekeeping! A blog to be exact, but it's premiering in the magazine in January. But to really not jinx it, I won't tell you the theme.

Okay, you twisted my arm. It's on Sex and Marriage. Rex is beyond thrilled. But probably not as thrilled as his family will be who tend to be more on the private side. As in tasteful. As in properly proper. Opposed to their brother's/son's/grandson's wife who puts everything out for the world on display. Kind of like a salami hanging in a deli window. (It's references to salami that got me this blog, so let's not knock the simili, shall we?)

So back to the bio. They wanted a photo. I turned in what I thought was a pretty decent pic. My writing partner from my tv days - forever the diplomat - had this to say:

Andrea:

I fixed your picture as best I could. I suggest you use another one for publicity. This one does not do you justice. The lighting is horrific. The color of your sweater makes the rest of you look pasty. You need better make up. Pencil in your eyebrows. Use more mascara. Get rid of the wrinkles. Use better and more lipstick and have someone pose you. Otherwise I loved the picture.

I could get mad, but I laughed. I mean, if a good friend can't tell you the truth, who can?

So, $200.00 later from a paycheck I have yet to receive, I have a lovely new set of makeup. Wednesday I'm off to the Picture People for a portrait. Friday I'm getting my red-hair re-installed - at my old salon no less - as a celebration of my old funk. I'll be broke, but cute once again.

Happy Monday! What are you all doing nice for yourselves this week? Are you having lots of sex? Do tell. It's not like you'd end up in a national magazine or anything. Ahemmmm.......

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Get a Peace of This!

2007-11-02T22:15:00.000-07:00

Life has felt deliriously happy lately. Like the carnival wheel pictured, it's been dizzying with its round and round of kid needs, shopping, laundry, cooking, driving, but I'm never so happy as when the lights and whistles are blaring in full force. Add in some giggles - a little organ music - and you've got one happy Mama P. (Add in some kettle corn and I'd pass out in comatosed nirvana.)

However...

Always a however... I am going to prevent a crash and burn situation by removing myself from the computer this weekend. A spinning wheel can be very exciting, but let the circle spiral too long and someone's gonna upchuck.

And it ain't going to me, because frankly, I have a clean home and car for once.

So until Monday, I'm off to enjoy some silence. Well, with kids, there's never silence. And this time manana my car and home will be more messed up than a hotel room after prom. But I'll take the chance. Because let's face it, my kids won't be swayed by a 3.00 carnival ride in a few years. I have to enjoy their innocent exhuberance while I can.

But hey, while I'm taking a break, if someone out there in cyberspace wants to invent a toddler straw for me to suck it all up I'd be forever grateful.

In closing, if any of you out there aren't feeling so good, let me remind you that for every down, there's an up. It is going to get better. Platitude, schmatitude... it's true what they say: That sometimes the stress helps us appreciate the peace. And sure, the ride down a mountain is easy, but the hike up is a bitch. I've been there. Better stated, I've been that bitch. But it's worth it.

And again, thank you to everyone who is so kind to read me like you do. It means more to me than I can express.

Witch Way to the Sugar????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-11-01T20:35:00.001-07:00

We survived Halloween! Three families joined us for a spooktacular time. Lots of noise, lots of laughter, and very little insanity of the fatal kind.

I'm once again amazed that if I'd planned a menu, or had a huge agenda, it wouldn't have flowed as nicely.

Taking a cue from my kids' preschool, I made last minute string cheese spiders. I threw together a gluten-free graveyard, replete with R.I.P. in organic ketchup. See the green stuff? That's not brocalli. It's haunted trees! They were cut down by a mad cemetary janitor. My kids even managed a nap before the festivities arrived. (Who needs Jessica Seinfeld's cookbook when you've got Mama P OCD brain. Though I hear, despite wanting to be snarky, that it's a great read.)

Today was marked with lots of whining for candy. Stink: "Mommy, I ate 2 bites of brocalli. So can I have the Skittles NOOOOOW?" Me: "You haven't eaten your greens yet." Stink: (seperating them by color, pointing to the green pile): "How about I eat these?"

