Cranky Mommy

Sometimes, It’s the Little Joys In Life

Kira — Wed, 23 May 2007 01:29:06 +0000

It’s been 11 days since I last posted. I even failed to post on Mother’s Day, which I suppose in the Mommy Blog world, is some kind of faux pas.
But I don’t have much to rant, whine and complain about… I’ve been in too good a mood. I had the best Mother’s day gift of all — my son is finally potty trained. (Really, this time).
There have been times in my life when I thought some things would never end. High School. College. Pregnancy. Sleepless nights with the baby. Breastfeeding. And, especially potty training.
No more holding it for six days.
No more pull-up diapers. Or Once Upon A Potty, and Your New Potty, and every other stupid book or video that didn’t help at all.
Cancel that appointment with the Pediatric GI.
I’m not asking why or how (although toy bribery sure helped, no doubt), who cares, it’s done. Just don’t ask me for any potty training advice, I’m the last person you’d want to ask because I sucked at it so bad. I’m just so happy to be done with it I could skip down the street giving flowers to strangers.
I will never, ever, ever miss changing diapers. And with some luck if I ever have grandkids, I can talk them out of letting grandma change the diapers and I will be off duty for life. Woo Hoo.
So, that leaves me with little to blog about, at least that I feel comfortable putting up here in a public forum. I still have that tube in my eye which has mostly fixed things and will be with me for the next 6 months. I’m busy with working with my husband doing housepainting. I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work. I’ve put on a couple of pounds.
Yawn.

Nicknames

Kira — Sat, 12 May 2007 17:54:00 +0000

When I was a little kid most of my nicknames didn’t stick long. A couple of friends called me Kir, but not many. My mom used to call me Ki or Kira Deara and still does, but she is the only one that uses those.
She also used to call me Little Buttinsky which I thought was cute until I grew up and realized it meant little butt-in-sky.
In fourth grade, because I was such a space cadet, a few kids called me Earth To Kira. I didn’t like that much, although it was accurate. And because I used to fuss about the small things, one obnoxious little boy in 4th and 5th grade called me Ms. Picky Picky.
Years later I was watching an epsiode of Big Brother and I noticed an obnoxious guy on the show who looked just like that little boy who teased me in 4th and 5th grade.

Some people never grow up (he didn’t win, woo hoo, and no I’m not bitter). Anyhow, I digress…
Anyhow, as of the last few weeks, my son has been giving me some nicknames. I’m not sure how I feel about them. One of them is sorta cute. It’s Lappy. I guess because he likes to sit on my lap. the other one I am not to fond of. It’s Salami. I guess it is because it rhymes with Mommy. Mommy - Salami. Ugh.
Of course he has a few nicknames, too, that aren’t any better. Some of which we don’t use anymore, and some have stuck around a while. His name is African and unusual in this country, so most of the old people in the neighborhood can’t pronounce his name right so I just tell them to call him Mr. T.

I don’t think he has any idea who this guy is.
When he was younger we gave him a few names that were transitory. When he was just a few weeks old it was Mr. Bobble Head and when he kept biting it was Mr. Bitey and the inevitable nickname of all babies, Mr. Poopy Pants. Mr. No Sleep, well we still use that one. He still doesn’t sleep much.
There is also Mr. Irrational Exuberance, for when he is manic, and my new favorite, since he is so into dinosaurs, Crankosaur, for for when he is tired and cranky. On occasion I do use my my mother’s old nickname for me, Buttinsky, since he is always in the middle of whatever I am doing. However I will probably do what my mother did and shorten it to Binsky, but before he figures out what it means.

Care to share any especially funny nicknames?

Thank Goodness For Dark Glasses

Kira — Mon, 07 May 2007 00:27:49 +0000

Friday I had the tear duct surgery on my eye. As surgery goes, it was pretty minor, but I’m of the opinion that any kind of surgery is not minor. I have no idea how these people get elective surgeries like nose jobs and boob jobs!
It’s amazing what they can do with the human body these days. I now have a tube in my right eye, running from my top tear duct, down to my bottom tear duct, and making a loop somewhere inside my nose. Kind of like this:

The tube, which you can see about 1/4 inch showing if you have good eyesight, will be removed in several months, creating a new place for my tears to drain, to get around the obstruction. So, I won’t have tears pouring down my face anymore. Kinda cool, kinda gross… if you care to read about it here.
The drag is, I still have tears running down my face. Tomorrow I will call up and find out if I have to wait until the tubes come out to see if this damn thing is going to work. And something happened to my left duct, which is partially blocked, when the surgeon tried to unblock it, or something (who knows, I was knocked out). That’s the eye that I didn’t get the tube put in… and now I have a black eye on that eye.

Now, instead of people looking at me thinking, “Is she crying?” they are looking at me thinking “Is she crying? And who punched her in the eye?”

We Hope He Will Do Better Naming His Children

Kira — Tue, 01 May 2007 23:56:57 +0000

Yesterday and today my son, for the first time in many months, has had a little pooping-on-the-potty success. I’d gone to the toy store to get some “rewards” and all I can say is, nothing like bribery to get you somewhere. So, today he got his “reward”. It was a mini stuffed animal triceratops and a mini puzzle. He immediately put it next to his stuffed stegosaurus, Stego, and gave it a name.
What else for a triceratops?

Horny.

Yep, Horny the triceratops. Gotta love that one. He’ll be hating that one in about 5 or 6 years.

New, Improved Mom Now With More Smiles and 50% Less Grumpiness

Kira — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 23:39:44 +0000

There’s something odd going on with me. Something is… inexplicably different with me the last couple of weeks. The little black raincloud that hangs over my head constantly, is, for whatever strange reason, not there.
I’m actually… happy.
It’s to the point that when my friend Emma drops by in the way she does (constantly) with one or two of her kids in tow for a play date, she looks at me and says, “You are in a good mood, again! It’s so strange, you are freaking me out!”
There really is no good reason for the good mood of mine, but perhaps there are a few minor contributors. Tax refunds. A few better nights of sleep. The fact that when everyone is complaining about their springtime allergies, mine seem to have disappeared. I’d like to say it is the sunny, 78 degree weather and the fact that the days are longer, but my good mood started when it was raining and dreary, so that theory is suspect.
A few minor things have been resolved in my life, but I still have some things that aren’t. I still have no career direction, my artistic muse is on vacation once again, my child is still having GI and potty issues, and I am having my minor tear duct surgery on Friday. But luckily right now, it’s all water off a duck’s back.
If this good mood sticks around, does that mean I need to change the name of my blog?

Worst Role Models On PBS Kids Television

Kira — Wed, 25 Apr 2007 00:07:45 +0000

We all turn to PBS for wholesome family shows. You know, the kids shows that you don’t have to worry about giving your kids nightmares after viewing them. Educational, informative, safe. And also providing horrible role models for small children. Let me give you my list of the top PBS kids offenders*.

1) Cookie Monster. He gets an F for table manners and gluttony. Practically every parent has had the misfortune of cleaning up after a child imitating Cookie Monster while eating something. Diagnosis: Binge Eating Disorder.

2) The Man in the Yellow Hat on Curious George. Totally negligent pet owner, the SPCA should be after him. Diagnosis: Animal Cruelty.

3)Zoe. That little monster never wants to share, and is way too into that stupid pet rock that everyone has to pretend is alive. If Zoe were alive and human she would need a therapist to insure that she wasn’t having a paranoid break. Diagnosis: Schizoid Personality Disorder.

4)Ernie. And no, I’m don’t take any issues with Ernie and Bert being ambiguously gay. Rather, Ernie is rude for keeping poor Bert up at night and not letting him go to sleep. No wonder Bert is so cranky. Diagnosis: Insomniac.

5)Jetta from Clifford, the big red dog. Sure she looks sweet, but nearly every episode she brags and lies, then has some kind of catharsis and regrets it by the end. But somehow, by the next episode, she is back to being her bragging and lying self. Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder.

Care to add to the list?

*This is all tongue and cheek of course. Really we love PBS, we do. Even Cookie Monster.

What’s Good For The Gander

Kira — Mon, 16 Apr 2007 14:40:01 +0000

Somewhere a while ago, I read an article that said that married men live longer than single men. I don’t remember the reason they gave for this fact, however I believe it to be true. For the wife’s goal in life is to keep her race horse in top condition and doesn’t want to be stuck with a bum horse that is stuck in the barn, unable to run. Thus she nags him to death - The Nag Factor - to keep him in fine shape; to go to the doctor, to stay away from the fatty muffins and cookies.
The husband may hate it, but deep down inside he knows that the wife really cares about him and isn’t just doing it to be a royal pain in the ass. She’s likely to live longer than him, so she has to make sure he’s fit and fine and free of excess junk.
Since we have been together, I have done a good bit to keep him from eating that junky stuff. When I first met my husband, his breakfast was an extra large coffee with cream and sugar, a pack of Tasty-Kake Creamy Krimpets, and a half a pack of cigarettes. Those days of excess are long gone. But really lately he has been awful. It’s all due to having his gallbladder out.
If you ask me, that bad gallbladder was the best thing to happen to him. Because, it was like a little angel sitting on his shoulder with a pitchfork saying, If you insist on eating those cookies, you are going to pay and I am going to stab you in the gallbladder with a pitchfork and keep you up until 3 A.M. Nothing like pain to keep you motivated to eat right! With a little help of diet modification, the 2 years he suffered with a bad gallbladder, his bad cholesterol went down and his good cholesterol went up. Thank you, bad gallbladder.
Of course, my husband has been on a fat and sugar and junk tear, ever since he got the darn thing out. All the good eating he did for two years, he had to make up for it. He wasn’t exactly back to Tasty-Kakes and cigarettes, but he wasn’t exactly eating well. And the whole time of course, I nagged him to stay out of the bakery section at Eddies of Roland Park at lunchtime, go get a physical and get his cholesterol checked. My husband was optimistic about the results, but I suspected his refound love of junk food would give us some results that might change his mind.
This morning we got his cholesterol results back. And (as usual, since I usually am, if I say so myself) I was right. Cholesterol up 20 points! So off to work my husband went, with a (healthy, low-fat) lunch I packed for him. Bye-bye, Eddie’s Bakery.
Anyhow, it’s the least I can do. Although, I wonder if this means I am going to have to eat all the brownies I just baked (gulp).

I Really, Really Know How To Waste Time

Kira — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 00:13:41 +0000

Why blog and stuff, when you can waste time just popping balloons.

It’s a great stress reliever, and an incredible waste of time, and somewhat addictive. And something to do when you don’t feel like writing, painting, or… thinking.

‘Twas The Night Before Easter…

Kira — Sun, 08 Apr 2007 02:58:43 +0000

…And Mom, also known as the Easter Bunny, ~~is too cheap~~ thinks it is ridiculous to spend $1.50 on ~~a tiny bag of pastel colored shredded paper~~ Easter basket grass so she is cutting up construction paper to make grass with.
After all, he is just 4!
I bought my Easter basket stuff at Target today, and my God they have a lot of useless stuff that they, and every other store in America, are try to pawn off on parents at Easter time. Among the things I saw were plastic “candy holders” in the shape of the Superman emblem. Somehow that just doesn’t seem very Easter-y.
Or how about a dart gun for our 7-year old? That really just reminds me of ~~Jesus rising up from the dead to forgive us of our sins~~ Easter.
And then of course, their are those Peeps.

I suppose they are kinda okay, if you have the taste buds of the under-6 set. I’ve been known, on rare occasion, to eat them before (if I am needing a sugar fix and there is nothing else nearby). But everywhere I have been lately, every store seems to be a… Peep pusher. They have huge displays with rows and rows of florescent sugar coated marshmallow junk. They even have stuffed animal Peeps, I saw some today at Target.

The bunnies are kind of scary… kind of like, Thalidomide bunnies. Really, do these look like much fun to play with? Maybe they make good pillows.
So, if you are doing the whole Easter basket thing, what is in your basket?

Oh Yeah, That Blog I Have…

Kira — Fri, 06 Apr 2007 13:40:39 +0000

So I’m back. It was nice to take a break. Seriously, I am thinking of giving it up. Not that it takes that much time, it’s just one more thing in my life I’m not sure I necessarily need.
Plus the little things in life seem to be taking over.
In short, what has happened since I last blogged:

My 85 year old MIL fell and blacked out (again), and had to go in the hospital and get a pacemaker put in, and then spent time in rehabilitation. Thankfully she is back home and doing well.

The opthamologist tried to remove my tear duct blockage and was unable to, so I will be getting a minor tear duct surgery soon.

I went out for a friend’s birthday, had a whisky sour, cheesecake with cherries, and fries with Old Bay on them. Came home and had a horrible allergic reaction to something I ate. I had hives all over, didn’t know which end to point at the toilet, thought I was going to have to go to the hospital and wanted to die. Saw an allergist this week for it and will be tested soon. I think it is the Old Bay (sniff). I love Old Bay.

I got our taxes done.

My parents came to visit and left.

We started mineral oil therapy for my son who, surreally, seems “fine” holding his bowels for 6 days. And it isn’t working particularly well. And it is totally gross and it absolutely sucks, I will spare you the details. And if this doesn’t work, we are being referred to a pediatric GI doctor. The subject of constipation has been “overblogged” by one particularly famous Mommy Blogger, so I don’t think I have much more I want to say on this other than UGH.

My son had an allergy appointment for the frightening “coughing fits” he has at some of his friends houses, which is apparently asthma and he is now on inhalers.

My printer/scanner died, just a bit over the 1 year warranty. Damn pieces of sh*t. I got another with a 3 year warranty.

Oh, and I totally lost it. Did I mention that I lost it yet? But I seem to be back to (semi-) normal. The little black raincloud that was raining on my head seems to have moved on.

So, how the hell are you?

On Hiatus

Kira — Tue, 27 Mar 2007 12:42:56 +0000

Busy Busy Busy.
Back in a week, or whenever.

All That Glitters Is Probably A Toy Horse Made In China

Kira — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 04:14:33 +0000

Somehow a lot of the mommy friends I have acquired have girls. Not all, but quite a few. My son seems to get along fine with all of them, but when we go to their houses I notice more and more, that the toys have become, over time, more gender-oriented.
That’s not to say that there aren’t a few cars or dinosaurs or what not here and there, and the “gender neutral” stuff. But seemingly many of the “girl” toys fall into one of these categories: dolls, dolls you can brush their hair, ponies, ponies you can brush their hair, princesses you can brush their hair, furry cuddly animals that you can brush their hair, etc. Not much in the way of dinosaurs, but if they made dinosaurs “for girls”, I bet you could brush their hair, too.

If I wanted to make the most popular girl toy ever, it would be a pink-fairy-princess-baby-pony-kitty with dyeable, styleable, hair and makeup, and stylish clothes. With lots of rhinestones and glitter. OH and of course a crown (and what am I missing here).
Most recently I was at one of these little girls houses, and T was the only boy his age there, in surrounded by many a girl and their ponies. T just found a lone dinosaur and played right along. Dinosaurs can ride along in little princess carriages, too, with all the other little ponies.
And these ponies weren’t merely just regular My Little Pony ponies. I was informed that the ponies have antennas because they are - get this - fairy ponies (or perhaps all you mothers of girls know this stuff and I am just out of the loop). To me, that is not merely girly — it’s doubly girly. Kind of the girl equivalent of what would be doubly-boyish — a race-car superhero. Or, a dinosaur-truck.

I’ve always been a fan of the “gender neutral” toys. I loved my legos and I played with them until my early teens (although I am not as bad off as this guy who is still at it). T is a big fan of those kinds of “works for either” toys - bristle blocks, legos, animals. Given the choice though, he often prefers the dinosaur, truck and car, and all that other boy stuff, most of which I don’t “get” much at all. Every time I read another book that tells me the difference between a excavator and a back hoe loader, I read it but I am holding my nose on the inside. The dinosaur stuff isn’t so bad, at least for me!…It is a break from all that car and truck stuff which I am so bored with. Oh well, he likes it.
But when I was a little girl I did have my semi-sickly girly indulgences. I loved my model horses like many girls do, and my Barbies, (which I used to make clothes out of tissues and scotch tape for them). If they had had the My Little Ponies back then, I would have probably been into them.
With my grown-up taste, though, I now find them aesthetically displeasing. The strangest thing to me is reflecting back on that Slumber Party that I went to (the sex toy and etc. party) that some of the “toys” I saw there, especially the pink ones with the animals on them, kind of reminded me of the ponies.
Or maybe that is just my disturbed mind.
For me I think it is a tie… the “boy” toys and “girl” toys are equally obnoxious. What do you think?

Is It Really Too Much To Ask… Seriously?!!

Kira — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 15:17:16 +0000

If two of the kids in a preschool class have food allergies, and there’s a birthday party with cupcakes the allergic kids can’t eat, how hard is it to drop the parents’ of the allergic kids a simple email to let them know, so the parents of the allergic children can bring cupcakes in for their own kids?
I don’t expect every mom to bake a special way for my own son (although many of the moms have done that). I just would have liked an email so I could have brought something in — so my son and another kid wouldn’t have been stuck eating just fruit while everyone else had cupcakes.

Deep Dark Mom Secret?

Kira — Thu, 15 Mar 2007 15:48:05 +0000

I’ve been “tagged” by my friend Emma to reveal some deep, dark truth about moms. I am hard pressed to think of any real dark, deep truth about moms that hasn’t already been written about. Still here’s my stab at it, although it isn’t particularly deep and dark:

Moms resent the childless.
They resent how their feet still fit into little, fashionable shoes. And how they can still afford those little, fashionable shoes, and have somewhere to wear them to.
They resent their perky little T and A’s. And their nice, neat, not-extra-wide bellybuttons.
They resent hearing about how they slept in until 11 on a weekend.
They resent their unwelcome parenting advice… unless they’ve been a full-time nanny.
They resent their pre-pregnancy metabolisms.
They resent their spontaneous lifestyles, spending frivolous money on impractical, single-life things.
They resent the freedom they have to put those impractical, single life (and frequently breakable) things on low display shelves without little fingers getting to them.

Of course resentment sits on the shelf right next to envy, right? And we moms know how the childless don’t have little bedwarmers to crawl into bed with them on those weekend mornings, even if they do get up at 7.

And The Final Color is… Drumroll Please..

Kira — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 03:20:54 +0000

One of my dear friends has a strange obsession with curtains… nearly a curtain fetish.
She is always looking for the “ultimate” curtains. She has gone through so many sets for her living room that they pile up in her basement. I think she has finally settled on a set of curtains for her livingroom… maybe.
As for me, I seem to have a problem for the color of my kitchen. Today I painted it, again. A nice unoffensive shade of off-white, kind of the color of melted vanilla ice cream. Vanillin, probably named that by some queeny interior decorator guy, as most of the colors have foofy names. Vanillin is a color that hardly anyone could argue with. But it has taken about 8 years to get to this point. That’s right, 8 years.
You’d think… I have been doing painting since the mid-90s; I have a degree in art; my husband studied art for years; he’s been a painting contractor for more years; we are both artists, we should be able to pick something for a kitchen, right?
Nope.
Of course my husband and I over the years have had very different visions for the house. His initial impulse is always to paint everything bright white. that is fine, but hey, I’m a woman and I want a little but of something to the walls here. Sure, artwork looks best on a white or gray wall, but let’s have a little homey ambiance, right? This is one of the few things I miss about being single — being able to decorate my way without negotiating everything.
My husband and I tried out so many colors over the years on one particular wall, that an archaeologist examining the wall 200 years from now would have a field day psychoanalysing our house’s former residents. It was bright blue. Cobalt blue. It was “Zendo” brown. It was orange. And we argued about it. We threatened each other with calling up an interior decorator about it.
Then we settled on a rosy brick color. That was a couple of years ago. And we got sick of it. There was something just a bit too… I don’t know… PeptoBismol-y about it? It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t… THE color.
So we decided to paint it white. But what white? That took days. I painted it white and didn’t like the shade of white.
And then my husband gave up and said “Whatever you want dear,” which made things a little easier and I picked a color that I liked and he could tolerate.
Vanillin.
He gets to pick the living room color. And damn I am not painting this kitchen again. I better love it for the next 8 years.

As For That Party…

Kira — Sun, 11 Mar 2007 15:27:37 +0000

It was fun, I was highly entertained. It wasn’t that hard for me to conclude though, that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I ended up not buying anything.
However there are some sexual enhancement aids that this woman’s company didn’t have. Perhaps if I see her again I will have to suggest them to her:

1) Babysitter in a Bottle. Just pop it open, and there you are: a nice, nerdy, child-adoring, social-life-free babysitter who works for cheap and stays overnights on Saturdays

2)Early Bedtime Pills (infant and child formula): To insure you have an evening together with your spouse, giving these pills to your kids will make sure you evening gets off to a great start

3)Housework Genie: Just let ‘er out of the bottle, and all your work is done, so you can enjoy an evening of fun with your spouse

4)Instant Power Outtage: Because nothing gets you (or him) in the mood like having the TV, Computer, and video games off, with nothing else to do in the dark.

Perhaps you have some suggestions too?

Got Food Allergy?

Kira — Fri, 09 Mar 2007 04:08:54 +0000

While sitting at the opthamologist’s office again (clogged tear ducts… weird) I had too much time to browse the reading material but all of it was lousy, so I picked up a Family Circle. It actually wasn’t that bad, lots of cute craft ideas for things I will probably not have time to do. I did happen to notice one ad that kind of peeved me:

On the surface it looks rather innocuous, and a lot of people would have a hard time thinking why anyone would have a problem with it: A mom and a baby (some celebrity I don’t know); mom has a milk mustache like all those other “Got Milk” ads. Perfectly innocent looking; the print is too small for me to read here, but I remember what I read in the eye doctor’s office: It advocated milk products for weight loss for mom, obviously targeting the new mother who wants to lose the extra pounds that she put on during that pregnancy.
What the ad is missing, in my mind of course, is a big warning. The fact that milk doesn’t always do a body good. Never mind the fact that it can be difficult to digest for some adults; it can be terrible for the nursing mother who is passing on allergens to her baby. That milk ingested by the mother is passed on to baby and can be a very (more than you think!) common cause of “colic”, “reflux” and digestive problems in infants, and that many babies are allergic or intolerant of milk. That by consuming milk while nursing or feeding dairy formula to your child, you may be causing stomach problems or allergy problems for your child.
Consider this: of the playgroup that I was in when my child was an infant, 2 of the 7 or so babies ended up being allergic to milk, one of which was mine. Nursing mothers these days are frequently told not to consume peanuts and nuts, but you rarely hear that nursing mothers are supposed to stop eating dairy.
I know of one baby (friend of a friend’s baby) who almost died last year because of it!
Don’t get me wrong, for the majority of infants it fine. They aren’t bothered by it in breastmilk, they tolerate dairy formula. But for a number of babies, it is not.
I do like dairy products. I don’t consume them as much; we don’t keep that much of it in the house. And hopefully my son will outgrow his allergy by the time he is twelve. (If I am lucky!) Had I been a little better educated on the subject, I would have saved my son some digestive suffering he had as an infant - rash, colic and diarrhea the tests could not find cause for, and now in retrospect seems so obvious what was causing it.
When I rule the world (no time soon), ads like this would have a little asterisk on them: *consuming milk while nursing may cause colic, diarrhea, reflux and give your child a dairy allergy, if your infant experiences these symptoms discontinue use and consult a physician. And remember, millions of Asians have done fine for thousands of years without it!

