Time Flus By When You're Having Fun

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

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

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

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

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

Porn for Women - Click Photos to Read Captions!

Have a great day!

You've Got MORE Hate Mail

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

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

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

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

Andrea:

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

That was really lovely, don't you think?

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

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

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

You've Got Hate Mail

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

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

Here's the response that made my day:

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

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

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

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

Made In China

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything you're passionate about? Why?

When You Wish Upon a Star

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Taking a Little Guilt Trip

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

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

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

I feel... guilty.

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

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

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

...

......

.........

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

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

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

Thanks!

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

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

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

Life in the Slow Lane

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



The End.


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

Lets Talk About Privates, Shall We?

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

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

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

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

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....

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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?"