Part of my kids' elation is that they don't eat sugar at all anymore. Halloween for them is like an alcoholic, ten years sober, falling off the wagon at Bev Mo.

Mama P, sugar guidance counselor extraordinaire, is trying to be understanding. I'm letting them have their day in the sun. (Literally, the sun. They are hiiiiigh, man.) But tomorrow it goes away. I fully expect shaking, sweating and the cursing of, "You don't know what it's like to live without the white stuff, dude!" But a few days later, when they're clear eyed and bushy tailed, I know they'll appreciate me.

Or when they're 18 and can navigate their way through a salad bar at the university cafeteria.

If they even have cafeterias at college in 15 years and they're not ingesting everything through capsules.

But will they make gluten-free capsules?

And what if the kids don't go to college? That will be fine, as long as they're happy. But how will they get enough money to pay for their organic food packets without a degree? Because they're certainly not going to eat the day away under myyyyyy roof.

All done now.

Um, wait. A quick joke for the 4th grader living inside of you. Why can't female witches get knocked up? Because male witches have hollow weenies! (I say 4th grade because, like the gluten-free food capsules, society is getting so advanced. Perhaps I'll start writing a Birds and Bees book for the toddler crowd. It could be my ticket to millions!!!!!!!! Which the kids still won't get their hands on if they're living under my roof in 15 years instead of going to college.)

Ahemmmmmmm.

REALLY.

DONE.

NOW.

Carving Out My Style

2007-10-28T19:34:00.000-07:00

Tonight was pumpkin carving night. My sister dropped by with her two children. 4 mini pizzas... two crappy carving sets... more seeds than you can shake a scarecrow at... stringy gourd insides resembling my brain after a long week of Rex on and business... and 4 lumpy painted pumpkins later.... it was a great evening.

A dear friend of mine stopped by with her baby. I really like her, because we're different in a lot of ways. Sure, our morals and actions are similar, but she has often a contradictory approach to how I do things. She's much less wishy washy. If we were breakfast foods, I'd be a waffle. With syrup. Maybe. Or maybe powdered sugar. Or perhaps a decaf coffee only because I'm giving up on caffeine, even though I know I'll cave a week later. She would order "The eggs. Over easy. That's it."

Her defining style makes me grow. And think. Like Glinda "with a Ga" says to her friend, the green wicked witch, "My world is better because of you." Or something like that. I was too busy crying during that song to remember the exact words. And tonight I'm too exhaused from scraping pumpkin vomit off my ceiling to bother You Tubing the lyrics from Wicked.

My friend and I landed on the subject of parenting. She made a very interesting point about my woes as of late. (See previous post.) In a nutshell, she deducted that there's two kinds of parents that approach play areas: The type that are a bit protective (such as herself) and the type like me (who are more of a 'let the kid figure it out himself unless danger is imminent' type.)

It now makes sense to me. No style is better than the other, but it's going to cause conflict. Always. If I can't deal with the repurcussions of such conflict, I really need to stay away from those environments.

I know it sounds simple, and my apologies for A) The obvious and B) The parenting slant of this post. But I'm just happy to have heard it said. My poor friend puts up with a lot of questioning from me. Sometimes I don't say things graciously. But in the end, I always see her point of view. If she's reading, I hope she knows that.

In closing, I realize I'm a perfectionist, and this is where most of my issues come from. Not "this mom said that" or "this one acted like that..." But I'm prone to, without even being conscious of it always, "Why can't I just make everything perfect so there's never any conflict. Why can't my kid be that way, also?"

Of course, looking at my pumpkin carving, or how I cook, you'd never guess there's a perfectionist the size of Mt. Rushmore living in my soul.

I give off too nutty of a vibe. I'm brilliant that way.