Not Your Mother’s Tupperware Party

Kira — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 01:54:49 +0000

This coming weekend I will be attending something a bit out of the ordinary for me. I’d read about these kinds of parties on other weblogs, but I’d never been to one. It’s a Slumber Party, and no, it’s not like those childhood slumber parties you went to as a kid, except the fact that it is all girls. I think it is more like a tupperware party, except the products are X-rated and don’t keep your food fresh.
Really this not my thing so much, I’m such a vanilla person. I really have no need for a $90 vibrator shaped like a dolphin, or creams and potions. But as one of my friends said, “It will be a hoot”, and this person begged me to go. So I will go, and probably have a good time. I imagine I will be sitting around with giggling gaggle of geese, passing around the Tickle His Pickle Book and snickering along with the rest of them.

I Think I Should Have Scanned That National Geographic Video First

Kira — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 19:01:01 +0000

(While watching a pack of crocodiles violently tear a wildebeest apart)

“Daddy, what are the crocodiles doing to the wildebeests?”

“They are eating them.”

“No, daddy, I think the crocodiles just want them to come in the water and swim with them.”

What Lurks Inside

Kira — Sat, 24 Feb 2007 00:57:54 +0000

The other night I thought I would do something humorous and silly, so I drew a crude diagram of my husband’s brain.

Anyone who knows my husband will have to decide on it’s accuracy. Notice the large dedication to Art and Religion and Ravens Football. I almost didn’t put baseball in because I think he has given up on the Baltimore Orioles.
Of course then he had to draw a diagram of my brain after that:

Some of it is accurate in my opinion, but some of it isn’t. I really don’t think about who’s gay very much. And I talk on the phone as much as the average woman. But it’s true, I do know a lot of 80’s music lyrics.

8 Stupid, Embarrassing Moments in My Life

Kira — Wed, 21 Feb 2007 02:54:13 +0000

I think I have more than my share. In rough chronological order:

1)In 3rd grade, I went miniature golfing and, while chasing a ball that had gone down a hill, fell off an 8 foot wall into a stone-lined pool with a couple feet of water in it, and a fountain. Bruised and soaked, I managed to still place 3rd at the birthday party.

2)Also in 3rd grade, walked into the boys bathroom by mistake at my elementary school. Thankfully didn’t bump into anyone in the bathroom, but got caught by an older kid leaving who gave me a hard time about it. Had no idea what the urinals were for.

3)At some point in early elementary school, as we were leaving a family restaurant with my parents, I noticed two other girls giving me the evil eye and decided to give them the evil eye back, smugly. Until I realized that I had toilet paper hanging out of my pants in the back.

4)At another point in elementary school, one day I was running bathwater for my bath. Realizing that all the clean towels were in the laundry room, my entirely naked self darted out to the laundry room, to get a clean towel… only to realize that the teenage boy living next door and his mother had decided to drop in for a visit.

5)In late elementary school, the girl who had no little brother and who had never babysat a little boy or had seen one naked, asked a carpool full of girls “What are BALLS?” “You don’t know what BALLS are?” they skoffed. And no one would tell me!

6)In junior high, I was elected “most gullible” of my yearbook.

7)As a freshman in high school, I got my tongue stuck in my braces. It took about a half hour to get them unstuck in the nurse’s office.

8)In the mid-nineties I went on a date to Ferry Bar Park (which is on the bay). We were lying on a blanket making out on the beach, until we noticed we were being bitten by hundreds of sand fleas. Bitten all over our bodies, I had over 50 bites on one foot alone. I had an allergic reaction to the bites and swelled up so much that had to go to the doctor to get oral steroids for the bites. (And the guy totally wasn’t worth the bites, that loser).

I can only think of 8 right now (at least that I feel comfortable revealing publicly) but I know there are way more.
So what about you? Any you care to share?

Pink, It’s The New Black

Kira — Wed, 21 Feb 2007 02:29:00 +0000

Yesterday, because my primary care didn’t know what to do with me anymore, I dragged myself off to the opthamologist, to deal with what is my fourth bout of conjunctivitis, a.k.a pink eye, in perhaps the last year.
I left with numb eyes, two prescriptions, and a sense of doubt. I guess he knows what he is doing, I think the place I went to is reputable. But the guy looked younger than I am and had a slightly perplexed look on his face when I told him my story. The kind of face that said, I don’t know why you keep getting this, perhaps you are lying when you say you change your bedsheets every two weeks. And I know I shouldn’t let this bother me, but the walls of the waiting room were covered with photos of famous people I don’t care about, getting their eyes worked on, like Kenny G. Ew. (I agree with Pat Metheny, Kenny’s talents are too teeny. But I guess even mediocre musicians need contact lenses).

Anyhow I hope he has my solution, people keep looking at me funny. Although now instead of looking like I am stoned I merely look like I am crying (until this goes away have to find a way to work this to my advantage).

You Takea My Spot, I Breaka You Face

Kira — Fri, 16 Feb 2007 18:06:43 +0000

Yesterday I managed to get out for the first time in days. Other than my alley which was a slippery ice slick, the roads were mostly fine.
On my way out to the suburbs, I noticed something I was surprised to see outside of Baltimore. There, right on a major street in suburban Towson, were lawn chairs reserving their respective parking spots. Really, I thought that was the kind of thing they do just in the city. But apparently, the hillbillies, or whomever, have either moved out to the ‘burbs, or learned a thing or two from the city folks.

(Here’s a picture I found of the same kind of thing done in Chicago, although it’s just as popular in Baltimore).
For those of you who are not living in Baltimore, people around here get ballistic if you take “their” curbside parking spot. So, the plastic chairs, lawn chairs or any old chair from the basement, “saves” the parking space.
Never mind the legal ramifications of it, it’s theirs and don’t begin to take it. In our neighborhood, you are taking your life into your hands if you take their parking spot and they will be sure to let you know it! About 10 years ago,we made the mistake of parking in someone’s unmarked “spot”. What was left for us, carefully taped to our front windshield in a nice plastic baggie to keep it from getting wet from the snow, was a little note saying:
Park your van on your own damn alley
Wasn’t that a nice neighborly thing to do.
So for you visiting the Baltimore city area in times of ice and snow, beware the vigilante parking police. Remember a snow-free spot that you have come across is not necessarily yours, so don’t stay long. And by God, you are jeopardizing bodily health if you touch their lawn chair.

My Eyes Have A Seasonal Glow

Kira — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 00:35:07 +0000

Despite my last bitter-sounding post, my Valentine’s day has been pleasant, snowed in with my family. Roses and Chocolate for me, and chocolate and valentines for my two men. Hubby is being absolutely sweet and so it the little man. And I did what I do whenever I am snowed in - I baked. I made a chocolate pie.
T spent the morning holding the valentine I made, and thanking me profusely (gee! it was so easy!) and crawling around with it. Crawling, because last night he somehow hurt/twisted his ankle and hasn’t been walking on it today, and it hurts him to put pressure on it. Poor guy. It has been disconcerting, but it isn’t swollen. The doctor told us to give him ibuprofen and if it isn’t better by tomorrow, then he will be off to an orthopedist. That is, if I can get out of here, due to the ice.
Our goal then tomorrow is to get out of our snowed- and iced-in ~~street~~ alley, in case I need to take him to the doctor.
On another note… I have, what else but pink eye for the 4th time in the last 12 months! So, if you see a woman who looks like she is stoned and crying with a gimpy boy spinning wheels in the snow… you will know it is me.

Update 2/15: Thankfully boy is walking again (sigh of relief) and unfortunately suffering from a wicked case of cabin fever, literally bouncing off the walls.

Happy Valentines Day

Kira — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 14:04:13 +0000

A little valentine message to all my past loves, past likes, and past whatevers.
To a few of you, if I was a semi-crappy girlfriend, I’m sorry. I really am. There were times when was… (a bit) well, mixed-up. I think what I learned from you has made me a better wife.
To most of you, however, you were semi-crappy boyfriends. Never mind the semi, for some of you. You should be sorry. But, you makes me appreciate my husband.
I hope you are loyal and faithful. I hope you are dedicated and loving. And not superficial. I hope you buy your wive/girlfriend thoughtful, personal gifts.
I hope that you inform your significant others of any diseases you might have, if you have any.*
I hope you communicate what you mean.
Or maybe, I hope you are sitting home, scratching your beer gut (or your bald head), wishing for something to do on Valentines day?
No, that would be bitter. But still, for your girlfriends/wives sakes, I hope you don’t flirt with other women (Or, maybe I hope your wives/girlfriends flirt with… other girls. Ha).

*No I don’t have any diseases, not that kind anyway!

Too Young To Care

Kira — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 02:20:30 +0000

Both my husband and I are artists. Being the individualist he is, he is really isn’t that much into making art, and is much more into playing with construction trucks or reading about dinosaurs or planets or pretending to play football. Occasionally though, he does like to make birthday cards for different people. Here is one he just made for his friend’s birthday:

The funniest thing about this birthday card is that… well, of course he can’t read much, and he’s 4… so he has no idea what Be Mine means or how it is spelled. But in a couple of years, he would be horrified to know he gave a pink card with a sparkly Be Mine sticker to one of his rough and tough male friends.

The Pain Never Ends

Kira — Tue, 06 Feb 2007 23:56:26 +0000

Hubby: I’m sad.

Me: Why?

Hubby: No more football until next season.

Me: (smiles in happiness at the thought of no more football)

T: I’m sad.

Me: Why?

T: No more football.

Hubby: But there’s always… DVD! Superbowl’s 1 through 10 on DVD! Woo Hoo!

T: Yay!

Me: ARRRRGGGHHHHHH!

The Real Me

Kira — Sun, 04 Feb 2007 02:25:27 +0000

I think it is funny how people put “avatars” of themselves on their web pages that don’t look much like the photos that are up on the pages. The avatars usually look much better - thinner, younger, more put together. Avatars don’t have under eye circles, wrinkles, stretch marks, and under-arm flaps (they have plus-size avatars at Yahoo, but they aren’t morbidly obese, just slightly plus).
However, I think I have come up with an accurate resemblance of my current appearance in my Yahoo Avatar. Wanna see?

In actuality, it is pretty accurate except I never wear pink… and I can’t find a way to make an avatar shove a tissue up it’s nose.

Art

Kira — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 18:15:22 +0000

For those of you that live in Baltimore and are interested, my friend Joe and I will have artwork at at Common Ground Cafe in Hampden for the month of February. And they make a great latte, too.

Common Ground is located at:

819 West 36th Street
Baltimore, MD 21211
(410) 235- 5533

Hours: 7 a.m. to 5 p.m., 7 days a week

A New Brilliant Way To Waste Time, Avoiding What I Really Need To Do

Kira — Tue, 30 Jan 2007 14:27:36 +0000

I did a really dorky thing. Wanna hear about it? Sure, you do.
I installed the Smart Bookmarks Bar for Firefox which makes your bookmarks bar look like this:

Just favicons and no words, unless you mouse over the bookmarks.
and then I installed Favicon Picker 2 so I could assign icons for the stuff on my toolbar that doesn’t already have an icon. I even made some 32 x 32 icons with photoshop.
Yes I know, I am a total geek… not necessarily because I did it, but because of the love of the way my bookmarks bar looks.
I am ready for my Star Wars Fan Club Membership now.

That Nice Boy In School

Kira — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 21:50:26 +0000

This Friday is our annual preschool parent-teacher conference. I’m not expecting to hear much that I don’t already know. I talk to his teachers all the time and I pretty much have the picture on his behavior and development — he is developing fine and is well behaved at school.
Never mind what my son is like at home (he has settled down a lot at home too), he is pretty angelic at school. And compared to most of the boys in his class who are, by comparison, absolutely running around CRAZY, he must seem like the easiest kid. The class is chocked full of boys - 12 total, and when I drop my son off in the morning sometimes, I think I made a wrong turn and ended up at the zoo. Sometimes I feel bad for the teachers, they are stuck there with that pack of wild animals to settle down and try to organize them into civilized activities. They really need whips and chairs.
That’s not to say these boys are bad kids (really what 4-year-olds are bad? They’re FOUR!) The all seem okay, although some of them are a bit rough and immature. It’s amazing what a year can do… perhaps some of these boys will settle down. I hope, for their parents sake and for the sake of their parents furniture and personal possessions.
I’m happy to say though, that my son has gravitated towards one of the nicer, mellower boys in school. They play well together and both love trucks. It’s nice to see your kid making a good choice early on, choosing a nice friend. At least he seems nice, for now. And the mom does too.
Of course, I have to put an asterisk next to that, since I don’t know her that well, but I will find out at a playdate we will have this week. My requirements for the moms really aren’t too great.
1) Put up with me
2)Return phone calls or emails within 3 days
3)If you are a major Christian or belong to an evangelical faith, don’t God-talk and proselytize excessively
4) If you kid tries to wail on my kid, take some kind of action and don’t just sit there, do something.
Not too much to ask, right?
Of course I always hope for something a little more with the moms… something in common. Reading material, music, art, writing, hobbies, activities. But at this age, I’ll compromise for a nice kid who plays well with mine.
Oh yeah, and having good snacks in the house — that is a major plus.

Fear Of Numbers

Kira — Sun, 28 Jan 2007 19:35:55 +0000

Among the discipline techniques I’ve been employing lately at our household, I’ve found a new favorite.
Counting.
Fear the AWFUL TERROR of hearing Mom say THREE very scary numbers!!!
Actually, I rarely get past One. Sometimes I don’t even have to to actually count, I just threaten to count.
I don’t want to have to count now, T, don’t make me COUNT!
I don’t know what kids are so afraid of with the counting thing, but I suppose he imagines something really awful is on the other side of hearing three. I haven’t gotten to Three in months. Usually my biggest tactic is just saying, ONE. It’s amazing how ONE makes him start moving.
I don’t know how long this will last, but I love how it works and I’m reveling in it — while it does.

Blue Monday: Not Just A New Order Song

Kira — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 04:35:11 +0000

T.S. Eliot wrote “April is The Cruelest Month…”, but for me it was always January.
January seemed to be my least favorite, bringing about a minor case of the blues. Greyness and cold was not my thing when I lived in Southern California, and so can imagine how much I don’t cherish the winter greyness of Baltimore winters.
I don’t think I’m alone in this. In fact, my husband just told that a psychologist concluded that yesterday, January 22, was the most depressing day of the year.
To quote the article:

His equation takes into account six factors: bad weather, unpaid Christmas bills, post-Christmas fatigue, failed New Years resolutions, low motivation levels and the feeling of a need to take action. Taken together, they calculate to equal “Blue Monday.”

But for some reason, this January hasn’t been that miserable. In fact, my mood Monday wasn’t bad at all. While my son was in school, and I worked on art for several hours straight which never happens. I could chock it up to a few good things happening (excited about art show, cheaper health insurance that will save us thousands a year). Or, it could be that January wasn’t all that cold - I’ve only worn my gloves twice this winter so far.
Or maybe it was the rippling after-effects of Global Orgasm Day held last month, December 22nd? You never know! Ha.
So how was your Blue Monday?

Artsy Fartsy

Kira — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 17:34:30 +0000

I’m currently preoccupied with getting my ~~life~~ art together for a show with a friend next month (more on that in the future).
It’s been so long since I have shown my work, I have forgotten how much work can go into it. Of course I am trying to do it inexpensively, which is irritating; it’s expensive to frame art even on the cheap. I can just hope that whatever I sell covers the framing, at least.
The Good News: I won’t have to do split the gross sales with a gallery, which can take up 50%. The Bad news: I am showing in a cafe (ah, the humility!) but then again, they don’t take any of the profit.
Meanwhile I am so sick of looking at my art, I am so ready to get rid of it. I guess that is a good thing, since sometimes one can get too attached to what one makes, and then it piles up in the studio er, uh, basement.
Needless to say I have been distracted from my weblog, not that I had much to say right now anyhow (I keep thinking I am going to quit this weblog and I never do). It hasn’t been a very eventful month.
However, if you are interested (and have some bucks to spend on art, ha ha!), and want to see some of my art (some of which is available, some of which is sold), just Register if you haven’t done so already, and then click on My Art under “Categories” on the Sidebar.

On Not Liking Football

Kira — Sun, 14 Jan 2007 03:46:52 +0000

When I first met my husband, I had no idea he was into football in any way, shape or form. It was the mid 1990s, and Baltimore didn’t have an NFL football team at the time. He was uninterested in watching college games or the Redskins games, so I was clueless. And, I thought he was an old punk rocker; and what could be more un-punk rock, than football?
Well as it turns out, I was very wrong. Old punk rockers, to my dismay, can be into football. Once the Baltimore Ravens became our team, my husband became an avid fan. You’d never know by outward appearances (he would never wear a logo tee even though he was given one), but for approximately 3 hours a week during football season, he is glued to the edge of the bed, glossy eyed, staring at the game.
And, all week, all day long I get to hear more than I ever wanted to know about Steve McNair or Ray Lewis or Kyle Boller or Johnathan Ogden. I get the rundown on the injuries list, I get the local news on the state of the team repeated to me. No matter how hard I try I just can’t get into it.
I’ve never been much into any sport, anyhow. I went to a few high school games when I was 15 or 16 but, it was more to hang out at night with my friends, than watch the game. And, I’ve never been particularly athletic. But mostly - I just find it incredibly boring. I don’t get the point of it. Of course, to each their own, and my husband isn’t into Scrabble like I am. So I suppose I could bore him to death reciting lists of two letter words to him or discussing strategies for using up all my letters, right?
I do feel a little outnumbered here. My son has been a bit brainwashed by the whole Ravens thing because of dad. He was all suited up in purple Ravens sweatsuit bought by his half-brother, ready to watch the game with his dad. Which was okay with me, I got a little time to read a book. And dad had a 4-year-old jumping on his back and tackling him for three hours.
I hate to piss off any Ravens fans, but as much as part of me would have liked our team to win the game tonight (for the sake of the city and my husband), deep down I was mostly kinda happy that the Ravens lost the playoffs to the Colts tonight. I thought to myself, ah, a break, until next year (hubby isn’t into the Baltimore Orioles, and they kinda suck anyhow).
But then my husband said to me after the Ravens lost, Okay, well now I have to figure out what team I’m going to root for. So to my dismay, the Ravens being out of the playoffs is not the end of the football season for the Cranky Mommy household.
Damn.

Sometimes Being A Reject Is A Good Thing

Kira — Thu, 11 Jan 2007 04:53:28 +0000

Today was my big do-my-civic-duty-or-else day — I went to jury duty for the first time.
I had been really dreading it all week; mostly because a long trial would require me to put my son in daycare. I kept wondering why I was never called before I had my son. Does the court have something against twenty-somethings? There were not many of them there. Probably not, I figure that a lot of twenty-somethings are college students who are not registered to vote in Maryland, and therefore never end up being called for duty. Either that or they know something I don’t know. I will say that today was one of the few times wish I was still breastfeeding… to get out of jury duty!
Anyhow, I packed up my lunch, 592 pages of nice boring non-fiction that I keep checking out from the library and never finishing, and wished for the best. I caught a ride with my friend who works downtown, to arrive at 8:10 — 25 minutes after I’d woken up (I didn’t look pretty but hey, this wasn’t a beauty contest). And then I sat, and sat, and sat at the courthouse… with 900 or so other miserable-looking people who all look like they didn’t want to be there, either.
I didn’t get sent to a courtroom until 11:45 — so in the meantime I learned about the 54-year-old lady next to me’s fibroid problem, and how her son was shot and killed at age 24 by a 15-year-old who robbed him. And I learned about the woman next to her’s diabetes problem and her fibroids, and the fact that she is a Godmother to a child who is one of ten children. The mother is 31. And we all talked about birth control. See, I will talk to anybody about anything!
I watched parts of a bad movie about a spelling bee. I also learned, from my nice boring nonfiction book, all about the collapse of the earliest settlement of Nordic Greenland and why it failed (And did you know the original Nordic settlers of Greenland didn’t eat any fish? But I won’t bore you with that… you will have to buy the book and bore yourself).
Anyhow…. what was I saying…
So, I got to sit around and look at glorious, but decaying, 100 year-old architecture, and hundreds of grumpy people eating snack food out of vending machines, occasionally laughing at the bad movie. And I had a number, instead of a name, for the day: 36. Just like guys in jail (or one of the characters on Get Smart. Agent 36 sounds much better than Juror 36). I could have ended up on the big local scandal case, a Baltimore city cop accused of rape, but they were understanding of the childcare difficulty. Same with the assault case I didn’t get on.
I received $15 bucks for my day’s labor of mostly sitting, intersperced by standing in line, for 8 hours. Not much, but it covered the terrible $4 soup I got at local cafe and the $3.50 day-pass bus fare to get home (boy the fares have gone up since I stopped riding!).
And, I actually set some kind of personal record for hours spent away from my son. Amazing (and kind of bizarre) to think that I have never been away from him for 8 hours before.
Net profit -$7.50. Not having to go back again tomorrow, or for at least another year — priceless.

Kids Vs. Cats

Kira — Mon, 08 Jan 2007 05:33:50 +0000

After reading way too many a blog over the last several years, I have come to this conclusion… there are 2 kinds of people out there:

1)Married people who take too many pictures of their kids.
2)Single people who take too many pictures of their cats.

(I’m sure there’s a few other types out there, but I’m generalizing for the sake of arguement).
As many gripes as I have with category 1, category 2 peeves me much, much more. In fact, I know quite a few single people who are way, way way into their cats, in the way that people who don’t have kids can, because they have the time and energy to lavish on their furry friends, instead of kids.
As much as I love them, some of my single friends are just mere inches away from being one of those crazy cat ladies we have all heard about. These are the types of people who, when you tell them that your kid did something unsual, they will say my cat does that too!
And they have way too many photos of their cats. For as much as newborns all look alike, CATS ALL LOOK EVEN MORE ALIKE. Okay, there are more than subtle differences but a cat is a cat — same cat brains, different fur colors. Big deal.
Of course all the cat lovers are shaking their fingers at me. But truly, most pictures of cats on your blogs are the most boring things I have ever seen. That is, unless they are hanging off a ceiling lamp or something.
Really, I don’t have anything against cats. I like cats, other than the fact that they make me sneeze (other than my friend Joe’s cat, who is absolutely insane and needs kitty cat antipsychotics. But other than that cat, really I have nothing against them).
So single (or married) people out there, if you simply must take multiple photos of your cat, and must post it to your blog, make it interesting — stick them on funny furniture. hang them from precarious places. Dress them in strange outfits. Teach them a cool trick. (Actually, this video of talking cats isn’t bad). Anything but another boring cat photo.
Or — I’ll start posting pictures of newborns, in revenge.

(postnote 1/9: the above link was incorrect, i fixed it… if you want to see talking cats)

Seeking Lonely Pie

Kira — Thu, 04 Jan 2007 03:34:04 +0000

Every woman has her weakness, I suppose. Some women turn to drugs. Some women turn to sex. Those who know me well, know that my weakness is deeper and more complex than that. And it comes in a can (no, I’m not talking about the nitrous oxide in the can, you sicko).

This is what my husband calls Kira Crack.
I know it’s not the real thing, but I love it! And, its only 15 calories for two tablespoons! But then again, who measures? Sometimes I feel dignified and use a spoon… more often I feel down and dirty and just spray the thing in my mouth.
The fact is, I’ve had a lifelong “problem” with whipped cream — I can even remember once in jr. high throwing up in the girl’s bathroom, after I’d had the brilliant idea that whipped cream was good on simply anything, including breakfast cereal. Very bad idea.
So, I’ve kept a commitment to keep the evil stuff out of my house — except — for around the holidays. What else goes well on pie? (there’s ice cream, but never mind that).
I made several pies, all were well enjoyed by friends and family. The pie is nearly gone, and guess what is still in my refrigerator? And guess who is sitting here typing right now with a stomach ache? Yup, you guessed it.
Anyhow if anyone wants to come over and relieve me of my impulse control problem and take this can of whipped cream, just feel free to stop by. I don’t have the heart to throw it in the trash, yet.