In closing, I'm once again tired of myself. If you're interested in my opinion on the state of parenting, or how Diet Coke makes me fart enough to start a hybrid car, check out my journal on Babycenter.com. Otherwise, I am using November to write about things I'm grateful for. Can I start with good friends that put up with my stupid blabber mouth, where I can sometimes sound insulting, but really am just trying to navigate my way through this messy world of raising souls - trying not to permanently mess them up? You're all included in the compliment.

Good night!

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Go San Diego Go Diego....

2007-10-27T16:39:00.000-07:00

Any of you with toddlers will get my little song reference. Any of you without toddlers can live in peace without this OCD inducing theme song rattling your brain like a bad virus.

We're back from San Diego after cutting our week long vacation down to two days. Nothing was open the first day we were there, but we were able to go to the beach and see some family. That was nice. We hit Sea World the second day. No one was there, so Stink enjoyed a few rides with Papa. Pip wasn't big enough, so I took advantage of her sugar free brother being gone by plying her with over priced icecream.

Not a very eventful trip, but pleasant. It's so rare for Rex and I to just be together. We're your classic couple that divides labor to get the jobs done: He is at work and then does all the gardening. I'm at home with the kids and take care of the inside of the house. To be a team for two days straight where our only focus was our family was divine - a reminder to do that more often.

I'm kinda pooped. It was a lot of driving for two days, and a bit less relaxing than I'd hoped. No lounging at the pool - which was closed. No hanging out with college friends - who were housing evacuees. But the people we did see were fantastic. And again, the people I live with, but sometimes don't see, reminded me again why we're a family.

As I type this now, Rex is mowing the lawn. The kids are having squirt gun wars in the bathroom since some tree trimmers have taken over their battle ground outside. I'm preparing for a long week ahead of Halloween festivities, some post office runs, some work related issues, and some local family visits. But am inspired again to take time for the things that matter most.

How do you do it? How do you stay connected to the people that matter most when the world provides so much distraction?

PS: My gig at Babycenter doesn't allow me to be snarky. It's supposed to be a place where friendly neighbors stop by with advice. A "cup of sugar" for the community pie - if you will.

However, since this is my blog, I'd like to say that if the woman who yelled at Stink at Balboa Park is reading this blog, you can kiss. My. Fanny. You're probably not reading, because you're too busy finding your way out of your toddler's butt hole. But for the record, my bully was blocking the damn dinosaur because he was play acting. Can't you tell a sick prehistoric creature when you see one? You can yell at my 4 year old, but I'm thinking that it might be more beneficial to teach your kid to use her words to simply ask him to move, instead of causing World War 3 over something as stupid as your dumb photo op that your kid didn't even want to smile for. Ooooh, my son growled at you. I wish he were a real dinosaur. Then he could eat you and entitled mothers like yourself could be extinct. Now go put some money into karate. And therapy. Your non-smiling, freaked out mama's kid is going to need it.

All done.

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Premature Evacuation

2007-10-23T22:44:00.000-07:00

I would love to say that I haven't been posting because I'm on my family vacation.

The first family vacation, um, ever.

The one we scheduled over 6 months ago.

But then the fires happened. Not only could we not go to San Diego, but some of my good friends had to leave their home in Topanga Canyon. Someone else I know had a brother who lost his house in Canyon Country.

Does it suck to lose out on a vacation? Sure. But more suckage than staying home is the suckage of those who don't have homes anymore.

We're making the best of the situation. The first couple of days Rex and I got to argue over how best to clean floors, how best to do laundry, and how best to get the kids to sleep without death threats. (Such head bumping occurs when two worlds don't normally collide. It's also what happens when a war is being lead by two generals. Who do you listen to? Fun for all!)

The bright side of this togetherness is that now we're used to each other. Butts have been sniffed, compromises made and peace offerings laid on the table. (He bought me a newspaper out of the blue. I watched a DVD of Erasure with him.) We have had quite a few laughs, and quite a few glasses of beer.

We might leave tomorrow if the fires are subdued. Wish us luck! And to all of you who have relatives or friends displaced by fire, my heart goes out to them. And as soon as I get my first Babycenter check, a donation will go to these people.