Bothered In Toyland

Kira — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 01:22:46 +0000

Ah, I’m back. Back to the mess that I call — home.
I am surrounded by way too many xmas toys of my sons, that don’t seem to have homes yet. It’s amazing how many toys he has. Sickening, actually. To think of all the petrol that went to making all the plastic toys that inhabit our house, it’s enough to think that an oil shortage was caused by it. As much as friends and family know that we live in teeny-tiny house with no room for anything, they seem to have has a lapse in rememberign that. Oh well, Goodwill and other charities will get another huge donation of older toys.
It’s amazing too, how many gifts that my son got for his birthday and xmas that just had me scratching my head wondering, why?
Of course, not from other moms of small children, of course. These moms tend to know better and don’t buy stuff:
- that is extremely loud and has a lot of buttons to press to make noise
- that is totally age-inappropriate and is too complex for my son to use, or too babyish
- that breaks easily
- that has a zillion and one pieces to get lost
- that is ANOTHER stuffed animal
Undoubtedly the 100 piece puzzle and the like will come from a single person. Without fail though, every gift-giving occasion, I get a toy that is irritating in one way or another, even if my son loves it. If it doesn’t have all the above forementioned problems, it is something else.
- it takes a half an hour to get out of the packaging, another half an hour to assemble, and comes without the C batteries it needs
- it has a zillion small parts that are surprising fun for a 4 year old to throw like confetti
- it requires constant adjusting and refixing, to avoid incessant whining from your child that it is broken
Sometimes, though, you have no one to blame but myself. This year’s big toy was a purchase somewhat based on the nag factor — Moon Sand.

My son, who rarely watches non-PBS television, saw the Saturday morning commercial for Moon Sand and so all I heard for about a month is “Moon Sand! I want Moon Sand for Christmas”! A few viewings and he had that commercial memorized.
So, Mom, Dad, and Santa obliged. He really does like the Moon Sand. It is pretty neat, neater than playdough. But messier. It gets everywhere, despite my best efforts to control it. In the carpet, in the treads of my shoes, on the quilt, everywhere. Moon Sand is fine for one kid, but forget about 3 kids playing with it together. That is asking for trouble. And keep the vacuum handy.

Santa Leaves Crumbs

Kira — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 05:20:25 +0000

Santa doesn’t just leave presents around here.

I learned that from my father. My father would handpaint a beautiful card on watercolor paper from Santa thanking me for the cookies, with wonderful caligraphy. He’d eat most of the cookies, leaving just a few crumbs. I wish I still had one of those cards.
Of course, when I was a kid I always found it suspicious that Santa’s handwriting resembled my father’s a whole lot (and his style of painting, too) but I suspended my belief out of sheer will of wanting to believe. And, when a little friend of mine blabbed to me that Santa wasn’t real, I was left with the thought of what an elaborate little game my parents played with me … quite an act of love.
This generation is not quite up to totally hand-making a card this year… too busy. I did do it on my computer, with Word, and decorated it with glitter glue. But there’s a good side to that… my son will never recognise the handwriting inside — Santa uses the handwriting font Zapfino.

(Note - Santa came a day early this year, since we have to travel. He sent me an email to tell me he could come early. Isn’t Santa technologically gifted?)

Holiday Zoo, Part 1

Kira — Sat, 23 Dec 2006 20:31:46 +0000

Hello all of you out there, you. I haven’t really been up to reading too many blogs lately. I’m busy. I’m overwhelmed. I’m kind of out of it.
Celebrating is damn hard work!
It seems my holiday season resembles more the many days of Hanukah than Christmas, it stretches on so long. Last night was our first of 3 holiday dinners, at the house of my husband’s ex from his second marriage, and 2 of my husband’s kids from his first marriage. It’s always a bit stressful. Not because she’s my husband’s ex, but for other reasons.
My husband’s second wife, bless her heart, is the sweetest person but damn! She has got to be the latest and most disorganised person I have ever met. This year was pretty good — dinner was only two hours late. I helped her out in the kitchen, where every single flat surface is covered with a dish or chachke or something! We had to put some of the pots on the floor, their simply was no room. I even got in trouble for attempting to clean up, and accidently dumping in the sink her bowl of egg whites for the lemon meringue pie. Oops! Boy did she give me a look… but I swear it just looked like one more dirty dish.
She was so behind she hadn’t even wrapped the presents, so she covered them with a tablecloth and pulled them out of the tablecloth, sometimes forgetting which present was for whom. And, she couldn’t find ours and kept searching upstairs for them. I’m sure they are somewhere in her many piles of stuff.
Also marring the evening is that my son has changed his mind on the potty training and has decided to go back to holding it for days and days… that is, until he has a “little accident” right when I am starving and finally get to my plate of food. And then another. So much for my son being potty trained… I think I jumped the gun .
The pièce de résistance was when one of my husband’s kids — the drug addict, who’s eyes were already at half-mast most of the meal, went into the bathroom for a really long time and came out high as a kite, eyes rolling back in his head, and was all falling down and touchy feely with us, yelling he loved us across the yard as we left.
I will say it was a big shocker and highlight of the evening is that the Drug Addict, for the first time ever at the age of 24, bought presents for us. My jaw nearly hit the floor since year after year he’s never given his father anything, for any occasion.
I think I will eventually have time to laugh at our annual family event. But for now, I am needing a Valium for the rest of the holidays. Pronto.

No Coal In My Stocking

Kira — Wed, 20 Dec 2006 17:31:54 +0000

In the few weeks before Christmas you can see a remarkable change in people. They either turn into incredible a-holes, or they become sweet as can be. I do the best I can to be not one of those incredible a-holes, driving like a maniac, yelling at sales clerks (I may be cranky but I like to spread it around all the year instead of saving it for a few weeks before Christmas. Or maybe it’s a monthly thing, I dunno).
Today, for example, I was rear ended after dropping my son off at school. The woman who rear ended me and I both got out of our cars to take a look at the damage. It wasn’t that bad, I had two scratches on my bumper right where the license plate hit it.

She was in a-hole mode with out a leg to stand on, and all she had to say was “Didn’t you put your car in reverse?” Yeah right whatever lady, I was stopped at a light in drive with my foot on the break.
I took a look at the damage (her car looked fine) and assessed it quickly. I was kind of miffed because of her car-in-reverse-it’s-never-my-fault comment, but I also considered other parts of my car that were already scratched and didn’t look so hot:

Those two little scratches really didn’t depreciate my car at all. And being vendictive for her blaming me for the accident, although tempting, wasn’t worth it either. So I let her go on her way. Anyhow there’s nothing that can get improve this:

It’s the world’s most hideous car graphic. I suppose it’s supposed to make it look ’sporty’ or something, but I just think it looks bad.
So I guess that puts me on Santa’s “nice” list. Don’tcha think?

Too Early In The Morning For Spiritual Questions

Kira — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 15:35:41 +0000

While eating breakfast cereal this morning:

Mommy, did God make the bowls?

(long pause from me)

Um, honey, well some people believe that God made everything, but I suppose they believe the bowls weren’t made by God, but that God made Man, and Man made the bowls.

Oh.

Chews a bite of cereal.

What about plates?

*Sigh*

A Friggin’ Miracle

Kira — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 16:13:59 +0000

Funny how things happen all of the sudden. I spent so much time thinking about when the heck my son was going to finish potty training, and suddenly, out of the blue it seems, it is all done. The little lightbulb floating above his head went on, and he decided that he was going to do it, and that was that. At 4 years and 1.5 months. Finally!
Sometimes little things in life give you a little joy. Like no more pull-ups. Yay! The little plastic potty which he almost never used, is sitting on my front steps in the rain, because two Freecyclers consecutively were supposed to pick it up, and didn’t… oh well it will find a home eventually. Oh, and those useless potty books get to go to someone who needs them. More stuff out of my house. Yay!
And in more good news, I sold all 3 pieces in The Last Big Thing art auction… apparently there was a bidding war. I still don’t know how much I made yet.
I would have gone to The Last Big Thing, but I had another virus… I have been miserable for 3 weeks now with one, than another, coughing hacking virus, then secondary infection and pink eye. Woo hoo.
I guess the moral of this story is… well… there is no moral. Except that selling art and potty training are - good. And, coughing - bad. (Sorry that I can’t come up with anything better right now, I’m not feeling particularly brilliant. Maybe something better will come up when I am not hacking and coughing all night).

Thankful

Kira — Sun, 10 Dec 2006 04:00:03 +0000

This was written in my son’s class’ December newsletter last week. (names blurred for privacy)

Of course the ironic thing about it is that when the class wrote that, my son hadn’t hadn’t pooped on the potty in a couple months. But maybe he was working up to it … tonight, depite the obvious psychological potty training damage I have inflicted on him, he did do it, of his own accord.
Please let this be a trend! Before I get any gray hairs.

Not Dead Yet

Kira — Fri, 08 Dec 2006 18:24:43 +0000

For at least the last several years, perhaps monthly (or maybe more often),there has been a group of people stand on 40th Street in my neighborhood waving signs. The signs say “Honk For Peace” and “Bring The Troops Back” and the like (of course, anyone who knows me, knows that I always honk).
They’re pretty darn dedicated: they are out there in all kinds of weather, like today, with the bitter wind chill making it feel like the 20’s. The most interesting thing about them, is their age. Aside from one youthful looking person, I don’t think there is a brown hair in the bunch of them. They all look to be around 70 years old. Maybe older. I’ve seen a few of them in a wheelchair.
I don’t know who organizes this bunch. I imagine they are a group of elderly Quakers who live at the nearby retirement community and want to protest the war. I’ve got to wonder, though, where are all the young people out protesting with them in the icy cold?
Far be it from me to judge, since my standing-out-in-the-cold,-protesting-with-signs days are pretty much over. Still I gotta wonder where are the really young people? Are they too wrapped up in their ipods and cell phones? Too cool to wear their coats, too apathetically hip to care?
For what it is worth, I’ve got to hand it to this group of seniors for standing out in the cold for what they believe. I can only hope I am full of half as much piss and vinegar, when I am their age.

The Last Big Thing

Kira — Thu, 07 Dec 2006 13:02:33 +0000

Need Art for Christmas? Sure you do! In fact, buy my art (I have 3 pieces up for auction):

Don’t forget to buy your tickets (only a couple of days left!) for Hampden’s Annual Fundraiser:

THE LAST BIG THING!
–the Hampden Community Council’s second annual silent art auction and wine tasting fundraiser

Saturday, December, 9th 2006 7pm-?pm
Bikram Yoga Hampden
911 West 36th Street
on “the Avenue”

Tickets are on sale now !

Ticket Price:
$25.00 in advance
$35.00 at the door

Buy your tickets @ these Hampden Businesses:

Atomic Books
The Wine Source
Kiss N’ Make-Up

Or, get your tickets
online @ missiontix
http://www.missiontix.com/index.cfm?venue=-hd

for more info go to the Last Big Thing Myspace Page
( http://www.myspace.com/hcclastbigthing)

Doody

Kira — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 04:21:14 +0000

I don’t think I can get out of this one this time. I’m #36. If my number was 800 I might have a chance, but 36? No way.
Last time I had a jury duty notice, I wrote in a request for an exemption because I had no childcare and I was a nursing mother. I got a notice back stating that I had failed to show. *sigh*
I’m not against doing jury duty but I am not exactly looking forward to it. My husband gets called EVERY year. He did get on one semi-interesting trial several years ago. However it was “interesting” in the wrong way….
A released prisoner was accused of assaulting a prison guard on the street. He was convicted by the jury, but despite his long criminal record he was not returned to jail. Instead, as my husband was leaving the courthouse, the convicted fellow approached my husband on the courthouse steps in a threatening manner. The convicted guy was held back from attacking my husband by his relatives who were attempting to calm him down.
There is a plus side — apparently they do give you a little cash for your day(s) of service… something like 20 bucks. I think it is up from 15 — almost enough for the cab ride home.

Dueling Banjos In The City

Kira — Sat, 02 Dec 2006 20:34:07 +0000

There are rare occasions when my neighborhood has a, how should I put it… “special” surreal feeling.
Every now and then I think that feeling is all gone, because so many yuppies have moved in. Then there are days when I don’t — like today, when some odd neighbor put a nasty looking skinned deer, antlers and all, out with the trash. Those are the days I feel like I’m in some wierd movie with Dueling Banjos playing in the background. Or maybe Texas Chainsaw Massacre? I dunno.
The trashmen refused to pick it up (I don’t blame them). Animal control said they would take 48 hours to pick it up (at least it isn’t the middle of stinking hot summer). Gotta love city services!

Update: Thankfully the neighbor who put it there, finally removed it. He thought the trashmen would take it! (maybe they would, but only if you bribed them $20 bucks). I guessed it was one of two neighbors.. and instead of being the rat-shooting one, it was the kids-who-jump-on-a-trampoline-at-midnight one.

Too Old For My Cell Phone

Kira — Sat, 02 Dec 2006 01:48:56 +0000

I’ve had my cell phone for nearly two months now and my life has barely changed at all. I’ve made under ten calls on my pre-paid phone in the two months I have had it, most under a minute.
I haven’t even put any money on it yet. Virgin Mobile starts you out with $2.50 and you can watch videos to earn “minutes” for your cell phone with their program called Sugar Mama. Right now I have a little under $4 in minutes, just from watching these dumb videos. And boy are they dumb.
Part of the reason they seem so dumb to me is that I am not their target audience. It was clear from the very youthful (i.e. 14 year-old-looking) photos and language on the packaging that came with the phone, that their typical buyer is about 16 years old. Or younger. The videos they show are clearly meant for them. Most 35 36-year-olds don’t watch Behind The Music That Sucks, or plan on joining the Navy, or listen to the rap music of 2006, or need those Truth cigarette smoking prevention ads. And that is what I have been watching, mostly. Makes me feel damn old.

Also making me feel damn old is when I call Virgin Mobile on the phone, their automated voice system is supposed to sound young and youthful. Her name is “Simone” and the first thing she says is
“Hey, Wassup, I’m Simone”.
I don’t know how I feel about automated voice systems saying Wassup, but whatever, the phone works fine and I’ve earned minutes for my phone. And now I know more about a few things I didn’t before. Did you know that the Navy pays up to $70,000 for college? Or that tobacco companies tried to market sweet-flavored cigarettes? Or that Clipse has a new album out called Hell Hast No Fury?
Yeah, me neither.

Saving On The Xmas Wrapping Paper

Kira — Thu, 30 Nov 2006 15:04:52 +0000

I have already gotten a significant portion of my xmas shopping done. It really hasn’t been that hard this year, due in part to a new reliance on gift cards, which a number of people have told me they want this year.
I kind of like them and kind of hate them. Sure they make life easier, but they are particularly unfestive and impersonal. It’s kind of like saying You don’t trust me to buy you something, so I’ll save you the trouble of getting me the wrong thing and then you won’t have to return it. On the other hand, there are some people I wish would give me gift cards since although knowing me for years, seem clueless to my sense of style (or lack thereof) and buy me stuff that they would like to wear (for example, when have you ever seen me wear pink? I don’t wear pink, don’t buy me pink. I don’t feel like turning over a new pink leaf).
The whole idea of having a the great gift card exchange instead of the great gift exchange seems kind of goofy. To think that 2000 years ago a little babe in a manger (of questionable existance to me, but that isn’t the point) was born and therefore people trade off little plastic cards in rememberance of his birthday, is pretty odd.

Weighing In On My Birthday

Kira — Mon, 27 Nov 2006 18:34:11 +0000

Today I turned 36. I wasn’t so excited about entering my “late-thirties”, but I am feeling up about it now. Why?
Among other things, my husband got me a bathroom scale. I could have taken that as an insult but really — I’d requested one. But the really good news, was when I got on that scale and found I’d lost 5 pounds in the last couple of weeks. Despite Thanksgiving dinners and desserts. Now that makes for a happy birthday!
It also makes up for missing all the snacking (and extra bedtime meals) I’ve missed. So really the key to losing weight is, not eating constantly all day long. Ha.

Thanks(sniff)giving

Kira — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 15:19:37 +0000

For Thanksgiving this year I have been given my first cold of this school year. I thought I’d hit it full force from the medicine cabinet but the homeopathic junk, the Cold Eeze, the Sudaphed and Afrin, but aren’t really doing much. I’m making a semi-traditional dinner and pie, but I am so stuffed up, there is a good chance I won’t be able to taste anything. At least if anything is overcooked and tastes like rubber, I won’t be bothered by it.
The one friend we are having over is a bit of a germaphobe. I called her up yesterday and told her it would be fine if she declines, but I am making the food anyhow if she would like to come. She said she would come, but that “she was going to get a flu shot first”. She told me it is more for the psychology of it than it actually preventing her from getting my cold, which I find that rather funny. For her benefit today, I will make some very visual demonstrations of my “handwashing skills” to put her at ease.
There is a small plus side to having a cold. I am actually on the getting-my-pants-to-fit-again-instead-of-buying-new-ones-diet and, not being able to taste anything makes it all less of a temptation. Plus, I have that sexy-moviestar-who-smokes-2-packs-a-day-voice that my husband loves. I read somewhere that men tend not to hear female voices all that well. Perhaps having my voice a little lower will improve his listening ability. We will see when I see what he brought back from the grocery store.

Not Xmas Yet

Kira — Wed, 22 Nov 2006 17:51:04 +0000

It seems not long ago, there was an unwritten rule that Christmas stuff was not shown on T.V. or displayed in stores until after Thanksgiving. That seemed reasonable. These days, Father Christmas is even more about the Cha-Cha-Ching of the cash register than a babe in a manger, so that bit of logic is out — I started seeing the Xmas commercials and stuff in stores right after Halloween ended. My fantasy is that the brilliant marketing executives who came up with that idea have a herd of children that nag them them the whole two months before Christmas with questions of “how soon until Christmas is here”. Since I’m getting nagged too.
I would love to write about how horribly material the season is like the good liberal I am, but I would just be a big hypocrit. The fact is, that I am going to be out shopping and buying too much stuff for everyone like everyone else, to my own dismay. I write it up to a seasonal mass hysteria. The rest of the year I will return to my frugal, practical self.
This year I think my kid has everything he could really want. Actually, I am really going to keep my gift giving to him to a minimum. There’s a thing or two I think he would like, but I am a little dry on ideas this year. And we are definitely going to have to move stuff out to replace the stuff coming in because there is really no room in our teeny rowhouse.
And, there is no guaranteeing that he is going to like the stuff we give him. I’m pretty good at picking out what he likes, but he really gets bored with most stuff eventually. Surprisingly, too, the latest big hit is this little plastic superman who showed up in his halloween candy. His face came off in the wash but he doesn’t seem to care.

The little plastic superman is preferred over a lot of the stuff he got for his birthday. Superman likes “watch” my son do a lot of activities and tends to “follow” him around. Superman gets a time-out, thought, when he trys to “fly” as I really don’t like projectiles going near my eyes. Also well loved, are a pile of, get this, plastic rocks. Plastic rocks that came with his Playmobil truck set. His 3 year old girlfriend likes them too. And occasionally they fight over piles of plastic rocks. They’re a bitch to pick up, though.
Another thing that is very popular - the blue clear plastic shoebox that my son likes to wear on his head to pretend he’s a spaceman. So maybe I should just go to the tupperware section of Target this year. And, perhaps put a few coins in those candy and toy machines at the grocery store. Who knows, I might find a hit.

Thrifty

Kira — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 05:01:54 +0000

This past weekend I went thrift storing. It’s something I love to do and have been doing for 20 years — before it was trendy; before Antiques Roadshow; and before a zillion skinny little hipsters decided wearing 70’s print retro tees were cool.
I get no better thrill than getting a big bag full of clothes for my son, including some major labels, for under $10 bucks. It’s cheaper than consignment and considering how much kids get stains on their clothes, I don’t see how buying new clothes for kids is practical (especially when that preschool “washable” tempera paint really isn’t washable).
There are a couple of bad things to thrift storing, though. 1)That old person smell in some of the clothes doesn’t always wash out completely. 2) The dressing rooms, if they have one, are sometimes makeship rooms with no doors, so that odd, older man can at any moment start a conversation with you while you are changing your clothes. Nothing like some old coot cracking jokes at you while you are standing there in your bra. 3)Some of the best thrift stores are not in the safest neighborhoods. 4)It’s highly likely you will see the very cheap, new with tags Gymboree sweater you wanted in someone else’s cart.
These days I do less shopping for myself, and more for my son. When I was 17, the pickings were excellent for vintage clothes, and I wore nothing but. The brighter and goofier the better… I still have a few 60’s psychedelic mini dresses stuck back in my closet, but I doubt they still fit.
I even used to dumpster dive for clothes (What is dumpster diving, you ask? It’s pretty self explanatory… there’s a dumpster, you dive into it and get stuff). Most of the time it wasn’t clothes. However, I did manage to completely furnish my apartment in the early 90’s from dumpsters, alleys, and thrift stores. I was lucky — my freshman year in college I lived in a high rise (well, living in an ugly high rise wasn’t the lucky part, the lucky part was that we lived on the 8th floor, right below a dumpster). My roomie and I would get up each morning, open the window, and look down to check out what the dumpster gods had brought us that day, like Christmas morning. It was a pretty fruitful dumpster.
Part of the thrill of this kind of thing is definitely the hunt. Or perhaps I should say, the gather. Lacking many nuts and berries in Baltimore city, I suppose it’s the contemporary version of hunter-gathering. Of course now, my funny polyester dress days are long gone. I am much less comfortable in polyester gaberdine (or at least the itch didn’t bother me as much). Besides the vintage pickings being poorer, I have given into jeans and boring looking, comfy loungewear. But it’s sometimes thrift-store, comfy loungewear.

Natural Laxative

Kira — Thu, 16 Nov 2006 14:52:13 +0000

It’s funny how having the water turned off in your neighborhood makes you suddenly want to do dishes, laundry, and especially use the toilet. Next time I get constipated I’ll ask the city to turn off my water for inspiration.