PS: Do I regret my Disneyland passes? No. But I had to laugh. I think they had as much fun playing in our neighbor's leaves yesterday as they did riding on Peter Pan.

* More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section. You can find me daily by scrolling or choose by author. Share the love and leave a comment! Or avoid me. It’s all good.

Mousing Around

2007-10-18T23:03:00.001-07:00

I have always wanted to work to be a role model for my kids. To have money to set aside for their college funds. To have a rainy day nest egg. To play the stock market.

I don't want to ever rely solely on Rex for financial support.

I don't want to make emotional decisions with my cash. I don't like using credit or borrowing against money that hasn't arrived yet.

This all said, I took an advance on my first check and bought year round Disneyland passes. Because let's face it, I could get hit by a bus before I even make it to the bank. Life is meant for enjoyment, too. Besides, the kids have it so hard with preschool, organic food and a clean, warm home. Don't they deserve a little fun? A break from the mundane boredom of airconditioning and reading clean library books?

We used the passes today for the first time. Other than the fact that my passport photo endowed me with whiskers and a neck rivaling a Thanksgiving butterball, we had a fabulous time. As evidenced by the photo, Pip might have enjoyed herself a bit too much.

I wish all of you a weekend with so much joy that your loved ones find you slumped over in a padded chair. If you drool, so much the better. You're not lazy, you're passionate!
And finally (yes, truly, finally) I thank you all so much for supporting my new writing space with your lovely comments. Being the new girl in school is always a challenge. To have your kind "faces" in my unfamiliar classroom meant more than you know. Whoever makes it to town gets a dinner at Disneyland on me! (I have to make TV money to buy ya'll passes, but don't put it past me. Like Walt Disney himself, I'm dreaming big.)

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

Bad Morning America

2007-10-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 7AM to take my sister to the airport. Mornings for me are like sunlight for bats. We would both rather hang upside down by our toes than deal with the atrocity of pre-dawn activity.

That aside, I am attempting to think positively these days. In order to do so, I find it best to first listen to the negative thoughts, then out-trump them with goodness.

Let's start with the negative thoughts on waking up early, shall we?

* Exhaustion
* Waking up sleeping toddlers (akin to sticking a needle in a sleeping tiger's eye)
* Hitting traffic
* Running out of gas on the freeway
* Filling up the tank just in time to have to use the potty, preventing an explosion worse than the recent L.A. Truck Incident (My kids didn't have to use the bathroom because, in the ten precious minutes I had between sleep and driving, I hoisted them onto the toilet. I know, send the martyr certificate in the mail.)
* Finding out that I hit the one gas station in L.A. that doesn't have a bathroom
* Having to use one at the McDonalds down the street
* Driving the rest of the way to the airport hearing my children interrogate me on why they couldn't have a Happy Meal at 7:30 am
* Talking my sister down from a panic attack that she's not going to miss the flight while I navigate side-streets like a pro. (Translation: smile like a contestant on Dancing with the Stars who has no idea what they're doing, but they're not letting anyone else know.)

Here are my positive thoughts on getting up early.
......

.............

........................

Anyone? Bueller?

More of my writing can be found on Babycenter.com. I write under the name Andrea Frazer and can be found in the Momformation Section.

C'mon Babycenter! Err... Babycenter.com

2007-10-15T17:23:00.001-07:00

Now that my funk is over (AKA whining more than my toddlers after a day at Chuck E. Cheese) it's nothing short of ironic that I got a gig writing for Babycenter.com. I'm listed under Momformation and my first post, Whine Gets Better with Age, can be found here (I'm the third one down.)

Yes, it's true! I am one of 3 official "Behavior Bloggers". I'm not supposed to be an expert, per se. I'm more of an "observer of manners" for all things baby and toddler related. If I must say, I'm perfect for this job. Here's just a few reasons:

* I talk to at least 3 strangers/day (whether they're interested in chatting with me or not.) What was once only extraneous info from the 99 cent checker on teething infants and the fertility cycle of miniature poodles can now be shared with the universe courtesy of Mama P!