Stroller Girls

Kira — Wed, 15 Nov 2006 01:26:46 +0000

Recently we’ve been going to a new playground at the local elementary school. It’s brand spanking new and pretty nice, and just a few blocks away. But it does have it’s drawbacks. Some are the type you’d want your kids to play with and some are the kind you wouldn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not to say that there is inherently anything wrong with the Hampden neighborhood kids that my son might play with… at this young age they aren’t all that different. It’s some of the parents.
There’s been so much gentrification in the our neighborhood that frequently you will see on the playground the progressive, semi-hippie, or upwardly mobile yuppie types parents and their kids. Like the gentrification or not, the kids and their parents are generally pretty nice. And you will see those born and bred in Hamdpen that are genuinely good parents, and their kids. And THEN you see what we call the Hampden “Stroller Girls”.
The typical stroller girl gets pregnant at a very early age, because all of her friends are doing it. 14 isn’t too young. She likes to walk down “The Avenue” (36th Street, the main drag) pushing her stroller showing as much skin the weather will allow, with the lowest cut short-shorts (or tight jeans with something written on the butt), bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other (I think the Stroller Girl thinks it looks sexy). She likes to hang out on the corner to flirt with the guys or show off her new baby. The typical “Stroller Girl” never talks to her child, she always hollers as if the child is deaf or 40 feet away. They carry a very hard look on their faces that makes them look prematurely old.
So…
This past weekend we went to the playground at the elementary. There were just a few kids and parents there. Two kids on the playground, I couldn’t figure out who they belonged to. The one boy who looked to be 5 and didn’t hardly a thing like the other who looked barely 3. The two boys hardly acknowledged each other, playing independently. I asked the other parents on the playground if the kids were theirs, and they said no. I asked the 3-year-old where his mom was and I couldn’t get an answer that I could understand, it was too garbled. The 5-year-old ignored me.
Finally the playground had emptied out and it was only my son on the playground and these two kids and NO parents. I looked across the street to see if there was a parent sitting on their front porch watching them from a distance but I didn’t see anyone. I was beginning to think I was going to have to call the police. Finally their mother pushes her stroller up to the playground. The 3-year-old ran up to her saying “Mommy Mommy” and the 6 year old kept playing. She looked in a bad mood and yelled at the 6-year-old for, of all things, walking up the slide. She had a infant girl in her stroller. She couldn’t have been much more than 20, with three kids.
Soon she was joined by her friend and her little girl. The friend had the letters “Be Be” across the butt of her tight jeans. Her daughter, who looked to be 8, was dressed a little like a Bratz doll, and her bra strap hung down her shoulder from under her tank shirt.
I sat on the bench in awe of this woman leaving her very young kids unattended. Perhaps she was watching them from a stoop somewhere I didn’t see, but I doubt it. I was tempted to open my big mouth and give her a tongue-lashing but for once I kept my foot out of my mouth. Which was totally smart. These women scare me. They are tough girls and don’t like outsiders telling them what to do.
I know some nice kids that will go to this school, but I I have no doubts that THIS mom and the other “Stroller Girls” will send children there. And that is reason #1, #2 and perhaps reason #3 my child will not be going to school here, at our zoned elementary.

The Best Of Times?

Kira — Thu, 09 Nov 2006 05:32:40 +0000

My husband says of my son’s age, “These are the good years”. I wouldn’t know from personal experience, but he does… he’s already ~~gone through~~ survived raising three teenage boys.
And boy can I tell you, the teenage years for boys aren’t particularly pretty. At least based on what I heard from him. I’ve heard enough from him to shake in my shoes about it. I wasn’t an angel or anything, but I wasn’t that bad relatively speaking… I did nothing that involved heavy drugs, arrests or involuntary commitment to inpatient mental health facilities, or the trashing of houses. And, I bathed a lot. I hear some teenage boys can slack on that a bit.
I think things have gotten worse. I’ve seen the movie Kids and I read things like this and feel the panic come on prematurely.
(I love the part that that article where it says alcohol may have been involved. Ya think?)
So I may bitch about the extremely late potty training. Or the sitting on my head or wiping of boogers on my clothes or whatever it is, but 4 is pretty cool. It’s a lot better than 2 and it’s bound to be better than 14.
Except for one thing — I hear teenagers sleep in a lot. I can’t wait for that!

Not Exactly The New York Times, But Hey

Kira — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 04:24:57 +0000

Today I got a check in the mail… for 25 bucks. Now 25 bucks really isn’t that much, but it means something.
I got “published”.
Okay, not really published, but I sent some savings tips to a local monthy kids magazine and they chose to publish them. So that kinda counts, right?
(I think I need to keep that day job, still).

Remind Me Not To Say Cheese

Kira — Sat, 04 Nov 2006 04:38:46 +0000

You know, I really don’t like most photos of myself. It’s not just that I’m getting a little older, a little bigger, and a little more unfashionable with time.
It’s the stupid faces I frequently make.

I’m always blinking, squinting, or my mouth is agape, or making a stupid expression. Even moreso, after one measly drink.
Somehow Emma and I thought it would be a good idea to make kissy lips when this photo was taken at the most recent Baltimore Weblogger’s Happy Hour. What was I thinking?
I even told the person who took it not to put it on his blog. And with much prodding from Emma changed my mind. So there it is.

Anyhow, I had a good time… my thanks to our hosts, Jennetic, and Malnurtured Snay, even though he took that bad photo of me.

The Upside of Having A Kid With A Food Allergy, If There Is One

Kira — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 03:37:37 +0000

…is that I get to ~~weed through~~ eat all of the Halloween candy that my son is allergic to.
Or, maybe that is a downside. Not sure… jeans may not fit this week. Let me think about it…
…
Nope, candy wins. Still an upside.

Sign Of The Times

Kira — Tue, 31 Oct 2006 01:40:21 +0000

This past weekend we went to the Ramshead Tavern again and saw the Roches. It was an amazing, fabulous show. After the show I started thinking about the difference in going out to see this show, as opposed to when I first started to see shows in the mid to late 80s.

1980’s — Tickets - $15 bucks max
2000’s — Tickets - $35 bucks ouch
1980’s — Go out at 10
2000’s — Go to the 7 o’clock early show
1980’s — Stand, smooshed up against a bunch of sweaty people
2000’s — Sit, at a reserved table and be served food
1980’s — Lots of dyed hair
2000’s — Lots of gray hair, and chrome-dome baldies
1980’s — Smoky room
2000’s — Smoking not allowed
1980’s — Try to get someone to serve my underage-self beer
2000’s — Skip the drinks, head right for the creme brulee cheesecake, get a stomach ache
1980’s — Get mad at the skinhead girl who took my spot by the stage and threatened to beat me up
2000’s — Get mad at the waiter who is taking forever to bring me my check
1980’s — Come home smelling from all the cigarettes and everyone else’s sweat soaked into my shirt
2000’s — Come home smelling almost as good as when I left
1980’s — Home by when?
2000’s — Home by 10
1980’s — Lots of dancing, moshing, or whatever you call it
2000’s — Signs on the wall say dancing not allowed (fire hazard)

Not that I haven’t seen a few shows in the 2000’s that haven’t included smoky rooms, getting smooshed, and dancing. It’s just nice occasionally to have a grown-up kind of thing to see. Except for the not dancing thing, that is just plain wrong. Then again, some of those chrome-dome baldies dancing, could be hazardous to one’s visual health.

The Road To Bridezilla Is Paved With Good Intentions

Kira — Mon, 30 Oct 2006 04:32:28 +0000

When a couple is planning to have a child they often expect to spend money on some major things. Doctors appointments. Classes and othe activities. Clothes. Bikes. Braces. Perhaps, a car for a lucky teenager.
No where in my wildest dreams, however, did I think that parents would spend so much on birthday parties every year. When I was a kid, we were happy with a couple of slices of pizza at a pool party. Not these kids today. Moon Bounces! Clowns! Petting Zoos! A simple home party isn’t enough anymore.
Today I was at a nice home party for a 4-year-old. The mother was a preschool teacher, and had some crafty activities for the kids that the kids all seemed to like. It was a fairly small party which was pleasantly more intimate (for my guy, who can be quite shy, a smaller party is a big plus.) A woman who attended the party with her daughter was telling us about some of the kid parties she has been attending. She said with most parties - “expect to spend a minimum of $400″. She recently attended a party for a girl (elementary age) where 30 kids had attended and the parents had spent $1200 on the whole party. And she said, “…and this child is by no means spoiled!”.
Have we reached a point where the simple party with just a few kids is not good enough? Have our values changed so much as a society in America, that the old standards that I grew up with of what a birthday party should be, are null and void?
I wonder if those parents know what they are setting themselves up for. That girl with the $1200 birthday party is probably going to have some very grand expectations of what her wedding will be like. Ouch for them in the pocketbook.

To My Big 4-Year-Old

Kira — Tue, 24 Oct 2006 04:09:41 +0000

Although you will never read this, I thought I’d write a little tribute to you on your turning 4.

Wow, you are a big 4 year old! And you certainly are bigger, but big is all relative I suppose… you are pretty small for your age but I’m not complaining. I’m happy you aren’t much more than 30 pounds so I can still carry you around easily. You keep me warm on cold days. It’s so funny how you insist how big you are, sometimes even bigger than me.
You started out truly big, much bigger than any of your half-brothers ever were, at 8 pounds 10 ounces. You went from 85th percentile to 10th in 4 years! Little though you may be, you are mighty, a big tough macho guy on the inside.
You are all ready to go to work with daddy to paint houses. You are all ready to go to work being a builder. You are all ready to marry your 5 year old friend and “have a builder family”. I don’t know how she feels about that yet. And you wanted to be a big real construction worker for Halloween, not a “pretend” one like Bob the Builder.
From before you could walk, you have been obsessed with cars and trucks, and that hasn’t changed much, although your focus has refined itself a bit. It’s all about construction and construction trucks, now. Road paving is like… the coolest thing to you, but I’m a female and I can only understand why just slightly. I am happy to say your new obsession with dinosaurs is a bit refreshing. I find a lot of the superhero interest a bit disturbing. Just don’t try to jump off any buildings in an attempt to fly anytime soon, or take steroids when you get to high school.
You are kind of in your own world and difficult to reach sometimes. I guess that makes you just like your mother and your father, we were both like that. Somehow though, you seem to hear very clearly when I mention chocolate mousse. Funny how that works.
You are getting bolder than you used to, and your shyness is waning. You will actually swing on a swing now (instead of wanting to just hang there!) I see that as a very healthy improvement.
You are so very well behaved at school. The teachers think you are the easiest thing. So quiet, one teacher says (if they only knew the other side of you!) You were so well behaved at the restaurant at your birthday dinner, eating you miso soup and rice and trying to use the chopsticks like a grownup, the waitress complimented you. I wish I could bring her home, maybe you would eat like a gentleman at home more often.
You still are a mama’s boy and I love that. I love how you insist on holding my hand all the time. I love how you always want me to get in your little toddler bed with you, to talk with you every night. And I do it because you are so cute, even though I really, really, really don’t fit.
I never worry about you running away in crowds. You are a million times less destructive to our home’s personal property than you were a year ago, and a zillion times less destructive than 2 years ago. Our furniture, books, cds, and electronic items thank you wholeheartedly.
You would be almost perfect if you would just make up your mind that the potty is the place to poop. But every diamond has their flaw I suppose. Just figure it out before you go to college, okay?
I worry about you sometimes. Sometimes with reason, sometimes without, but that is my job. So far you are pretty darn good kid — in spite of me, or because of me, who knows. I am very proud of you.
I think I will keep you.

Birthday Party Time

Kira — Sun, 22 Oct 2006 20:44:29 +0000

Today T turned into a big 4 year old (I’ll get all gushy and sappy about that on a future post). The whole week was spent visiting with relatives and getting ready for his birthday party with 8 other little “screaming mimis” at a local kid’s gym, Rebounders (I say “Screaming mimis”, and sure some of them do scream a bit, but really they are all very nice kids).
At first I was a little hesitant to have a party of that size in a place that I paid for, and make such a big deal. After all, he is just 4! Could I be setting myself up to out-do last year’s party, every year? By the time he is 18, will I feel pressured to top myself by hiring the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and fireworks?
Most of the books I read say that you should have 1 child per every year of life, so a 4 year old should have 4 kids, a 5 year old should have 5, etc. I think it’s pretty sound advice, but I happily ignored it.
The fact was, though, that there was NO WAY I could have more than 2 kids in our little tiny rowhouse. And being that some of the boys are… well, how can I say this politely… a bit busy and active? I didn’t want to inflict the boys’ “busyness” on even a good friend, who offered her house, even though she would likely have forgiven me for the havoc. So I went whole hog and invited a lot of his friends.
As it turned out, Rebounders is a great place for a party. All the kids loved it and they burned off a lot of steam jumping on trampolines and tumbling around. And the greatest thing about having a party not at your house? The cleanup is a lot easier (same with summer birthdays outside). Sure, we cleaned up everything ourselves except the cupcake crumbs that landed on the floor, but that place was in a lot better condition than our house would have been. The mess of 9 kids under 5 was contained in an area that required little cleanup.
I have to say, my son has made out like a bandit. He has more presents than he knows what to do with. I think I will be stashing a few a way for a while, because he is simply overwhelmed (removing them from their boxes and assembling them though — my god, that is a job in itself! Everything is so wired down that it takes forever to get it out of the packaging).
And, because of all the October birthdays shared with other kids, he had a little party at school (not my idea). Then the next day, he had his party with his friends at Rebounders. THEN tonight, he will have a birthday dinner out with his family. That’s like, 3 days of party party party. By the time he is 18 let’s hope it’s the 1 day of birthday instead of the 8 days of Hannukah.

Why I’m Blogging at 12:26 A.M.

Kira — Wed, 18 Oct 2006 04:27:44 +0000

There is nothing to me more beautiful than a sleeping child. Specifically, my child. He is whine-free, angelic looking, content.
Or, for that matter, a sleeping husband. My husband.
The trouble is, I don’t particularly like being alone. On the other hand, I crave being alone. Conflict, right? But I have found a solution — having them home and ASLEEP, where I know exactly where they are.
Late at night, they are peaceful and not bugging me. I can get everything I need to get done (like balance the checkbook); the house is quiet, and no one is interrupting me, not even the phone. And I can look in on them (lovingly), whenever I want.
No wonder I have insomnia.

Biological Urges

Kira — Tue, 17 Oct 2006 13:52:17 +0000

I’m not the kind of person who is that into babies. Like other women, I think they are cute and all — but I am not obsessed with them and constantly wanting to make more. I’m more of a kid person, I like having someone I can talk to, rather than oogle at and make goo-goo noises at.
Some women are so into babies, they have to go to unusual measures to satisfy the urge. I remember several years ago I was at Goodwill digging through the baby bin of baby clothes next to a woman who was looking for preemie clothes for her baby. I felt a little bad for her having a preemie, until I realized she was actually looking for preemie clothes for her baby DOLL. Something probably not unlike this:

Creeply realistic, huh?!!
A few of my friends are obsessed with having more babies, despite the fact that they are clearly in over their heads with the ones they have (by my estimation). My friend Emma writes it off to a biological urge. She says that although intellectually she knows she can’t handle having more than the two she has, still has these urges to make more because, she says, “they are so damn cute”. Thankfully, she has me to remind her that she will have a complete breakdown if she has any more, and plus I have enough trouble chasing down the two that she has already (just kidding, Emma).
I was never as bad off as Emma. Although I wanted one or two kids, I never was obsessed with having them, even as a child. I was a little girl I wasn’t that into baby dolls, I much preferred my stuffed animals and barbies. At the park the other day, I did see a little girl lifting up her shirt and “nursing” her stuffed animal and I thought, well that one will be a good little breeder when she grows up.
But something happened recently. I’ve been having thoughts. Odd thoughts. Baby thoughts! I think it is because one of my friends just had one and sent me pictures of the baby from Germany and they were very sweet pictures. Or maybe it is because next month I will be 36 and perhaps my eggs are sending me a little message like, we are getting a little old and past due here, you better do something with us while you can.
I know that I am not up to having another one. I could handle childbirth again. But several years deprived of sleep? Or the horrible postpartum depression? I feel like I am just starting to get a life of “my own” back. While some moms don’t miss the solitude and are happy with a houseful of cheerful chirping voices, that person is not me. I would be a worse mother to my son, overwhelmed by it all.
Still my husband would probably love to have more. Personally I think he is crazy. He has the 4 already, I think he would keep going until he is 90. He likes making kids. I have no idea where we’d put them or how we could afford them. And of course he is 51, at some point he might like to retire!
I do have another really bad ulterior motif for wanting another one. Specifically, a girl. We always get into a debate about whether having girls or boys is easier. Everyone has their opinion on this, but I suspect girls are, and he thinks boys are. I think, what does he know, he has all boys and has never raised a girl. Having a little girl might help settle that debate!
…Of course, that is a terrible reason to have a kid. But, I so like being right! I guess I will never have that one settled. I think my husband only makes boys, anyhow.

In Need Of Pommes Frites

Kira — Fri, 13 Oct 2006 04:24:43 +0000

Mr. Guy Laroche,
This…

… is not high French fashion. This is Auschwitz.
You must not be paying your models enough because, damn, she sure looks like she is starving. Take her off the runway and take her to a restaurant. Pronto. Or a good mental health professional. Because, we wouldn’t want our kids to think the Aushwitz look is fashionable, would we?
Oh wait, you died in 1989. Now isn’t this falling on deaf ears.

Sincerely,
Cranky Mommy

Manufacturing Chaos

Kira — Thu, 12 Oct 2006 13:34:29 +0000

The commencement of preschool has been very beneficial… never mind my son, who likes school… to ME. My house is cleaner. I am more sane. I’m caught up on my paperwork. All is well.
Trouble is, that this woman needs something to be wound up over something, in the lack of anything real to get freaked out about.
For example: this week. Monday I went to pick up my son from preschool a little before 3. I was running late but I knew I could make it there just in time to get him. Halfway down Northern Parkway, more than a mile from school waiting for the light to change, my car DIES. It stalled, the oil light and battery light went on. And I was stranded, so I thought, in the middle lane of Northern Parkway with my hazards on and no cell phone (absolutely no use if it is not charged and left at home) FREAKING OUT like an idiot trying to figure out what to do. Not my best moment.
Thankfully someone pulled over and lent me their cell, and my friend went and picked up my son at school. And strangely, my car started up and was fine just a few minutes later. And it’s fine. I got to my son’s school before my friend did. I had a panic attack over nothing.
And THEN, yesterday, at lunchtime, my fridge was making noises. I opened both the freezer side and the refrigerator side and neither felt particularly cold and I couldn’t get it to kick on. I freaked out once again, calling a repairman and ran much of my perishables to my neighbors. By the time I got back, my fridge was PERFECTLY FINE. Running just great. Went and got my food, cancelled the repairperson who must have thought I was the biggest fool he’d ever met. At least my neighbor already knows I’m nuts so I didn’t shock her.
Which goes to prove that the person who is used to freaking out over life’s little headaches, presented with a chaos-free vaccuum — will just have to fabricate the chaos herself. When life’s a little too smooth, gotta invent some bumps, right?

If You Were Wondering What I Did This Past Weekend

Kira — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 03:49:48 +0000

Go over here for an enchanting tale (mostly accurate).

A Sign My Husband Has Brainwashed Our Son This Football Season

Kira — Sun, 08 Oct 2006 01:05:46 +0000

While watching Blue’s Clues:
T: Joe likes to play Blue’s Clues, just like Steve.
But Steve McNair is one of the guys who plays for the Baltimore Ravens. Do you know who Steve McNair is?

Awww… My Lil’ Tree Hugger

Kira — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 22:08:50 +0000

Driving in the car, with my kiddo in the back seat:

T: Mommy, why are we alive?

Me: Uhm, I don’t know (I’m thinking: go ask your father, he’s the religious one! I’m nearly an atheist). Why do you think we are alive?

T: I think we are alive because we love the earth.

Me: Sweetie, I think that is a very good answer.

And I do. I don’t know where he came up with it — if it was from the crunchy-granola Presbyterian preschool, or T.V., or something out of his head. But it’s as good as any answer I could have given. Or even his father (psst… don’t tell his dad that).
Good job, my little tree-hugger.

Thoughts On Reading the Bag of Cookies My Husband Bought Yesterday

Kira — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 02:50:57 +0000

The side of bag says:

Seville Triple Chocolate

The Art Of The Cookie™
by Pepperidge Farm

Begin with a baker’s soul. Seek the finest ingredients. Explore nature’s infinite variety of flavors and textures - sweet, crunchy, rich… oh and chocolate. Entertain inspirations. Embrace decadent cravings. Reward yourself. Open… Taste… Delight.

Thank you for letting us share our creations with you. Gratification guaranteed.
Tell us what you think of our baking. Call us toll free at 1- 888 -737 -7374.

Cookie Prose?! Who knew!

How about a little rewrite:
Begin with a ~~baker’s soul~~ factory filled with minimum wage workers. Seek the ~~finest ingredients~~ hydrogenated soybean and/or cottonseed oil and corn syrup. Explore ~~nature’s infinite variety of flavors and textures - sweet, crunchy, rich… oh and chocolate~~ the taste of a souped-up Oreo cookie but only slightly better. ~~Entertain inspirations~~ Be inspired to buy a cookie that came from a real bakery. ~~Embrace decadent cravings~~ These cookies won’t satisfy you, go right for the Ben and Jerry’s. Reward yourself with something that tastes better than these cookies. ~~Open… Taste… Delight~~. Don’t bother, spend the 18% of your day’s saturated fat for 3 cookies on something tastier.

Thank you for letting us ~~share our creations with you~~(Share? Jesus H. This is a business here) fatten you up while giving us your money. Gratification guaranteed.
Tell us what you think of our baking. Call us toll free at 1- 888 -737 -7374. Nah, you’ll just send me coupons for more junky cookies. I won’t bother calling to express myself, I have a blog for that.

See, my version was much more entertaining. Really though, they need to hire me. I can be a cookie ~~pusher~~ writer. Really. I have a gushy soul, and I can pretend they taste amazing. Really!

Retracting Some Of My Smugness

Kira — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 00:02:25 +0000

I have a confession to make. I was one of those Boob Nazis.
I never went out and gave formula feeders a hard time, that would just be mean and conceited. But in my head, I was one. When my son was little and I saw other moms giving their baby formula and think, why isn’t he breastfed? Everywhere I read studies that confirmed what I already thought — exclusively breastfed kids were better off.
Breastfed children are healthier, and even smarter, I read, mostly while I was pregnant. Smarter “by even 10 points of IQ”, a woman told me at a La Leche League meeting. I didn’t buy it lock, stock and barrel ( I know too many brilliant formula-fed babies), but I’d read a lot of stuff that said it was worth it, so I was happy to do it.
Semi-hippie that I am (not really, but I do have a slightly crunchy side), I nursed my son over a year and a half. I was over it much earlier than my son (the non-hippie side lurching it’s head) but I stuck with it until he lost interest. Despite the difficulty, discomfort, embarrassment of wet shirts, and the biting, I stuck with it (that, and my son wouldn’t take a bottle). And, I really have no regrets on that. Not even after I read this article today which says that breastfed kids are no more intelligent than formula fed kids.

I don’t see any of the “dark forces” of the formula companies paying for this one, it seems pretty legit. To quote:

“A rough generalization is that in studies that factor in the mother’s IQ there isn’t much difference between breast-fed and non-breast-fed babies,” Der said in an interview.

“But if you don’t count the mother’s IQ that tends to double breast feeding’s apparent effect and is likely to overestimate a children’s IQ.”

The researchers also looked at siblings who had been breast-fed and bottle-fed.

“The ones that were breast-fed should have been more intelligent, but there was no significant difference,” according to Der.

That’s not to say breastfeeding isn’t still good thing. They are still, on average, healthier — and breastfeeding prevents infections, SIDS, diabetes, and obesity, amongst many other things, and there have been plenty of studies to back that up…
It just doesn’t make them smarter.
So, I correct my 50% of my smugness.* My apologies. And now you moms who are/were formula feeders can correct 50% of your breastfeeding friends’ smugness, too. We deserve it.

*This smugness reduction is subject to change, based on the next study I read proving the opposite. Also I have no doubt that in 20 years we will read studies that say: red meat, chocolate, fat, and salt are all okay for you. (Really, you say, someone is saying that now? I give up!)

Anyone Want A Little Tickle?

Kira — Mon, 02 Oct 2006 00:56:30 +0000

I can’t stop staring at this woman. She freaks me out.

I mean, who looks like that?
In my opinion, this is what we as humans do when have too much spare time on our hands… grow our nails 33 inches long to be in the Guinness Book of World Records. And, we get our hair to look like our nails. It’s just — freak -ay.
I read something that says she can pretty much do whatever anyone else can. I would challenge her, however, to change a poopy diaper. Now that — would be entertaining!

Welcoming Myself To The 21st Century

Kira — Sun, 01 Oct 2006 03:54:55 +0000

I did it.
I am now officially a cell-phone owner, and the (second-to-) last American mom to have one. It’s so strange, I feel so — gadget-y. Before you know it, I will be out buying an ipod….
Nah. Not yet.
Anyhow, I’m in the 21st century just barely. It’s a cheap phone with a cheap pay-as-you-go, 18-cents-a-minute plan from Virgin Mobile. All I have to do is top it off with $20 bucks every 3 months (and I can get a few $20 top-offs for $15 on sale). For a cell phone that I intend to use only for emergencies for T’s preschool to contact me, if I am working with my husband. And, for the occasional Honey, I’ll be home late, do we need a loaf of bread and the like.
Of course, everyone tells me that’s how it starts, and in no time, I will be up to a $70-a-month plan. It’s like friggin’ CRACK.
It’s really strange how if you don’t ever have these things, you really don’t care, or know what you are missing. A year or so ago, we didn’t have caller ID and I could have cared less. Now, I have to have it. And, I can remember how many years I lived in Baltimore in the 1990s without air conditioning, and didn’t think twice about that. Now, I can’t think of a summer without it! It’s amazing how we left-wing types strive to do without, and in the end we are sometimes as materialistic as anybody.
Yep, it’s inevitable, that $70-a-month plan.
*sigh*

This Is Your Brain On Kids

Kira — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 03:24:56 +0000

Spending time with little ones all day and all their mind-numbing books and television can makes you waste your brain activity in a major way.
For example — I this evening I was reading a Curious George book to my son, Curious George Takes A Train, and thinking about the Man In The Yellow Hat — how he really gets on my nerves.
In every book, he is not keeping his eye on the damn monkey, and the monkey gets into mischief. In this book, Curious George climbs up on the schedule board and rearranges it. In another book, he ruins everyone’s newspaper delivery. As I am reading it, all I can think is shame on Mr. Yellow Hat, once again, he is a negligent pet owner! Someone should take that monkey away from him!
I guess we wouldn’t have much to read about, if the Man in The Yellow Hat was on top of things, but it still bugs me.
Or, how Cookie Monster is a horrible role model. But truly — he is. I can’t tell you how many kids I know have imitated his messy cookie-eating habit, spewing cookie crumbs all over the floor saying “Yum yum uhm uhm uhm”.
Another bad kids role model - Dora. Okay, she’s not really that bad, but she has the most annoying voice. And every little toddler girl in America, when they succeed at something, goes through a phase where they say triumphantly in their little squeaky voices, “I did it!” just like Dora. And I’m sorry to you Elmo fans, but Elmo has a really annoying voice too. Who wants their kid to talk like that?
Does my brain really need to ponder this stuff? Should I be debating with another mom whether “Maria” on Sesame Street is really the mother of “Gabby” on Sesame Street (she isn’t)? Whether “Joe” replaced “Steve” on Blue’s Clues was because “Steve” died of a heroin overdose ( false rumor)?
Or — should I be picking up that Descartes and Plato book in an effort to keep my brain cells from committting suicide?

Something Titillating This Way Comes

Kira — Tue, 26 Sep 2006 02:39:50 +0000

Once a month our community association has a meeting in a neighborhood church. Most of what is discussed at the meeting is pretty cut and dry, and sometimes boring — school and park issues, parking complaints, fundraisers, and the like.
This meeting was the usual, quite uneventful — until the end. A new business owner stepped up to make a presentation about the new business she is opening in the neighborhood. An adult business. An adult toy business, geared for women, if you get my meaning.
I really don’t have concerns about the business. Her presentation was professional. There is no storefront, it will be upscale and discreet.
I figure, whatever floats your boat. I’m a very vanilla person with enough imagination that I’ve never had need of an adult female toy shop or attend one of these ladies “passion parties” (adult toys instead of tupperware) that I’ve heard about (although to be honest, I’ve never been invited to one… maybe I don’t know the right people?).
I guess we all have hobbies. Some people collect books, and some people collect ashtrays, and some people collect… vibrators with little bunnies on them. To each their own.
I will say, though, I did love one thing… I could almost hear the grey-haired ladies, old Hampdenites and churchfolk, sitting in their pews staring at the floor and blushing under their glasses as the young woman gave her description, in mostly PG rated terms, of the female-oriented adult toy business and and what she plans to offer.
Surprisingly, there were few questions for the usually noisy group. She sure knew how to quiet a room.

Beware The Morning Beast

Kira — Sat, 23 Sep 2006 04:44:04 +0000

I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. I’m the kind of person who you want to avoid for the first hour or so that I am awake. My husband has found a way to handle me in the morning — like a lion tamer, with a combination of gentle coaxing and a chair and a whip.
Thankfully, my son is catching on. Now, when he wakes up before me as he usually does, he bypasses my bedroom entirely and heads straight downstairs for dad to make his cereal in the morning.
I’d say, he’s a pretty smart kid.

A Familiar Face

Kira — Wed, 20 Sep 2006 23:30:43 +0000

Recently on my trips to the grocery store around Hampden, and a while driving T to school, I’ve seen this “new” homeless guy. By new, I mean perhaps the last month or so. In most ways he looked to me like a “stereotypical” homeless guy. He has his lit ciggarette in hand, a cardboard (homeless, please help) sign to beg with, an overbaked-in-the-sun look, a suspiciously skinny physique and long, unkempt shaggy hair. Except, the shaggy hair has a bit dyed on the tips and had grown out.
Something about this homeless guy looked just a bit familiar, but I wasn’t sure exactly.
He was kind of a small guy, 40-something, and looked a little like an acquaintance I used to talk to — an old rock-and-roll guy and who worked several places on “the avenue” in Hampden and used to bake for some local eateries. He was, to my knowledge, a recovered heroin addict who had been perfectly fine for a number of years.
Driving on Northern Parkway the other day, I once again saw the homeless man, standing in the small median of the busy intersection, holding up his cardboard sign. I don’t think he saw me staring at him while I waited at the light. I found it hard to believe that this could possibly, maybe, be the guy I’d seen and talked to many times.
The guy I knew had distinctively Keith Richards-looking hair and a certain sense of style. This guy, had none of that. I wasn’t sure it was him, but I thought I would ask around to see if anyone knew whatever happened to the rock-and-roll guy.
As it turns out, they are one and the same. The transformation is pretty shocking. Perhaps not so shocking if I had known him better, but I really don’t know what happened, why he (most likely) fell off the wagon. He looks pretty rough. I have to wonder if people like this are long for this world.
It makes me think of my stepson who I have not seen in nearly two years. I’m not sure what I will see, next time I see him. Seeing the transformation gradually with people as ill as this, sometimes dulls a little of the shock. I wonder if the next time I will see my stepson I will be equally as shocked. And, I hope as I drive on Northern Parkway I never see another vaguely familiar face.

I’m Not Made For T.V.

Kira — Mon, 18 Sep 2006 16:18:17 +0000

I got this email today, although I am totally not up for this. But, perhaps some moms out there who blog, need a little New York vacation?

SEEKING: Moms Who Blog for new show on Fox

Are you a mom under age 45 and at your wits end? Do you blog about it?
Be a guest on Fox TV’s The Dr. Keith Ablow Show?

The Dr. Keith Ablow Show launched Sept. 11th. It is hosted by the amazing Psychiatrist
and New York Times Best Selling Author, Keith Ablow. He has appeared on Oprah, Larry
King, Good Morning America and The Tyra Banks Show.

If you are chosen for a show, we pay all expenses (transportation to & from NYC , hotel stay, food, etc.) for you & your family.

If interested contact me ASAP. When sending an e-mailinclude a photo of you and your family, a blog entry where you are venting about paticular issues, concerns dealing with motherhood or your marriage (or lack of), your age, age of kids, city, state and contact phone #(s).

Best of luck!

–
Felicia Scarangello
The Dr. Keith Ablow Show
1325 Ave of the Americas, 30th fl.
New York, NY 10019
212-506-4298 (direct)
1-888-372-2569 x4298
212-506-4370 (fax)
felicia.scarangello@drkeithtv.com
Show website: http://www.drkeithtv.com

I Flunked Potty Training 101

Kira — Sun, 17 Sep 2006 21:20:51 +0000

Just a little bit of advice to you moms on what NOT to do… For those of you who are potty training their kids, from a mom who failing miserably with potty training her child.
If you say to your child:

Don’t poop in your underpants!!!

What your child will hear is:

Don’t poop. At all. Ever.

And, after 5 days you will be off to the drug store to buy an enema.
*sigh*

Anniversary

Kira — Thu, 14 Sep 2006 00:16:31 +0000

Yesterday was our anniversary. 8 years. 8 frickin’ years! How did that happen? I feel so old.
Our wedding was a memorable date, even besides the getting married part:

My grandmother and uncle spoke to each other for the first time in over 30 years at the wedding.

I dropped the ring mid ceremony.

I actually managed to get my husband (arythmic, non-dancing white guy) to partner dance, several times. For “our dance”, we both picked a purposefully arythmic My Bloody Valentine song, To Here Knows when). I think we raised a few eyebrows from the old people with that.

A bunch of my goofy friends and relatives lit lighters and waved their hands in the air when we did the father-daughter dance to the song my dad picked, John Lennon’s Imagine.

And a few people, including my usually shy husband who had too much caffeine, slam danced at my wedding.

So, yes, memorable.

8 isn’t a particularly important year, aside from one thing — I am now my husband’s “record holder” for duration of marriage, as his 3rd wife. Yeah, he’s stuck with me.
We made some nice plans for our anniversary, but won’t be celebrating until Friday (see here for why). We are going to the restaurant that catered our wedding, and for desert I ordered the world’s most evil cake that was our wedding cake.

Felt Like This Day Would Never Come

Kira — Mon, 11 Sep 2006 14:14:18 +0000

I can’t believe it, it’s the first day of the school year! The house is so quiet, it’s eerie!
There’s no one home to hang on my back like a cape, climb all over me, twirl my hair, sit on my head, and generally drive me nuts.
I’m annoyed with myself… I miss him. All summer I couldn’t wait to ~~shove him~~ send him off to school, and now I miss him. It’s a sickness, I tell ya.

Smells Expensive

Kira — Fri, 08 Sep 2006 03:30:15 +0000

This past weekend when it was raining buckets we went to the American Visionary Art Museum, located just south of the inner harbor in Federal Hill. Not all of it is great art, but it’s a great place to take a kid on a rainy day (as long as they are old enough to know not to touch the art).
Since we hadn’t been there in a while, I was suprised to see the absolutely massive amount of construction that had been started, right on the water at the harbor. I could see that the construction will eventually block most of the view of the harbor from the art museum and ruin it’s view.
I asked the guy working at the entrance desk of the museum what all the construction was, and he told me it would be townhomes and condos — and looking out the window I noticed the sign advertising the barely-started condos saying: from 1.2 million.
1.2 million I said? That’s ridiculous. Just to live at the inner harbor. You could get a large mansion somewhere else for that!
Yeah, rich people spending lots of money to live on the smelly water, he said.
And he was absolutely right. The harbor can look pretty, but on a summer day it sure does reek — from the Inner Harbor to Fells Point to trendy Canton. It’s really stinky.
Sometimes I wish we were bazillionaires. That we could afford to live some place much larger and grander. But what I do have, besides a sense of taste and a sense of aesthetics, is a sense of smell (perhaps the wealthy suffer from anosmia)? And, I’m happy to say that my house will smell better than those 1.2 million+ condos.
Perhaps though, over time, that inner harbor smell will be associated with something fabulous! We will all forget that it actually stinks and just associate the smell with high living. People will seek out that scent to make themselves feel rich. The’ll be spraying it all over the house like Fabreeze to impress the relatives, and selling air fresheners with that “special inner harbor smell”. It is, after all, the new smell of wealth.

Oh Yeah, I Have A Weblog

Kira — Tue, 05 Sep 2006 04:43:38 +0000

What, I have a weblog?
And I’m supposed to actually update it, regularly?
With actual bits and pieces of information on my life? Oh, yeah… now I remember.
Well, this blog is not dead, yet. I have a good bit going on my my life although none of it very exciting. Here’s the news:

I went to a playgroup today, and listened to one of my ‘mom’ friends tell crazy stories about her old job working at a clinic that treated sexual offenders. And heard another ‘mom’ friend retell the story of how she used to answer phones for a dominatrix which you can read here. Not your average playgroup conversation. What does that say about me and the people I hang with? I dunno.

I finished a drawing. It’s a two-headed housewife serving fruit and devil’s food cake, and in the words of my son, it’s just like Zak & Wheezie from the kids show Dragon Tales.

Spent five hours at the Baltimore city zoning board to oppose the building of 4 rental properties in my neighborhood (He lost. Yay.)

Watched people sing horribly at a karaoke night in my neighborhood, and knew to stop at one drink because NO ONE wants to hear me sing (except my son who is too little to know how horrible I sing, bless his soul).

Found out my drug-addicted stepson is homeless.

Learned that I have 14 second-cousins I didn’t know about.

I hate, I repeat hate, potty training. I don’t think there is any job I’ve ever done worse. I suck at it. If I was planning on having another kid I could only hope to do better the next time, but I’m not. I wish I could pay someone to do it. Anyone?

One week until school starts! I think first thing, I will dance around the house in my underwear, filled with joy, and after that burst of joy ponder about him constantly, and wondering what he is up to.

Cruised Out

Kira — Fri, 01 Sep 2006 21:22:42 +0000

A year ago I wrote on my old blog, after reading Tom Cruise’s criticism of Brooke Shield’s use of antidepressants for post-partem depression, that he needs to grow a uterus, have a baby, and get post partum depression before he opens his big fat scientologist mouth. So when I read this I giggle a bit.
And, doubtful it’s real or he had anything to do with it (newborn poop doesn’t look like that) but there’s one more reason to be irritated with Tom Cruise.

Good Mommy Won Today

Kira — Sat, 26 Aug 2006 00:02:59 +0000

Guess what was the special at the cafe at the pool today, for 4 bucks?
Banana and chocolate nutella crepes with whipped cream.
Guess who was a good girl today and didn’t buy them?
Me.
Guess who is still thinking about them?
*sniff*

This Is Your Brain On 8 Years of Marriage

Kira — Wed, 23 Aug 2006 12:57:31 +0000

About a month ago I asked my husband if he wanted to see Glenn Tilbrook and The Fluffers at the Ramshead Tavern in Annapolis. He told me he wasn’t interested, so I bought 4 tickets to share with my single friends who wanted to see him.
A few nights ago, I was lying in bed attempting to fall asleep when I asked my him what he wanted to do for our 8-year anniversary. Which is… on September 12. Now what was the day of that Glenn Tilbrook show? I dashed downstairs to check, and realized that I had bought tickets to be out with 3 of my single friends on our anniversary.
Boy did I feel like shit.
I am happy to say that my husband wasn’t mad (or, if he was mad, he was okay with it enough to act like it was no big deal and tell me to go ahead to the show, and we would celebrate our anniversary on the weekend).
I do still feel a little guilty about going. However since I really want to go, I’ve thought of a few things I could do (besides sexual favors) in a week of penance:

1)I hand over the remote and let him watch as much Ravens football or Elimidate as you please without whining about it.
2)All the CDs that I don’t like that you have down in the basement — play them and I won’t complain. much.
3)He can shave less and do the scraggly soap-opera-hunk thing, while I will shave MORE.
4)Eat a naughty chocolate chip muffin from Eddies of Roland Park every and you want and he won’t get nagged.
5)No toilet training duty for with our son for a week.
6)I’ll make that evil chocolate pie that he likes so much.
7)I’ll get up with T when he wakes up at 6:30 - god almighty that will be hard.
8)He can pick the restaurant when we go out for our anniversary.

Had this been our 2nd, 4th, 6th, anniversary things might have been different. But that is the thing about being married, if you are happily married — you tend to tolerate a lot of stuff you wouldn’t have, had it been the first couple of years. I guess he has accepted the fact that he is married to a really dingy person (I will say though, I got lucky. Had he done the same thing, I would have been a little more pissed than he is).

Rules Of The Playground

Kira — Sat, 19 Aug 2006 04:51:45 +0000

I’ve noticed on at least 3 weblogs recently that, well, people aren’t playing right on the playground! Someone is bullying. Someone isn’t taking turns. The parents are rude or ignoring the kids. So I thought I would write out a little list so everyone is clear on the rules.

1)Little ones: no eating woodchips. And parents who let their kids eat them will be punished to some unknown splinter-removing hell.
2)The 5 second rule for eating food dropped on the ground that you use at home, usually doesn’t apply at the park, unless you are desperate.
3)If you can’t hold your pee, and there is no place to pee for you or your kids because there is no bathroom, please choose a tree that is remote and far away so we don’t have to smell it.
4)And, hermetically seal those poopy diapers before you throw them in the trash so we don’t have to smell them either.
5)Don’t go down the slide when someone hasn’t gotten off the slide.
6)Don’t go up the slide when someone is going down the slide.
7)Kids who take other kids toys on the playground are evil. That is, unless the kids are related by blood and that just means you are stuck with them for life.
8)If your kids are tired and kicking and screaming, for godsakes take them home.
9)Don’t throw the woodchips! Or grass! Or Dirt!
10)Don’t bang sticks on most things. Especially other kids.
11)Don’t steal other kids drinks. It isn’t a community slober fest.
12)Halt those cellphones, people! It’s the glorious outdoors, with nature and birds and crap like that. And you’ll know where your kid is.
13)Forgive the parent who can’t remember the name of a parent or child you’ve met on the playground 8 times before.
14)Don’t ask what Dad does, to the lesbian couples.
15)Only throw rocks in the stream. All other rock throwing is forbidden.
16)Stay away from the strange sewer-hole things.
17)Wandering up to strange adults for crackers and snacks is gauche (even more so if you are an adult yourself)
18)Say sorry when your mother gives you the evil eye - or else.
19)The classic — take turns. Duh.
20) When your mother says “Come here” it doesn’t mean run to the opposite end of the playground while giggling hysterically.

Got any to add?

September’s A Comin’

Kira — Fri, 18 Aug 2006 00:34:43 +0000

Do you remember this commercial from a couple of years ago? It’s a Staples commercial showing parents doing back-to-school shopping joyously to the Andy Williams X-mas song It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year, while their kids shuffle along looking depressed.
I’m not exactly dancing down the aisle with joy thinking of the beginning of the school year, but I am looking forward to September. I have just enough sanity to last me the next 3 weeks. And, I think my son is bored with me and ready to go back to school.
Plus, I don’t think my house has been really clean in 3 months. Then, I will have no excuse for the mess.

If I need 3 Minutes and 4 Seconds to Get Something Done

Kira — Sun, 13 Aug 2006 00:49:32 +0000

…I sit my kid in front of the computer and have him watch this:

He’s absolutely hypnotized. (Of course, now the song is stuck in my head, and all those silly poses to go with it!)

Oh No, Football Season Again

Kira — Sat, 12 Aug 2006 02:52:05 +0000

This time of year the past few years, my husband starts getting excited about football, constantly reading and talking about the Baltimore Ravens and other teams.
You’d never know by looking at my husband that he is a football fan. He wears no purple, unlike one of my neighbors who just headed downtown to watch the exhibition game in his purple-camouflage outfit (with his purple-camouflaged family members and their bright purple, Ravens logo-ed van). He doesn’t wear a single Baltimore Ravens shirt or hat, and doesn’t buy any tickets to the games, but deep down inside, he is hardcore about it. At the moment he is upstairs watching the first Ravens exhibition game.
For me it will be long season. I make a lot of effort to act attentive when reads me little tidbits about this new player or that player, the names which I can’t remember, and when he does all his armchair coach lectures. I nod and listen as well as a person who dislikes sports in general, and American football in particular.
But I think he is making a new replacement for disinterested me.
He has started endoctrinating my son. Never mind that he’s under 4 and doesn’t really get what is going on. He sees a bunch of guys “doing a lot of tackles and getting a lot of boo-boos and needing a whole lot of band-aids”. And, I guess that looks really cool and macho to him.
So good news is that, in a few years, T will be totally endoctrinated and brainwashed into the whole football thing by his dad. And that gets me off the hook.

Signs

Kira — Sun, 06 Aug 2006 14:08:26 +0000

Several years ago, where my parents live in the Atlanta area, a tornado hit. They lost power for several days and lived in a disaster area.They were lucky… they were the only house on the street that didn’t have roof damage. A house a block away was leveled, and there was one fatality in the neighborhood.
Last night, my parents came home from dinner out and the house was all, well… strange. The computer screen was multicolored. Many of the electric bulbs weren’t working. The stereo died, the phone line wasn’t working, and the something with the electronic system that regulates the sprinklers died and flooded the lawn. There were a lot of storms in the area, so yesterday evening lightning (probably) hit the ground outside their house and made a mess of things.
I don’t actually believe in God, but I’m going to let my parents know that this is just God’s gentle way of nudging them into moving up here to Baltimore.

New Air Conditioning Unit Haiku

Kira — Thu, 03 Aug 2006 00:32:36 +0000

This is most certain:
At one-hundred-one degrees
Frigidaire is cool.

(after 3 hours of sleep that is all I got to give ya)

Bad Air Conditioner Karma, Again

Kira — Wed, 02 Aug 2006 00:54:16 +0000

A little over a year ago, we had the stinkiest hottest day of the year. I wrote about it here. Quick summary: On the hottest day of the summer our air conditioner started to fail. In an act of desperation, I ended up selling my soul and shopped at evil old Walmart (where I’d never shopped before) to get a broken Haier air conditioner. Which I returned, to get ANOTHER broken Haier, which, of course, I returned to Walmart. And, in doing so, reset my karma to the good side, and I can now say once again that Walmart has never made a dime off me (slightly evil Target has, of course, but they are only 50% as bad).
Well, we never replaced that old air conditioner that had started to die last summer. After returning those bunky air conditioners, the old one ran fine the rest of last summer, and the rest of this summer too. And, we figured with a new air conditioner downstairs, it would take a load off the upstairs one and not trip the circuit breaker.
That was a dumb idea.
So guess what decided to die again on the 101 degree, hottest day of the summer this year?
Now we are once again in the position of having an iffy air conditioner and needing to get one on the hottest week of the year, which was a really stupid thing to do, considering every cheap air conditioner for miles has been purchased. The old one may limp along the next couple of days, it may not, but I don’t feel like taking chances. Mommy needs her “beauty sleep” and can’t sleep when it’s 100.
But hell if we are going to Walmart to get one!

Like An Irish Prison

Kira — Tue, 01 Aug 2006 13:44:15 +0000

What’s more fun than cleaning out a 3 year old’s poopy underwear?
How about the aftermath of a little boy trying to clean up the mess himself?
Yeah, good times. Not.
(In case you don’t get the Irish prison humor, click here and read up)

My Weight Gain Mystery Solved.