* I now have a place to go (my desk) after dropping off my kids at preschool. No more 3 hours excursions to the thrift store to spend money on the 1993 Fred Flintstone movie action figures I just had to have.

* I now get paid. Which sort of nulls my second point, because this essentially means I can go thrifting even more than I did before. Maybe there's a Barney or a Dino in my future?

If any of you want to check me out, just go to the link above. In the future, you can just go to Babycenter.com, find the COMMUNITY link at the top, use the drop down menu and select the first option of NEW BLOGS. You'll then see two links: Celebrity Babies and Momformation. I'm under Momformation. If this seems like a confusing web, it is. Then again, my head is still spinning about how I got this gig in the first place (and another... to come next month!) Let's just not question the good fortune, shall we?

I would love any comments from you just to get me rolling. Your feedback might give me a little more credibility with my editors (as well as get some people to ping back to your blogs. It's all about sharing the linky love, right?) Any following for me is helpful because at some point I'm destined to deviate from my assigned behavior themes and ramble on and on about the benefits of organics, Yuban vs. Starbucks, or the philosophical question of "To Eat Spam or Not to Eat Spam"? (Shhh... don't tell the editors just yet. It's my thrifting money at stake!)

In closing, do any of you feel passionate about any organizations that deal with children? If so, please write me separately or just note it in the comments here. I'd like to give them plugs as I get more established.

In closing, I would like to wish my husband a Happy 37th birthday today. He never reads this blog, which is why I saved this wish for final thought. I mean, it's not like I enjoy going on and on about me, right? Right?

Oh, stoooop with the eye rolls amd leave me some love at Babycenter, will ya?

List-Less These Days

2007-10-10T13:30:00.001-07:00

To be honest with you, I'm in a funk. Not down on my knees, get thee to a Xanax Factory funk, but a "wow my kids are in school and I have all this free time and yet I'm not doing anything that I'm super excited about and yet what do I have to complain about" kind of funk.

When I feel like this, it's time to pull out the stops. For me, it's a cornucopia of ingredients that, when all is combined in my mixing bowl of life, produces quite a nice bread loaf of contentment. Take one out, and things feel flat. Kinda like matzah. You can eat it, but the lack of rise makes ones mouth feel sort of dry. I call it giving my tounge a yeast infection.

Focusing once again, here's my list for the Joy Joy Life Buzz:

- Exercise
- Talk to people. The requirement is that they must have pubic hair. I don't want to see it, but they must be of age to at least grow it. This does not include ten year olds who are early bloomers.
- Remember to take my Zoloft.

- Cut down on caffeine. My third week of no Diet Coke is commendable. But upping the Yuban to quantities that could start my SUV? Um, not so good.
- Pray and go to church. Or at least get a doughnut on Sundays and pray in the car while jonesing for a Big Gulp.
- Take time for me (journaling, getting hair done, toes... something).
- Write every day.

- Make my own money, even if it's 2.99 on a vintage Smurf toilet brush.
- Chat with a professional either on issues of the spirit, the brain, the body or even a chef. Someone that knows more than I do. (Which, when I'm cranky, is hard to find, which leads me to my last requirement...)
- Keep a gratitude list. I am so lucky in my life, and while I know it, sometimes I don't always feel it.

So far, I've managed one of the above items only. That should tell you where I'm at.

What is your recipe for getting out of funks? If you tell me you're just a naturally happy person who only needs God, pot or St. John's Wart, I will personally come over to your house and bitch slap you while you're diligently doing your Kathy Smith Yoga tape (which will take care of the exercise portion on my list.)

On a bright note, isn't this a cute shot of Pip and me? I adore my in-laws, but if they tell me one more time that she looks like my husband, I'm going to have to assume they are smoking the wacky weed. Which means I should really be hanging out with them more.

Note to self: Add "Call in-laws" to your daily list of ingredients.