Kira — Sat, 29 Jul 2006 04:23:53 +0000

So here is the story of my weight gain explained… it’s a little long but please bear with me.
I have spent most of my life with both a gift and a curse. The gift is, that, for the majority of my life, I have never needed to diet. I’ve had a fabulous metabolism and ate whatever I wanted that didn’t bother my stomach, without worrying about weight gain. I was one of those girls who made the other girls jealous in high school, who were starving themselves to wear their fancy jeans (never had the big Barbie boobs so many girls wanted, but I’m glad I never got them).
The curse is, though, that ever since I popped out of the womb, I have had terrible insomnia. I have always been a night person, even as a baby, and when I was a child it took me several hours to get to sleep. This has not changed at all, minus several times in my twenties and early thirties when I was on various antidepressants which caused me to actually be sleepy at night, and sleep much much longer. These antidepressants and other medications, for the most part, caused a little weight gain (although one made me lose weight). That, and increasing age, did add a few pounds, although it wasn’t that much.
In 2001, I came off medication entirely because we wanted to try for our first child. I’d already started losing a little weight, due to no meds, when I found out I was pregnant. Then, of course, I had the world’s longest party with food for 9 months, waking up in the middle of the night to eat, to continue the food siesta, before and going back to bed. I gained over 50 pounds during my pregnancythat way.
Somehow, through no conscious effort of my own (but largely due to a year and a half of breastfeeding my son) I lost all the weight, plus about 10 extra. I’m sure chasing after a toddler helped a whole lot, too.
And there I was 2 days ago… wondering How the heck did I gain back 16 pounds over the last 2+ years since I quit nursing, especially in the last few months? And, I was hungry all the time. What could be the cause? Where did my old metabolism go? Could it be merely getting older?
Then I realized what happened. It was, in large part, the Benedryl.
While I was nursing, I was stuck being an insomniac and didn’t want to take any medications that would enter my breastmilk. When he was finished nursing, my little 2 AM bedtimes were making me, well… extra cranky. So I learned a little trick of taking an over-the-counter antihystamine to help me get to sleep. I loved it (And my nose was extra clear).
Earlier this year, they took my favorite antihystamine out of many stores, probably due to non-drowsy drugs like Claritin taking it’s place (which don’t work very well for allergies). This was a bummer for me. My little nite-nite pill was gone. So, I switched to the “heavy” stuff…. Benedryl.
Actually Diphenhydramine (sold under the name Benedryl) has been sold as a non-habit forming sleep-aid for years. And it does work. But it doesn’t say appetite stimulant, or hormone stimulant on the box.
So that brings me to a night a couple of days ago when I was wondering why I’d been hungry at the end of a meal and tiptoeing into the kitchen for a midnight snack most nights of the week, and never feeling full, when I did a little query on the internet and came up with this, and other similiar articles. To quote:

Nonprescription may also cause weight gain. The antihistamine, diphenhydramine, for instance, is on Dr. Blackburn’s list. It is an ingredient in dozens of popular cold and allergy remedies; sleep aids; and drugs to prevent motion sickness. An increasing number of prescription drugs, including some linked to weight gain, also become available for sale without a prescription.

So the end result of it, is I have not taken diphenhydramine in two days and already I have noticed the gigantic change in my appetite, as in — I no longer want to consume house and home. So for now, I’ve chosen to be sleepless and not continue to “grow”. Perhaps with some of those late nights, I’ll get a good blog post out of it.

Greetings From The Peach State

Kira — Fri, 28 Jul 2006 03:01:33 +0000

Or, perhaps I should say “Hey Y’all”, instead. We are having a lovely vacation as usual, but ironically the peach state seems to be free of decent tasting peaches and they are all pulpy. Strawberries aren’t bad, though.

The good:
My son didn’t poop in his underwear on the plane there.
We had a nice trip to the national aquarium.
Central Air!
Cable, Cable, and more dumb cable shows. The dumber the better. Heck, we watched a show Anna Nicole Smith, Cleavage, and old Brady Brunch reruns.
My husband and I have gone on 2 dates, thanks to Nana and Pop-Pop.
I haven’t had to cook all week.
I have 2 new bras and a pair of shorts, all on sale.
My son did poop in the potty (at a JCC pool, not in it) for the first time in several months.
I’m reading. An actual book, for a change. A good book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma. I’m learning how much petrol it takes to make a cow and how much corn is in every American (a lot).
I am so relaxed I am turning into a jellyfish.

The bad:
My son pooped in his swim diaper at the pool before he got to the toilet (thankfully not in the pool. That totally freaks out the pool people.)
It’s as stinking hot here as it was at home.
The national aquarium was so crowded you could hardly see the fish.
My parents, who have most of the luxuries in life, still have dial-up.
I am so relaxed I am turning into a jellyfish.

The odd:
Strangest thing I’ve noticed here is the people in the Atlanta area don’t put bumper stickers on their cars. In Baltimore, you know exactly what political affiliation someone has, what school their kids go to, and what their hobbies they have just by driving behind them.

The nasty:
Never, I repeat NEVER, order “sweet tea” when someone in the south asks you if you want “Sweet or Unsweet”. Georgia sweet tea is about 1 pound of sugar with just a hint of tea in a glass, and it is absolutely undrinkable. It’s funny how I could forget that.

The ugly:
I definitely cannot pretend that my dryer is shrinking my clothes and that the scale at our customer’s house is wrong. I got on a scale at the JCC Pool and OMG, have I put on weight! But there’s more to that story on my theory of why… (in which I have a new and interesting theory) and that’s another blog post. Stay tuned.

Oh Dear

Kira — Fri, 21 Jul 2006 00:52:12 +0000

I’ve obviously traumatized my son over this issue of potty training.
Whatever… I know, who knows what the hell I did exactly, but he’s nearly four and a little encouragement I thought would help. Well apparently I over-encouraged. I bribed and I clapped and did everything the books said and… here we are…
And now my son is just, well, holding it in all the time. He pees alright all the time, but he just won’t poop in the potty. Now we are at the point where every couple of days he poops, in a pull-up or his underwear. He hasn’t pooped in the potty in a couple months, and then he did it a few times and that was it.
He didn’t go yesterday, and he didn’t go today. And tomorrow morning early, we catch our plane on vacation. I really, really, hope he goes before we board.
Please!

Mommy’s Covered In Glaze

Kira — Tue, 18 Jul 2006 03:08:50 +0000

The summer had been going pretty well so far for us. The whole family’s health has been miraculous. Nobody has been sick! The first year of preschool was truly hell for that. And for the most part, being home all day again with the boy hasn’t been too bad.
That was, until about a week ago. Dr. Jeckyl was out of the office and Mr. Hyde was peeing on the floor, throwing things, and generally being a pain in the ass. And all I kept thinking was, camp camp camp camp camp.
And one good night’s sleep later, my well behaved little “angel” was back, like night and day. The irony of it was, someone must have been hearing my thoughts, because as it turned out my husband needed help on a faux job. So, this week my little “angel” is off to camp at his preschool and I am helping my husband at work with a striae finish.
Now I adore my husband, but there are 2 things that are real marriage-testers that you can do with your spouse. One - is hanging wallpaper… we’ve had some of our best arguements hanging wallpaper. The other is doing a striae finish.
I’m happy to say we didn’t kill each other today and we both took turns flipping out at different times, but not at the same time, and not at each other (much). I hate doing straie (and between you and me a lot of faux finish is dumb, but don’t tell our the customers) but I am just glad I am NOT scraping a dormer window on the 40 foot ladder in 100 degree weather. Although at times today, I wish I was.
My goal is to get through this week in one piece and finish this job, without choking any members of my family, so we can get to our vacation at the end of the week. Wish my luck.

Cramped

Kira — Fri, 14 Jul 2006 02:49:11 +0000

This really is pretty anticlimatic at this point, but I will announce it anyway - we have come to the decision to stay in our house. After a good bit of deliberation about the fact that we really like our neighbors and the (mostly) quietness of our street, and that we can nearly walk to everything, and that due to some of my volunteer work, my son has a guaranteed spot at a nearby charter school.
This of course means we will have to go through the process of finding a contractor for an addition and half bath, to work with that we like at a price that we like. (That could take another 20 years, knowing indecisive me).
So, we will put up with this tight space for another year or so and add on. However I really can’t feel sorry for myself…
…because I just read this woman’s story. She and her husband have 10 children, including four brand new quadruplets, and a set of three-year-old of triplets… when the babies come home they will have a total 11 people living in a one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles (The oldest daughter got out of there… lucky her)!
I’d hate to be pent up on a rainy day with 9 kids. Good thing it doesn’t rain a lot in Los Angeles.

Proof That Just About Anyone Can Procreate

Kira — Tue, 11 Jul 2006 00:14:49 +0000

I found a new way to feel superior, and waste time at the same time. I go to the Yahoo Answers “Pregnancy and Parenting”.
Sometimes I just read and cringe. Or giggle. Questions like,

if u have ur period on time every month u r not pregnant ??!!?

any buetiful names for gals am expecting , help?

my son is drinking soy milk !do you think that’s the reason that’s why his fart smell very bad?

my six months baby fell from a sofa?

My god, these people are procreating!!!! Not all of them are that bad, but a lot of them are.
Sometimes I answer questions. Not that I am a big parenting genius, but really it doesn’t take much to have something to offer. And although I misspell words sometimes, reading this stuff, I feel like Shakespeare.
If this is the future, we just might be doomed.

Stupid Guilty Pleasure

Kira — Sun, 09 Jul 2006 12:14:02 +0000

Last night I spent over an hour using Mr. Clean magic eraser to clean my kitchen floor.
And it was fun.
Yep, I’m a freak.

Fashion Don’t

Kira — Fri, 07 Jul 2006 14:24:03 +0000

Yesterday evening, after attending a meeting for an organization I volunteer for, I headed for the Cafe Hon to have rare glass of wine with the other committee volunteers. I wasn’t exactly dressed up, but it’s not exactly a fancy place so I figured it didn’t matter. I parked just south of “The Avenue”, the main drag known as 36th street, and got out of my car next to a bunch of Hampden teenagers wearing mostly skater attire.
One of the girls pointed at my feet and said something about my shoes and giggled. I said what? I wondered if I had stepped in something and they were just being nice enough to let me know. She repeated herself something about “nice shoes” and then the whole group of them burst out laughing.
So apparently my fake birkenstock sandals are worth making fun of.
Really I don’t think they are that bad, but what do I know.
I proceeded into the Cafe Hon and met up with the other volunteers. We talked about some volunteer stuff but also about our personal lives. One woman my age mentioned her young teenage daughter wants to dye her hair black, and just went out and bought a wardrobe of entirely black and army green. I and another fellow commented that punk/goth/emo looks beats the “hootchie girl” look any day so that perhaps it isn’t so bad (heck, black and army green are my favorite colors to wear).
I mentioned what happened to me, with the teens making fun of my sandals, and they didn’t think my sandals looked that bad either (of course, they are all my age).
We discussed what we used to look like as teenagers. The mom of the teen told me she used to have brightly dyed hair and her husband used to have a blue mohawk. I told her that I used to have black and burgundy hair which was shaved on the side, and my husband back in the early punk days had large random chunks cut in his hair.
She and I both used to wear funny imported shoes. Shoes like Monkey Boots and Creepers and Doc Martens and Na Nas, black British imported goth-y shoes that were very very pointy, what my parents called wicked witch of the west shoes. My dad hated them. Hers had rows of scull and crossbone buckles on them.
I’m so out of it I really don’t know what is popular with teenagers today. I like some newer stuff but really I’m not on top of it as all and I’m kinda stuck somewhere in the early 1990s. I’m not particularly stylish but I’m 35 and I suspect that is the way it should be. Who really wants a mom that dresses like a teenager, anyway?
I know birkenstock-style shoes are out, But they are really comfortable. And that is the same kind of comment my parents would make about some of the stuff that I find to be horribly unstylish.
Okay, get me to the old-age home already.

Weblog Confessional

Kira — Thu, 06 Jul 2006 03:58:39 +0000

Bless me Father for I have sinned.
It has been a long, long time since my last confession (actually I’ve never confessed since I’m not Catholic).
It is nearly midnight and I just spread leftover chocolate frosting on two oatmeal cookies and ate them. And now the keyboard is sticky.
How many Hail Marys and Our Fathers do I need to do?

An Idea For The Fourth

Kira — Tue, 04 Jul 2006 19:45:16 +0000

The Fourth of July means a lot of different things for different people. For some, is a reason to have a barbeque and party and get incredibly drunk. For others, it is an excuse to wave the flag while beating one’s chest in a adrenaline rush of nationalism, denouncing those who are not like-minded. Most of us Americans I think, are neither, or a teeny bit of both.
I’m not a particularly patriotic person. I have my reasons for it, which I posted on my old blog and I don’t feel like going over again. However, I do have a little patriotic idea for today.
I decided a while ago I don’t like blogging about politics because it is a waste of time, there are a zillion bettter political bloggers than I am with eager, like-minded audiences. And, a lot of the political blogs and websites tend to stifle debate and polarize rather than create a political conversation.
In fact, political conversations don’t seem to happen hardly at all anymore. Instead we have political scolding matches. After watching this news show on ABC, I am more convinced of it. Americans won’t really associate with those politically opposite of them. They won’t read the same news. They put down their political counterparts like they are satanic… when really, a lot of those so-called satanic people we might actually like, if they didn’t open their mouths about politics.
So, all you in the world out there, here’s my idea for the Fourth:
Stop being so self-righteous about political issues. Try to figure out what you have in common with your fellow Americans, all of them, even those across the aisle from you. Try to have pleasant exchange with them. Remember when you have one finger pointing out you have four pointing back at you. Don’t flame the blogs of those who differ from you politically. Consider that that they may not be any more stupid, ignorant or hypocritical than you are. Play nice. Because like it or not, we are all stuck in the same country together.

On Cars, or Why I’m Not Just Another Sucker Mother Of A Little Boy

Kira — Sat, 01 Jul 2006 03:48:13 +0000

There’s been recent whisperings amongst many of the mothers of little boys these days to other mothers of little boys.
Are you taking him to see Cars?
I’ve had 3 mothers ask me that. And the answer is for now, (probably), no.
I have to admit Disney did a brilliant marketing of Cars. It’s the perfect thing to market to little boys since most of them love cars. And, with toys and T.V. ads everywhere, and even those cars on my son’s pull-up diapers, it’s hard to ignore the blitz. My son, who usually doesn’t pay much attention to ads, has even been bugging me about it.
I thought about going — He does adore cars and trucks. And, he’s never been to a movie before. But I have my reasons not to go. 1) I hate getting sucked into marketing schemes for kids. 2) I’m not really that into cars (although I’ll hold my nose just to make my son happy). 3)The reviews have been okay, but not overwhelming blow-your-mind-good. 4)Those Pixar movies can be a little violent. Even if it is mild, (like one bug punching another in A Bug’s Life) is that really a good thing for a 3-year-old? I think not.
But the straw that broke the camel’s back on why I am not going to take my 3-year-old son to see Cars, is that 5)Its 116 minutes. That is nearly 2 HOURS. What 3-year-old can sit still, or even should sit still, for 2 hours? Or, even a 6-year-old? It’s summertime, shouldn’t they be running around outside in the ~~fresh~~ stinking, hot humid summer air, burning off steam outside so they don’t tear the house apart?
So I think one of two things will happen. We will either rent it on DVD when it comes out and watch it in parts, or, if my parents really really want to, I’ll let them take him to see it when we visit them. They can deal with the bouncing-off-the-walls aftermath that happens when a young kid sits in place for two hours eating sweet things if they want to, or not. I think he would be just as happy going to the aquarium (but what do I know, I’m not into cars.)

Bag Lady

Kira — Wed, 28 Jun 2006 00:00:46 +0000

Today I helped out at a fundraiser that Whole Foods of Mount Washington had for a new charter school. It was a nice deal for The Green School (don’t bother clicking on the link, their website is not up and running yet, give it a month or more), as Whole Foods of Mount Washington donated 5% of the sales for most of the day to the school. Had I had the forethought I would have posted it about it on my blog, in advance. Oops.
Anyhow…
It seemed that a lot of parents had volunteered, though, and my appearance at the fundraiser wasn’t exactly, well, crucial. So another volunteering mother and I were given the grand task of… bagging groceries. And, thanking customers for their contribution. It it wasn’t particularly demanding.
It did, however, give me strange flashbacks to my first (non-babysitting, w-4 needing) job as a bagger at the age of 16 for Kroger. At that job, we had an evil boss named Alan Driver, a.k.a. Alan “Slave” driver, as nicknamed by the other baggers.
We got a 15 minute break. We’d get scolded for not putting all the cold stuff together, or using the more expensive paper bags instead of plastic bags, or crushing the bread. But, if we minded our Ps and Qs, and said “Yes Ma’am” (it was the south) and brought the bags out to the customers’ cars and put them in their cars, AND if the customer was decent, we’d get a 50 cent or a dollar tip. We made more money than the checkers that way, although we were treated like dirt.
I think my bagging skills were… a little rusty. I didn’t ruin anyone’s food, though. Everyone was a whole lot nicer to me at age 35 than they were at age 16 (I guess all the cranky people had stayed home due to the downpour). Of course, I wasn’t getting paid so I’m glad they were nice. I wonder though, if the 16 year-old me would have imagined I’d be doing this again after attending college working and gettting married, at the age of 35 — even for a day.

Lucky

Kira — Tue, 27 Jun 2006 00:11:06 +0000

I’ve won very little in my life. I can name the few times I’ve won something on my fingers.
When I was in 8th grade, my class went on a school fieldtrip to see the filming of the gameshow Tick Tack Dough, and I was the audience member who won 50 bucks (which made up for the fact that our class didn’t get to see teen dream Ricky Schroeder in Silver Spoons). And, I did win a scratch off for $80 bucks in the mid 1990s. That’s it.
So, yay for me, I won something!
I entered a contest to win 2 tickets to see Jackie Greene given away by WTMD. I grabbed a girlfriend, a.k.a. my yard decorator, to go out to the Rechter Theatre to see him. She was the only friend I have who had heard of him. It was nice to have a girl’s night out… I haven’t been out to do a girls night out in like… forever.
Jackie Green and his band were pretty good - not phenomenal, but they put on a competent show. Sort of blusey rock with a little country thrown in, Van Morrison with a touch of Bob Dylan. It will be interesting to see how he matures as a performer over time.
Although, it made me feel old. He is in his mid-twenties but looks about 16. And it was really a college crowd (Although, I was not the oldest person there — quite a few 40-to-60-year-old beer-gutted men in pastel polo shirts, with their female counterparts in bad perms… I imagine they were regulars at the Rechter or something).
Also making me feel old - got tipsy on my one drink. And, was home by 11:30.
Oddly, at the show I was suprised to see a neighbor who lives on our tiny street. She also won tickets to see Jackie Greene. Maybe I’m not that lucky after all - the place was only about half full.

You Could (Almost) Hear A Pin Drop

Kira — Thu, 22 Jun 2006 13:37:17 +0000

It’s been kind of quiet here the last few days. Not that my 3-year-old has been particularly quiet, he’s not. It’s more of a relative quiet.
Emma’s in Vienna.
And that means no one dropping by on a rainy day (or a sunny day for that matter) with 2 girls in tow, for a couple months. No more repetitive playing of the Jingle Bells demo on 2 keyboards simultaneously, or a rock and roll band of 3 munchkins. No wondering why my chocolate cookies are disappearing, or what happened to my jewelry. No frilly little girl wearing princess dresses twirling my hair, or making a Barbie dance on my head. No finding pink glittery My Little Ponies with long flowing hair, left at my house. No sound of two moms indulging in a little grown-up yet immature gossip.
It’s going to be a very boring 2 months.
So who is going to come over and raid my fridge this rainy day?

Hearing Wedding Bells

Kira — Thu, 22 Jun 2006 02:37:22 +0000

Without going into messy details, in the last few weeks the extended Cranky Mommy family has been… well, full of a little craziness. None of which I have felt comfortable blogging about.
So, I am happy to report some very good news in the Cranky Mommy family! My husband’s middle son, who is 26, became engaged on his vacation to Hawaii to a very nice girl. We knew in advance it would happen, and it took a ton of inner strength to keep me from blowing the whole suprise for her (actually I didn’t keep my mouth shut entirely, I’m sure half of Baltimore knew before she did, that she was getting proposed to).
They seem a compatible couple, bonded by their total and utter dedication to Dave Matthews Band, the Baltimore Ravens, and Beer (I think, in that order). I don’t get it entirely, but it seems to work really well for them.
And, they are proof that you don’t always meet psychos on the internet - because they met on a DMB message board. Who knew the power of music to unite! I don’t know what they will do with their time if Dave stops touring, though.
So, we are very happy for them. I look forward to a New Jersey wedding in 2007. The wedding part (not sure about New Jersey, I’ve heard things).

Happy Father’s Day…

Kira — Mon, 19 Jun 2006 03:03:58 +0000

…To two really really awesome dads.
To my dad: Hope your day was enjoyable and you got your feet rubbed (or, whatever was in pain at the moment).
To my husband: Your day seemed fun, and I hope it was exactly what you wanted… you deserve it (and tomorrow, you can change the poopy diaper.)

A Heavy with T

Kira — Fri, 16 Jun 2006 00:59:09 +0000

Today my son and I discussed marriage. I explained why he cannot marry me. He’s very Oedipal these days. I explained why he cannot marry his friend Jack (I know that is not the P.C. answer, but the P.C. answer is too long and complicated for a three-year-old). I explained that he won’t be married when he is 10, and probably not until he is well over 20 (he better not!). I explained that when he gets married he will probably have kids, and no, I can’t grow younger and be his baby.
Today we also discussed death. I explained that everybody dies, that dying is like being asleep, almost all the time we won’t die for a very long long time until we are very old. Of course that is the very generic version, without an asterisk attached to that statement that starts with “unless”.
This all seemed to satisfy him pretty well.
Birds and Bees, for another day.

A Bit Of Advice For The Childless

Kira — Sun, 11 Jun 2006 16:18:41 +0000

If you plan on having kids, here’s a little advice from me, on things you should do and enjoy — before you have them.

1)Stay up late.
2)Sleep in.
3)Take long, uninterrupted baths.
4)Read on the toilet.
5)Travel.
6)Be spontaneous.
7)Especially with sex.
8)Walk around your house naked.
9)Curse.
10)Dress up to the nines, in clothes that stain easily and need dry cleaning.
11)Eat in quiet, expensive, romantic restaurants.
12)Wear impractical shoes.
13)Watch a lot of racy or violent television.
14)Be debaucherous.

That’s not to say that some these things won’t happen when you have a kid, but it will surely be less often.

Don’t Worry, You Are Doing It Wrong

Kira — Tue, 06 Jun 2006 03:19:20 +0000

I just wanted to let all of you parents out there know, you are doing something wrong. I don’t know what it is, but there’s always something. Because for the last 3 1/2 years of my son’s life, I’ve been so darn perfect. Ha.

Your kid is sleeping in a crib! That’s baby jail!
Your kid is co-sleeping! They’ll be scarred for life!
Your little baby is sleeping on it’s tummy!
You’re are nursing your baby to sleep! Her teeth will rot!
You aren’t nursing your baby to sleep! She will have emotional damage!
You’re giving your baby formula! Gasp!
You’re not giving your baby a bottle! Hiss!
They aren’t dressed warm enough!
She doesn’t drink enough liquids!
His hair looks like a girl’s! Her hair looks like a boy’s!
He’s eating food that isn’t organic!
That comes from a can!
She eats hot dogs already! He’s never had a hot dog!
You let them snack all day!
You dropped them on their head!
You feed them choking hazards like grapes that aren’t cut up!
You bring your kid to school with a cold!
You protect him too much!
You don’t protect him enough!
You put them in daycare!
You don’t get away from your child enough!
They don’t socialize enough!
You let them eat dirt! For SHAME!
She hasn’t even seen the dentist yet?
You give them Tylenol for everything!
You let them suffer with a fever!
You had 2 kids so close together?!!
You had 2 kids so far apart?!!
You waited past age 35 to have a child?
You had a kid so young?
You let him play with dolls! He will be damaged!
You don’t let him play with dolls! He will be damaged!
You let your child eat solid albacore tuna!
You don’t give your kid any seafood!
Your carseat isn’t in right! You’re as bad as Brittney Spears!
You have them in a booster seat already?
You potty trained too early!
He’s not potty trained YET?

Ah, now I feel superior. Oh wait…. I’ve done a few of these “bad” things too. 50 lashes with a wet noodle for me.

What Goes In and Comes Out

Kira — Mon, 05 Jun 2006 00:18:27 +0000

A few recent thoughts related to what goes in and what comes out:

Baking cookies: Not a smart thing to do while on a diet. Bad me.

Aside from baking cookies, most of this thing that is called “being on a diet”, is going okay. I’m never really full, but hopefullly my stomach will shrink and I won’t be so hungry. I’m thinking right about now would be a great time to catch a little stomach virus - nothing takes weight off like that. Or, maybe not.

By some miracle or another my son and husband are coughing up a storm for the last week, but I haven’t got it!

One way to spoil my appetite: my local Giant Food has been pretty empty ever since they found mice. Oh well, more mouse-laden food for me. Since I’ve seen mice at the nearby competition, Superfresh, I guess I am doomed. Plus we have our own little critter I can’t seem to kill.

Bribery only seems to help my son with potty training slightly (but it sure works on me. Hey, I want a new ~~toy~~ digital camera for taking a cr*p on the potty) He did get a toy for his first poop in the potty (yep, that rolling suitcase he wanted) and for his first all-dry day, a Playmobil set, but we have no repeats on this miraculous event. This is obviously no week-or-two affair.

There’s A First For Everything

Kira — Thu, 01 Jun 2006 14:35:09 +0000

Yesterday morning since it was boiling hot, I pulled out of my closet all of my summer capris and shorts. I put on a pair of shorts and was disappointed to find they didn’t fit me. And I then put on another, and they were a bit tight. So were my capris.
As much as I would love to believe it, my summer clothes weren’t just sitting in my closet shrinking for a year.
So it appears, as since I have turned 35, my formerly miracle metabolism has slowed down just a wee bit. So, I am going to make my first ever attempt to (gulp) diet.
I don’t have a lot of success with this. The only time I have ever tried to control my eating was when I was pregnant. Somehow (probably due to those 3 a.m. meals) I ended up being 180 pounds. On my 5′4″ frame, that is pretty damn big. I felt like tyranosaurus rex, and the ground shook when I walked. My O.B. had a very nice way of telling me I should lay off the food. It didn’t seem to help much, but in the end it didn’t matter. I had a 9 month party with food and it was fun.
Thankfully a year and a half of breastfeeding, and chasing after 1 seeker-and-destroyer took all weight right off (big plug for breastfeeding). Without any effort at all, I lost all of the baby weight, plus some extra. Way to go me.
Those days are over. I am now 9 pounds heavier. And I don’t feel like going out and buying a new summer wardrobe, so here goes nothing.
Here’s the rules to my first diet:

1)No extra meal at 11 P.M.
2)no extra meals between meals.
3)No cookies after lunch. Or breakfast.
4) A small snack between lunch and dinner.
5)Lay off those dry roasted almonds and ginger-ales.
6)Drink water.

Sounds pretty simple, right? (And yes I know, I shouldn’t be surprised at the outcome of cookies after breakfast and 11 P.M. meals)
Wish me luck.

OMG It’s A Friggin’ Miracle

Kira — Tue, 30 May 2006 04:10:34 +0000

At 3 years and over 7 months, my son has finally pooped in the potty for the first time! I was begininning to think I would be sending him off to college in pull-ups. I am doing flips of joy in my brain.
So tomorrow (well, actually today, since it is so late) we are going to Target to get him his reward. He says he wants, of all things, a rolling suitcase. Whatever! I think knowing him, he will see a car and change his mind.

Pimpin’ the Pool

Kira — Tue, 30 May 2006 00:56:42 +0000

In a desperate move to find entertainment, inspire exercise (ha), spare myself and my son from boredom and give my air conditoner a rest this summer, I joined a local pool. The Hampden baby pool is still cool, but this one is a little more upscale.
I chose the Coldspring pool because it is close and although a little expensive, not horribly expensive (I joined late, but since my son is still 3, he can go for free with my single membership). And, if I can get anyone else to join who names me as a referrer, I get $25 bucks to spend at the pool café! Woo hoo!
So, if you live in Baltimore and decide to apply, I am pimpin’ for crepes (although, looking at myself in a bathingsuit in a full-length mirror at the pool today, maybe I should stay away from the crepes).
Both the people and the facilities themselves are very nice. I do need to post a little warning, though. I did see an older guy in a tie-dye purple speedo-type bathingsuit that kind of scared me ( not the guy, but that bikini-lookin’ thing!) And, a couple of guys had some scary super furry hairy backs, that were also a bit frightening. Oh well, that could happen anywhere. And, I suppose people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw… razors.

Three Days Left! Egads.

Kira — Fri, 26 May 2006 16:37:36 +0000

There are only 3 days left of school — two days next week, and one the week after (the last day of school is a school picnic with the parents, so that hardly counts). So basically, next Thursday is the last school day where I will have 2 1/2 hours to myself, until school starts next fall.
I think I will go insane.

Can’t Afford To Live Here

Kira — Thu, 25 May 2006 03:04:52 +0000

I spent some time today trying to help find my friend find an afforable one- or two-bedroom place in Baltimore, for her to share with her boyfriend. I’m in real sticker-shock at the current rents in (formerly affordable) neighborhoods like Hampden, Charles Village, and Remington.
I remember 11 or so years ago, before I moved in with my husband, I lived in a shabby 3 story shared-house in the uppity neighborhood of Bolton Hill. It truly was a dump, but my share of the rent was a whopping: $135 a month!
Compare that with the current price of a 1 bedroom: $700 a month and up, for a modest one in Charles Village. Even in lower Charles Village. As much as I bitch about living in our under-600-square-foot-shoebox-of-a-rowhouse, I think we would be in horrible situation had we not bought when we did, when homes were still affordable here in Hampden.
I worry for my friends who still rent, if they will move far away for more affordable pastures. One friend has a 1 bedroom in Hampden for under $400, half of what it should rent for, but it won’t stay that price forever.
Which brings to mind the question: where have all the poor people gone, who didn’t own their homes? Have they moved to less desireable neighborhoods? Or, are they all packed in like sardines and sharing places, or living with their parents?

99% boy

Kira — Mon, 22 May 2006 01:04:37 +0000

My son is usually very boyish. He’s a little guy, far from a big ol’ macho man, but he is truly all boy. He LOOOOVES trucks, cars and trains, pretending to build stuff, wearing his Ravens football outfit, making messes. And doesn’t like dolls or dressup.
But the past week or two he has been saying some, well… curious things.
Like saying I’m going to be a Mommy all day.
When I ask him what being a mommy is, he says, doing important things. And okay, well that makes sense. I do do important things, and it is nice that somebody noticed.
And then he wants to pee on the potty like mommy. And I think, well, that’s good, he will aim better and that’s less mess.
And then, at the park, he is playing castle. And he tells a mom standing next to the play equipment, that he is queen of the castle. And I think that is just damn funny.
It’s nice when kids are so young that they say funny things like that unselfconsciously. A doubt my son will be Queen of the castle when he is much older. Still I think I will remember that and use it to blackmail him when he’s reached puberty.

Evil In Our Midst

Kira — Sun, 21 May 2006 00:05:01 +0000

I just found out today that a registered sex offender lives one street away from me. A friend emailed me the information from the Maryland Sex Offender Registry. Several of his neighbors have children, and his backyard is very close to mine. Indeed, the entrance to his backyard is just feet from mine. There are 22 total registered offenders in my ZIP code, but this is very very close.
I don’t know what much of the details are of his offense, but I do know it is a “Child Sex Offender, 3rd degree sexual offense”, which could be many things… all varying levels of bad. A neighbor is trying to find out a little more information on this guy from the police.
I know these people have to live somewhere, I just wish it wasn’t within such a close proximity of children. Or at least, let their neighbors know! If I were Queen Of The World, I would make it law that these sex offenders should not just register, but should notify every neighbor by mail, within a half of a mile, that they are a sex offender. It is dishonest for these sex offenders to coexist with their neighbors without being forthright about who they are, putting on a front like they are just another “nice guy”.
And, I have been told, he “seems like a nice guy”. Ugh.

Babbling about Brooke

Kira — Tue, 16 May 2006 21:48:23 +0000

As I was in line checking out of the grocery store today, I saw the current People Magazine cover with Brooke Shields, her new baby and her older daughter. Although they all look okay, I was struck by how unnatural looking it is, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

Part of it, I’m sure, is that she is wearing heavy, full evening makeup and is clearly not out for the evening with her husband. But the fact is that NO mother of a newborn and preschooler looks like that — uber fixed, rested, with no shmutz or spit up on their clothes.
Shouldn’t she be walking around in a fuzzy bathrobe looking tired, feeling fat and with engorged breasts, like every other mother of a newborn? Doesn’t she make you feel like crap because she’s a mom and 40 and looks so together? Well, she probably has a nanny and maybe it was a lot of posing and airbrushing, but I find that photo unbelievable.

To entertain myself I’ve come up with 8 thoughts she might have had when they did that shoot.

1)Work that Camera, Grier. Strike a pose, Rowan.
2)I think someone needs a diaper change.
3)Tom, I know she’s a babe but your little scientologist wife and kid can’t compare.
4)Now where did I put that bottle of antidepressants?
5) My undereye concealer really is hiding my circles.
6)I think my nursing pads are leaking.
7)I wonder if Bright Beginnings will cut me a deal on formula with this kid.
8)This bed is really comfy, it must be naptime.

Obligatory Mother’s Day Post

Kira — Sun, 14 May 2006 17:19:42 +0000

Since this is a “Mommy” blog I suppose I need to write an obligatory mother’s day post. I don’t have a lot to say but here goes anyhow…
So far I have talked on the phone to my Mother, visited my mother-in-law, gotten flowers and candy (which I have put a large dent in already) and received a nice hand-made card, a joint project of my son and his father. I did get in a nice relaxing bath this morning that was only slightly intruded on by T.
Currently T is screaming at the top of his lungs because he can’t go in the bathroom with dad while he is taking his bath. He has sat for several time outs already today, and although he was well behaved earlier, he is in a crummy mood. It’s rainy out and we don’t have a whole lot planned for today. I was hoping my husband would take him out to the park, but that is probably not going to happen due to weather. He lost his chance to go to the toy store due to bad behavior. I would really like a couple of hours to myself to waste but I think I will have to wait until bedtime for that since he is no longer napping.
I wish all you mothers out there — a day of good behavior on the part of your kids, and pampering on the part of your husbands/significant others. I guess it wouldn’t be Mother’s Day if we had the whole day off, now would it?

Complainfest 2006 Continues

Kira — Sun, 14 May 2006 01:12:37 +0000

The past week has been rather hazy.
Not in the usual way my mind is hazy (which it always is), but rather, my vision is hazy — everything looks like one of those flashback/dream sequences on a 1980s sitcom, where the edges of the screen are blurry because someone put vaseline on the camera lens to make it all “dreamy”.
The haze is due to all the… eye pus, yes, it’s gross but I said it, from my lingering pink eye (and can I say that has got to be the ugliest word in the english language and I hope to never type it again).
My son’s pink eye went away very quickly on it’s own and without medication, just like the Dr.s said, but mine seems to want to linger a while so I’m going to call my Dr. monday morning and demand something toxic and killing to microbes for my eyes. Not that having pink eye is so bad, but the fact is:

Everyone who doesn’t know me takes one look at my red eyes and thinks that I am on drugs.

I am, admittedly, a space cadet, which doesn’t help the matter. But I’ve been that way my whole life, so much so that some kid in 4th grade gave me the nickname Earth To Kira and another kid in Jr. High called me Stoner (long before I did anything illegal). So fumbling through my coupons, spacing out in line at the grocery store in a city known for it’s drug addicts, I just look suspicious, even with my son holding my had.
So, just to clarify, I have a grand pronouncement to make:

I am not on drugs! I just have pinkeye and I’m a space cadet.

There. Now the world knows and I feel better.
On a good note, though, my poison ivy seems to be slightly going away, and the prescription cream I got for it was the cheapest prescription I have ever paid for — $4.91 cents total. My share will be $1.22. Yee haw.

7 Things I Would Never Do, If I Weren’t A Mother

Kira — Thu, 11 May 2006 14:50:17 +0000

1)get teared up watching kids reunite with their parents on mushy reality shows on T.V. I was never that sappy before I had a kid.
2)oogle at baby clothes, and think Oooooh that is so cuuuute! It even creeps me out, when I do it. Thankfully, I put them back on the rack… I have no one to buy baby clothes for right now.
3)lift-and-sniff.
4)use vocabulary like Yucky. No-No. Potty. I sound like a preschool teacher.
5) clean a kid’s face with spit.
6) consider matching father-son or mother-son outfits. I know, it’s a horribly geeky thing to do, the kind of thing you see at the airport on families returning from a Disneyworld vacation, with mom, dad, and kids all wearing the same ugly tee shirt, hat and jeans. My husband will talk me out of it, I think.
7)Wear the same pair of jeans 3 days in a row
8)Keep that hand sanitizer stuff in my purse

I Have A Nice Husband

Kira — Mon, 08 May 2006 21:34:10 +0000

I have poison ivy all over my neck, and pink eye. and he still thinks I’m hot.

Thoughts Of The Past Week

Kira — Fri, 05 May 2006 23:21:46 +0000

Using a stall in a public restroom with a chatty 3-year-old is a challenge — to keep 1)The rest of the women in the bathroom from getting the play-by-play and 2)to prevent the other women in the restroom from giving my son a little inadvertent peep show. This week I failed on 1) but succeeded on 2). When I left the bathroom, the women in the restroom had funny grins on their faces. Someone should come up with an invention to solve this problem. Until then I will have to resort to rope and a granola bar (Chewy stops the chatter).

Pink eye is an annoying illness for a kid to have. All it does is make your kid’s eyes look yucky, and keep them out of school. Meanwhile, the kid feels fine and keeps bugging you to have a friend over, over and over. I have spent most of the week with a kid who has lots of energy and no one to play with — but me. Mommy needs a break. And maybe a coctail…

We have a new van (new to us). It’s an Econoline, again. It’s nice, white, and nicknameless. No ideas, as of yet. Suggestions?

If you live in Baltimore, I hope you weren’t cooped up in front of a computer reading blogs this week. Hopefully, you were outside enjoying the weather at a place like Cylburn (I love to plug one of my favorite places in Baltimore City).

Out Of The Vault

Kira — Mon, 01 May 2006 12:54:28 +0000

Not the Disney vault, by my own personal vault….
Here’s a student art film I made in 1993, with an old video toast program, and in-line editing system, very primitive. I just transferred it from dusty old VHS.
(high speed connection recommended)

Good-Bye, Bismark

Kira — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 23:32:40 +0000

My husband’s old work van, an ‘89 Ford Econoline, is about to die. It’s been on it’s last legs for some time, and before it dies on the road, it’s time to put it out of it’s misery.
Nicknamed the the Bismark by my husband and also the ficken-wagen* by my husband’s old neighbor, it has seen better days. But somehow it has lasted this long.
It was purchased in 1993 used, a replacement for it’s predecessor, an ‘81 Ford Mustang, a.k.a. The Bitch Magnet. It has been sideswiped several times and in 3 accidents. One accident totalled the car that rear ended us, while The Bismark remained mostly unharmed, aside from a tail-light bulb needing replacing.
It has 130,000 miles on it.
It has dents on every side.
The air conditioning doesn’t work.
The heat doesn’t work.
The shocks are gone.
The body is rusted.
The overdrive hasn’t worked in years, so don’t bother trying to take it on the freeway.
The cooling system was jimmy-rigged together with nuts and bolts by a crazy mechanic.
It is entirely covered with paint spills.
The cassette player eats tapes.
The interior trim is falling apart.
The rearview mirror falls off periodically, no matter how much we reglue it.
Only one speaker works.
The steering column had to be replaced last year, and it didn’t exactly match, so you can’t tell when you are in neutral or drive or reverse.
And, to add insult to injury, some goofy punk snapped off the antenna last week.
So…..
This week, we hunt for a new work van. Another Ford Econoline. Good-bye, Bismark, it’s been good times.

*In “proper” German I think it should be Fickkleinebus but I’m not quite sure.

Hampden Changes

Kira — Sun, 30 Apr 2006 00:46:53 +0000

I really like how our street is shaping up right now. The formerly junkie-owned house with the sky peeking through the ceiling, is now a reasonable rehab. Our neighbors have a lot of plants and flowers in front of their houses and on their porchfronts, and it looks really cheery. There’s even been some talk of a street party. It will make it harder to leave this house, should we decide to do so.
In fact, all Hampden has changed remarkably since I first saw it in 1993 and swore I would never live there (boy did I make a liar out of myself).
That’s not to say that all the changes to the neighborhood I’m happy with. A few of them are snobby yuppies who don’t know how to manage or clean up after their dogs any better than the people they replaced (were they raised in a barn?). Some of the old people who live in the neighborhood complain that the newcomers won’t talk to them, and are unfriendly. The older folks are leaving, not because they feel displaced by newcomers, but because rowhouses have a whole lot of stairs that they can’t handle.
I’m certainly happy to see some of the riff-raff go, and most of the new neighbors that have bought and rented houses have been nice additions. I’ll miss the old folks, though. And, I’m hoping that the neighborhood doesn’t loose all it’s quirky characters.
That is, with one exception. I’m hoping that one redneck, who blasts potty-mouth music and whose whooping and hollering kids were jumping on a trampoline at midnight last night, decides that Parkville is the Holy Land and moves there. Pronto.

Thoughts From an Uncellular Mom

Kira — Thu, 27 Apr 2006 15:24:17 +0000

There is a cult out there that has taken over the masses. The cult has won over many people I know, and although some of my friends are not part of the cult, my parents and many of my friends have succumbed to the cult’s fiendish ways.
The Cell Phone Cult.
I am almost, positively, the last mom on the planet to not have a cell phone (that is, except for this one). Most of my friends have succumbed. The same people who used to get totally irritated with people talking on their cell phone in the grocery store, in public parks, and while driving their cars, have transformed into — the people who talk on their cell phones in grocery stores, public parks, and while driving their cars.
I never cease to be amazed how people think it perfectly fine to talk on their cell phones just about anywhere. The worst offenders are often the ones who walk around with those little headsets like those old Time-Life Telephone Operators ready to take your call, and feel it is perfectly fine to have a business meeting and boom their voice loudly while standing in line at the bank.
People, these things have off buttons. You don’t need to be available every darn second of the day. Take time to look out the flowers without being interrupted. It is more important to not get hit by another driver, than to pick up that gallon of milk. We are in the middle of Turn Off Your T.V. week. Anyone up for the Turn Off Your Cell Phone week?
One more thing… if you cannot turn off your phones, please, just at least put them on vibrate. And all those ringtones are never, ever, ever going to sound beautiful, so why bother.
I see no reason to have to have a cell phone, right now, at least (we will see when my son is a teenager). I can put off spending $50 - $100 bucks a month for what my husband calls “an electronic leash”. I will wait a little longer to get a cell phone. Although, I am sure to join the cult eventually, picking up every call no matter where, interrupting pleasant outdoor walks, romantic dinners, and the like.

Very Random Thoughts

Kira — Sun, 23 Apr 2006 00:47:11 +0000

I keep sneezing and I’m not sure if it is a cold or allergies. I don’t know if I should add to my illness tally for 2006.

I am really annoyed by the fact that I keep getting “spam referrals” to my blog. Sites that really aren’t people reading my blog, but are hoping I will click back and buy vi*agra or pills or something. It’s a really pathetic way to try to get someone to visit your site and I can’t imagine that any site gets business out of that kind of spamming.

In fact, I am pretty convinced from the spam I get, that all the internet is about is porn, selling vi*agra and scams to get ripped off by people in third-world countries.

I think that I am doing too much volunteer work, as evidenced by my husband telling me you need to stop volunteering for everything. He might be right.

Today is one of those days where instead of chanting Serenity Now Serenity Now to myself I am chanting Bedtime Bedtime Bedtime . And I am not talking about mine or my husband’s bedtime.

On that last thought, ironically, I can hear my husband reading Where The Wild Things Are for my son’s bedtime story.

To shave, or not to shave? I’m pretty ordinary looking these days, no tats or piercings or hairdye or anything like that. The one thing I do that is a little freaky is that I don’t shave. Mostly out of lazyness. I am wondering this summer if I should quit the laziness and put some effort into shaving or just keep letting my little freak-flag fly.

To dye or not to dye? For 10 years I dyed my hair a bright auburn red color. I quit doing that about 8 years ago. I am thinking of dying it again. Of course, that requires effort. Which, I am not big on. The debate rages, if only in my head.

To move or not to move? For the last several years my friends have had to listen to a running dialogue (with myself) about whether to move or to put on an additon. My poor husband has had to listen to more. In the meantime, due to indecisiveness, we are still living in under 600 square feet of space. And I continue to repetitively debate myself. Poor Them.

I’m so glad I don’t have dial-up anymore.

If I die, my husband might actually have to figure out how to use the computer.

No Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

Kira — Thu, 20 Apr 2006 23:13:50 +0000

Last night I responded to an email from Parentcenter, and went to their site to try out their adult height calculator. After inputting my child’s age and height, and my height and my husband’s height, the calculator reported this:

Thanks for using our calculator!

Your son will likely be 5 feet, 6 inches tall at age 18.

This prediction is a “best guess” but it’s still just that — a guess. Based on the formula we used,* there’s a 58 percent chance your son’s full-grown height will be within 1 inch (above or below) of this prediction, an 85 percent chance it will be within 2 inches, and an 96 percent chance it will be within 3 inches.

The fine print:

This method relies on where your son falls on the Centers for Disease Control’s growth charts, and it assumes that he’ll remain in the same percentile until he reaches his adult height. The accuracy of the prediction varies because some children will fall into different percentiles throughout childhood.

It’s a pretty big margin of error, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it is close to correct. My husband’s 3 grown boys are between 5 foot 6 to 5 foot 8, and their mother is a little shorter than I am. None of his grown kids beat their father in height, and he is 5 foot 8.
What’s the point of all this? Nothing, really. But taking into account his personality, and the way he is treated by some of his friends, it might all add up into karate lessons instead of basketball.

An Illness I Didn’t Get

Kira — Sun, 16 Apr 2006 17:10:58 +0000

My parents are heading back home today. Although it was good to see them as always, most of their time was spent eating broth, rice and jello, because of a miserable tummy bug they had.
The “highlight” of the trip was being woken by a phone call at 7 a.m. by my father, dramatically declaring he might have to go to the hospital, even call an ambulance, but doesn’t want to bother anybody and he would probably just take a cab (he swears he didn’t tell it as I describe, but I stand by my story, even though I was sleepy). Thankfully he was just fine later that day.
I have come to the conclusion that part of getting older is fulfilling the need to tell all the little details of how your body is functioning at multiple points throughout the day. And, because I come from a bodily-function obsessed family, and things like this seem to get worse with age, it is my absolute destiny as I get older to tell family, friends, neighbors, perhaps even strangers, the exact state of my digestion at all hours. God help them all.

Animals At The Zoo

Kira — Wed, 12 Apr 2006 00:33:05 +0000

Yesterday my son, one of his friends, and his mother and I went to the Maryland Zoo In Baltimore. T’s friend, who is 3 also, is going through a little potty-mouth phase, probably picked up from kids at school. Nothing really bad, just a little gross. “Look at his butt!” “Look at the monkey’s butt!” he said over and over, pointing at a chimp.” “Poo Butt!” He seemed to be trying to get a reaction out of my son but luckily T wasn’t paying much attention (this time.)
His mother explained his behavior to a woman who worked in the chimp area. “Oh, that’s nothing, you should hear what the teenagers say!” she said.
Later, in the Africa area of the zoo, we saw a little obscene behavior by a rhino. What started as scratching his belly on a low-lying rock, turned into a humping session. Our boys were oblivious to it all; a group of teenagers to our left, however, were not. Every time the rhino moved a little “southward” on the rock, a chorus of whooping, like a pack of apes, rose up… the rhino had it’s own little cheering squad. It seems the teenagers felt quite at home there…
…Maybe a little too at home. Not looking forward to the teenage years.

Wishing You Were Here

Kira — Mon, 10 Apr 2006 02:08:04 +0000

My mother just gave me this picture of my recently departed grandmother on a cruise ship in 1988 (I’m assuming with some performers on board, but who knows).
This photo was taken on the last cruise she took with my late grandfather, before his dementia worsened. And as you can see, that little 5-foot woman had a marvelous time on this one.

After my grandfather passed away in the mid 90s, Omi decided to finish off all of the equity in her house enjoying herself on cruise ships. She sent to me this picture from one of them in 1997, standing next to a native of Pago Pago (Samoa).

In the accompanying note, she writes,

Dearest Kira,
How does this pic grab you? I am holding a turtle that is over 100 years old and tries to get under my blouse! I wish the guy would have wanted that! Is he gorgeous, or what?
Love You,
Omi

If he only knew.

Who’s Been Listening To My Car Stereo?

Kira — Sun, 09 Apr 2006 02:38:55 +0000

As we drove out to the Sears outlet store today to get a new dryer, I decided to search through my glove box for cassette tape that I hadn’t heard in a while (yes, we still have cassettes!). Inexplicably, I found a tape that totally doesn’t belong. Not only does the tape not belong to me or my husband, but also no one I know would ever even admit to owning it.
It’s a Poison tape. The “classic” Open Up and Say Aah.
Yes, you remember Poison, that 80’s hair band. Who could forget Nothin’ But A Good Time? Or, Girls Girls Girls? Dear God. I’m a very cheesy person but, even that is too cheesy for me. I draw a line in the sand in front of that one.
I am at a total loss as to how that tape got there. I have one friend, a.k.a. Thrift-Store-Decorations-In-My-Yard-Girl, who occasionally likes to do odd pranks, but she was never into that hair band stuff. Still, I will email her and ask her if it was her doing.
Or, maybe Goldilocks is a metalhead and took my car for a drive.

I Probably Should Dust A Little More Often

Kira — Sat, 08 Apr 2006 03:59:06 +0000

Me: How’s the movie?

Husband: Gabbeh looks really, really good on DVD.

Me: Guess what? I dusted the T.V.

Husband: Oh! Maybe that’s why it looks so good.

Boring Home Expenses

Kira — Sat, 08 Apr 2006 01:07:11 +0000

There are times when I think to myself, woo-hoo, we are homeowners, we bought our house at just the right time for very little and isn’t it great to be a homeowner! And then, there are times like now, when our gas dryer has died and we have to buy a new one, and I think wouldn’t be great to be a renter.
Some people might get off on buying household appliances, for me it is a pretty unglamorous purchase. I imagine other things I could spend that money on, like, a weekend trip to the beach or new sofa. Almost anthing is more exciting than purchasing a dryer!
And if I think a little harder, that isn’t true — there are much more unexciting home expenses in our future. Like, getting your chimney relined! I think that wins as the most boring home expense ever. Then you don’t even have something nice to look at; you can just tell your friends and neighbors that you got your chimney relined, but that is all. $1500 or so for something you can’t see, hear, smell, or feel. You just know that your chimney is all fine.
So I guess at least with a new dryer I can say, Ooooh, my clothes are soooo dry. And, I can caress the unscratched white enamel surface, ooohing and ahhhing like a slightly aroused housewife in a 50s Maytag commercial. Or not.
So what is your most unglamorous home expense?

Agenda

Kira — Thu, 06 Apr 2006 23:41:48 +0000

My parents are coming to visit in a few days. So what is the agenda for them?
~~Free babysitting for Mom and Dad!~~ Loving one-on-one time with their grandson.
~~Shopping!~~ Quality mother-daughter bonding time.
~~Vacation from Cooking!~~ Excellent family meals cooked by my father.
Yep, It’s going to be another nice visit.

I (Heart) My Computer

Kira — Tue, 04 Apr 2006 13:47:10 +0000

My husband doesn’t always do what I want him to do.
My son doesn’t always do what I want him to do.
But (right now), my Imac G5 does EXACTLY what I want it to do.
I’m thinking, 1 out of 3 ain’t bad.

Happy Post

Kira — Sat, 01 Apr 2006 00:00:18 +0000

See, I can write a (mostly) positive and upbeat post! Just watch me.

I am happy to report my brother-in-law’s lung tumor is benign, and he will be out of the hospital in a few days.

And, since I am totally stuck in the 80’s and we managed to get a babysitter for a change, we went to The 8 x 10 to see Glenn Tilbrook, the former lead singer of Squeeze, and had a lot of fun. Although in his late 40s and a smoker, he still has great pipes and still sounds uncannily like Paul McCartney.

In other good news, my son has kept his pull-up diaper dry all day (no pee) and has mostly done the same all week. To those of you that told me just to wait until he is ready and not push it… well you now have me convinced. Now, all we have to do is get the “other end” on board. He hasn’t really pooped in the potty yet (he did once finish one BM in the potty a few weeks ago, but that is it).

Eh, I can’t help but do a little whining. Although, all of that good stuff almost makes me forget I have a little cold. Again. Cold count for 2006: 6.

Ominous

Kira — Thu, 30 Mar 2006 15:09:46 +0000

Tomorrow, my brother-in-law is going in for surgery to remove a lung tumor that was found unexpectedly — in preparation for minor surgery. Although my husband and I aren’t particularly close with his brother, he is in our thoughts right now.
We don’t know if it cancer or not, yet. One doctor thinks it might be and other said he doesn’t.
The fact is, that he hadn’t smoked cigarettes in a long time, although he’d exposed himself to his own second-hand pipe smoke for years. By comparison, my husband, his brother, smoked 2 1/2, yes that is right - two and a half, packs a day. He started as a teenager and quit shortly after we got married, and hasn’t smoked since 1999.
I feel badly for my husband’s brother, but I also take it as an ominous sign for my husband. His father died of pancreatic cancer (although largely aggravated by alcoholism). I know that it is all left up to fate at this point, and I have no control over any of this stuff. However, it kind of makes me want to run off to a health food store… and start sprinkling some magic antioxidants on top of his breakfast cereal, or something.

Exercise - It’s Not Just For Kids

Kira — Wed, 29 Mar 2006 23:52:07 +0000

To the idiots who drove their cars and S.U.V.s up the WALKING path at Linkwood Park:
A-duh, It’s a WALKING path.
And, when someone tells you nicely You will get a ticket for parking IN the park, that really means:
Get your EXTREMELY lazy butt back in your vehicle, drive it back down the WALKING path, then walk up the path like everyone else. And try not to run over any toddlers on your way out.

Psssst… Because I May Jinx It

Kira — Mon, 27 Mar 2006 19:12:35 +0000

The boy is peein’ in the potty, suddenly…. and staying pretty much dry, all day!
All of the sudden. (Don’t ask me, I don’t know what I did).
But let’s keep quiet on this, and I will just knock on wood.

On Mommy “Cliques”

Kira — Sun, 26 Mar 2006 03:10:40 +0000

I first heard about this book, Queen Bee Moms and Kingpin Dads, on A Mama’s Rant (and I also found a link to an article about this book at Dot Moms). The book, which I haven’t read yet, discusses Mom Cliques.
It was a subject very important to me right after I gave birth to my son, and all my friends were childless and I had no “mommy friends” to speak of. Now, it is of less importance, because I have a number of “mommy friends” here and there who I enjoy spending time with (who aren’t a part of any clique, thankfully).
A Mama’s Rant asks these questions of her readers, which I though I would elaborate on: what’s your take on mommy cliques? Do they exist? How have they affected you? Are they responsible for the so-called Mommy Wars? And - dare I ask - what category do you fit in?

Do mommy cliques exist? Most certainly. Not all the time and everywhere, but they are out there. Even on the internet, you can see “cliques” of mom bloggers, which I find quite funny. One hopes it all ends at high school but apparently it doesn’t. Of course, I am destined to fail with any clique at any point in my life, partly because I have always hated them, and partly because I am too socially inept to figure out the games and rules.
How have they affected you? I remember that when my son was younger, I was blown off by a lot of moms who were part of the “Attachment Parenting”, “Natural Living”, and “Natural Childbirth” crowd, a clique all unto itself. Not that I don’t have friends who aren’t into all of that (and I wasn’t into some of it) but the most hardcore advocates want nothing to do with you if your child sleeps in a crib which they call “baby jail” right in front of you. I also have, at times, felt a bit outclassed economically by some of the more upper-middle-class moms. Generally speaking though, in my current life I somehow manage to avoid most of it (for now, until my son hits school age, I suppose).
Are they responsible for the so-called Mommy Wars? I’ve heard about the “Mommy Wars”, which I think is the so-called wars between working moms and stay-at-home moms. I don’t think mommy cliques have anything to do with them, but I hardly know any working moms, so maybe they do! The working moms I know are working out of need and not out of love of work or need for career self-fulfillment, and one can hardly fault anybody for just trying to make a living. I used to think much worse of some working moms who were trying to “have it all” materially, and weren’t making the sacrifice to stay-at-home with their child. At this point though, I figure — happy mom, happy kid, and there are much greater crimes against humanity and I should just keep my mouth shut on this matter.
And - dare I ask - what category do you fit in? A hard one. In some ways, Outcast Mom. However, I do have “mommy friends” (hehe, some people can put up with me) so I don’t know if that fits. In other ways, I think I defy definition and would like my own category. Perhaps Iconoclastic Mom. Cynical-Snarky-Depressive-Silly-Cranky-Arty-Farty Mom. That works for me.

Not Walking The Line

Kira — Thu, 23 Mar 2006 03:06:11 +0000

I managed to get rid of those tickets on Freecycle. (Only today, my thinking-more-clearly-than-I friend suggested that I go to a Stereolab Fan Yahoo Group and try and hock them there. A great idea too late). Instead of the hubby and I going out and seeing a band, we watched the medicocre Walk The Line. Bleh. I don’t know who raved about it (it seems like everyone and their uncle liked it) but we sure didn’t.
It was simplistic and slow. Not Akira Kurosawa Good slow, just bad slow. Johnny Cash’s character and motivations weren’t developed enough, so I couldn’t empathize with him much. And okay, Joaquin Phoenix looked and sounded a good bit like Johnny Cash (perhaps an octave higher) but it just made me want to listen to the real thing.
And then there were little things that really bugged me, that prevented me from suspending my belief any further. Like, when Joaquin Phoenix goes off to the Air Force and says good-bye to his mother, and I’m thinking his mother looked young enough to be his girlfriend. And, how Jerry Lee Lewis’ character was wearing a bad wig… with a $28 million dollar budget, couldn’t they have afforded a better wig? And, how the guys rockin’ out in Fulsom prison looked more like out-of-work L.A. actors than prisoners.
It was nicely shot. And, the acting was…okay… but it didn’t make up for the simplistic script.
Seeing Walk The Line reaffirmed the fact that I should pay absolutely no attention to award shows for films (at least the Academy Awards and The Golden Globes). In fact I am struggling to think of a single Hollywood film in the last ten years that has made me go, Wow. Until Hollywood makes something worthwhile in films, I seek my solace in television. If it isn’t good, it’s at least cheaper. I’m look forward to the antidote: Dead like Me Season II.

Snot, and Free Tickets

Kira — Tue, 21 Mar 2006 17:01:13 +0000

Guess what I am happy about?
I can… get this… breathe… through one side of my nose!!! YAY!
Of course, I still have this awful snot. The rubber cement kind. So does my family. This year, sitting around the table with us at dinnertime, is like eating with three Darth Vaders. 3 Snorting, mouth-breathing Darth Vaders.
I need to come up with a good use for all of it. I am thinking, adhesive. I just found some green stuff stuck to the wall that undoubtedly my son wiped and stuck there who knows when, and it took me a hell of a long time to get it off — that stuff is stronger than super glue. I’m not sure about my writing or artistic abilities, but damn, I we make some pretty good snot, and I need to market it.
—-
On another note… although I have put out notices on Craigslist D.C. and Baltimore for my 2 Stereolab tickets, I have no bites, so they are about to go on Baltimore Freecycle. C’mon, there has got to be somebody in Baltimore who is stuck in the 90s like me and wants to see Stereolab. For free. $18 bucks a piece.( And, the tickets are snot-free, too).

Concert Tickets For Sale, Stereolab @ the 9:30 Club

Kira — Mon, 20 Mar 2006 15:21:10 +0000

I am sick (of course). And babysitterless. So, please, buy my tickets. Best offer.

Stereolab at the 9:30 Club, Washington D.C. 2 tickets. for Tues. Mar.21 (tomorrow)

It will be picked up by you, or I can meet you somewhere, since there is no time to mail.

Good-bye, Omi

Kira — Fri, 17 Mar 2006 04:02:19 +0000

The woman dancing with me in this photo, wearing the wig (and that very see-through, hand-crocheted-by-herself dress), is my grandmother, Gerda, whom I called Omi. This picture of us is from my wedding in 1998. She died today of heart failure at the ripe old age of 87, and was my last living grandparent. It was unexpected, after a short illness.
Quite a character, she was not an easy person to have as a family. Overall her life had had some tough spots, and I am sure that was partly a consequence of that. However, the person we called Hurricane Gerda — a tiger of a woman who put fear into the heart of many a waitress, city council person, and family member — grew into a mostly sweet, appreciative little old lady with dementia who was much easier to love. She was able to reconcile somewhat with her son the last years of her life (they hadn’t spoken to each other in over 30 years, until my wedding).
Up until a few days ago, she lived fairly independently in a senior home, despite her dementia (which I wrote about this past December). She was just getting to the point where my parents thought it might be time to move her. Thankfully, she was spared having to go through the stress of adjusting to assisted living or a nursing home, and suffered little at the end. Although I miss her, I feel very happy for that.

My Own Grocery Store Awards

Kira — Sun, 12 Mar 2006 00:50:30 +0000

(warning: Baltimore-centric post below.)
A consequence of not being able to plan a week’s meals in advance, is that I practically live in grocery stores, and am an expert on some of them. Each one has something I like and something I hate about it. So, here are my own personal grocery store awards*.

Store With The Most Disgusting Looking Grocery Carts: Giant Food at the Rotunda. My god, you are supposed to put FOOD in those things! (What is that orangish stuff on those carts? I hope it is rust).

Best Butt-Kissing Grocery Store, No Matter How Much Money You Make (They Even Open The Door For You): Eddie’s of Roland Park

Store Most Likely To be Run Over By Senior Citizen pushing a Shopping Carts: Giant Food at the Rotunda (retirement home and nursing homes nearby)

Store That You Need To Check The Sell By Date On Yogurts:Superfresh (not)

Store Most Likely To be Run Over By an S.U.V. in The Parking Lot: Whole Foods in Mt. Washington.

Cheapest Produce On The East Coast:Haymana Market Of Owings Mills. 39 cents a pound for loose potatoes and onions.

Grocery Store With The Happiest Looking Employees:Trader Joe’s. I don’t know if they are faking it or if it is real, but it’s pretty convincing (maybe it’s those Hawaiian shirts they wear.)

Hoidy-Toidyest Market: Whole Foods Of Fells Point.

Best-Looking Produce Until You Look At The Pricetag:Whole Foods.

Place You Will Be Damned To Hell For Shopping There, So I Don’t Shop There:Sam’s Club.

Grocery Stores Everyone Tells Me To Check Out, And I Never Go because I Don’t Like To Drive That Much: Han Ah Reum and Wegman’s.

Best Reason To Go Off A Diet and Remember Why Its Not Called A Health Food Store, It’s Called A Whole Food Store: the Desserts in the Bakery at Whole Foods.

Best Place To Double Coupons And Get Stuff For Free:Superfresh. Coupons double up to a dollar. Cha-ching!

Best Place to Buy Snake Oil:Whole Foods. Sorry I’m not a true believer in a lot of the health products they sell (plus one of my stepsons used to sell vitamins there)

Best Place To Witness Fights Breaking Out Between Customers Speaking Broken English, Standing In Line:Haymana Market Of Owings Mills. Almost Every Time I Go! Especially on the weekends.

Place Where A Few Of The Customers Look Inbred: I’ts a close one, there are so many… plus I live in Hampden (Anyone Remember the old E-Z markets? Those would have been and E-Z win). I’ll say, a triple tie between the Hampden Superfresh, Hampden Giant, and the Charles Village Safeway.

Grocery Store That Didn’t Live Up To It’s Nickname: The “Gucci” Giant In Pikesville.

Best Place To Get a Warning From The Fish Guy Not To Buy The Basa In The Window, Because It isn’t Fresh: Superfresh (How ironic). And yes that did happen!

Grocery Store That Is Nice, But The Neighborhood Freaks You Out A Little Bit So You Won’t Shop There At Night: The Giant Food In Waverly. And I don’t think I am being paranoid.

Nicest Cashiers:Another hard-to-call one, but I will say The Giant At The Rotunda In Hampden.

Best Place To Get Scolded For Forgetting To Use A Toothpick To Pick Up A Food Sample: Whole Foods In Mt. Washington. And I am guilty as charged.

Best Piercings And Tattoos On Employees:Whole Foods In Mt. Washington

(*after writing this list, I noticed it imitates Baltimore Citypaper’s Best Of Baltimore, but it really was unconscious)

Stay-At-Home Dad Questions

Kira — Thu, 09 Mar 2006 04:43:00 +0000

I’m always impressed at the number of stay-at-home/work-at-home dads that I see. For example, when I go to my playgroup, out of about 30 kids on a given day, there will be 3 or 4 stay-/work-at-home dads there with their kids (Maybe some of them just work odd hours, but I don’t know all of them well enough to ask). Most of them seem pretty happy with the arrangement, and so do their children.
There are some questions I have though, about being a stay-at-home dad. Questions that will probably never be answered. Like:

When two stay-at-home dads are together, do they boy-bond about stuff like football? Or do they talk about their child’s development?

Do they obsess over what food their baby eats and the texture of their poops like moms do?

Do they try to color-coordinate their kids outfits like a lot of moms, or do they just get them dressed in whatever they pull out of the drawer first? And if they color-coordinate, could they ~~make my husband care~~ teach my husband how to do it?

Do they watch (and enjoy) Oprah? Are they afraid to admit it?

I have never seen a dad do the “lift-and-sniff” test for a diaper change, only moms. Do they do they ever do the lift-and-sniff test?

Four Thoughts On Getting Up Early With The Kiddo

Kira — Wed, 08 Mar 2006 00:37:30 +0000

1)If your kid stays up late, don’t count on him sleeping in to make up for it, like an adult. He will be up extra early and bouncing off the walls.
2)Early morning cuddling in bed with a three-year-old is less like cuddling, and more like getting kicked in the kidneys, while getting your hair twirled into a knot.
3)Saying go back to bed, it’s nite-nite time never works. Never. Don’t bother.
4)If a Parental Unit stays up late and needs an afternoon nap, the child is sure to not nap. In fact, the more the parent wants a nap, the less likely it is the child take a nap. It’s inversely correlated, naturally.

Bad Drycleaning

Kira — Mon, 06 Mar 2006 22:45:04 +0000

My husband always tells me, There’s no such thing as a bargain in this world. Most of the time I totally disagree with that, but there’s one thing there is absolutely no bargains with– and that is drycleaning.
Several weeks ago I took a coat and 3 wool sweaters to the cleaners. The budget was tight, so I thought it would try out the cheapo discount drycleaners on 41st Street. I picked it up several days later, and when I brought it home and opened up the bag, it all totally stunk. Reeked, even — not quite like chemicals, not quite like an old ashtray, not quite like a wet sheep, but something of a mix of the three. Nas-tay.
So, I brought the stuff back to be re-cleaned. The lady there said, Maybe it got cleaned with something that had smoke damage. So, the recleaned them. And, I went to pick them up and sniffed them and the smell was a little better, so I just figured that was the best they could do, I’d just take the stuff home.
Then, today, I pulled my coat out of the drycleaning bag and thought to myself, did I have a freakin’ cold when I picked this stuff up the second time? Because it STILL smells like crap.
Not able to find my other coat, I put it on, hoping the smell would go away and headed out to run errands. But it didn’t. I felt like a stinky old skunk that was following me everywhere. Walking all over the mall, the smell drove me crazy. And every time I turned my head, my nose was a little closer to the collar and I would think to myself, eewwwww.
In fact, it drove me to shop… for a coat. Sure, I could clean my stinky coat again at another drycleaners, but there’s no guarantee that smell would be gone. And it’s shabby. I’d bought it on ebay, was supposed to have been new… it wasn’t. Maybe my husband is right (because what do you get for $35 bucks).
So I got myself a nice, non-shabby, non-smelly coat at the Nordstrom Rack clearance section. It looks really nice and I haven’t found anything wrong with it. Yet. So maybe there is a bargain out there… for a little over 60 bucks, I didn’t get… pardon my metaphor… taken to the cleaners. But I can still smell that awful stink on me, even though I’m not wearing it anymore.
Caveat Emptor.
Anyone want a stinky black peacoat?

So Maybe T.V. Isn’t All That Bad

Kira — Mon, 06 Mar 2006 13:08:57 +0000

I always suspected this. If I had a really hyper kid, I’d want to put the T.V. on a whole lot, too. And, I hate to say it, but T.V. is really great when Mommy needs Calgon to take her away.

Endless Questions

Kira — Thu, 02 Mar 2006 16:19:51 +0000

Recently my son has been asking me more and more questions…I’ve been informed by several people that this is the”question phase”, and it gets more intense as time goes on, before it dies down.
Some of the questions I have answers for, like,

Who made the signs on the road?

(answer: people in a sign factory.) Some questions are tedious, like,

What kind of truck is that?

I make an effort to learn their names from my son’s books, but I can’t remember them all because I could care less about trucks.
Others, I don’t know what to say, like,

Mommy, can you kill me?

(although it’s clear he doesn’t know what he is talking about.)
And some, I don’t feel the answer would not be understandable or adaquate, like,

Mommy, who made the Earth?

He is definitely asking the wrong parent that question, if he wanted an answer in the form of “who”. I’m sure his more-religious-than-I-father would have a different answer than I would. All I said was “not people”, because his little three-year-old brain wasn’t up to hearing about the big bang theory. Or at least, my thirty-five year old brain isn’t up to coming up with a way to explain The Big Bang to a three year old. I guess my answer satisfied his curiousity, because he followed it up with a different question.
(I’m hoping he’ll postpone the sex questions for another year or two.)

Short Conversation With The Hubby

Kira — Thu, 02 Mar 2006 15:30:55 +0000

Hubby: Honey, you are really funny! You are sleeping with all of your clothes on — a heavy sweater, a sheet, a blanket, a quilt, and and extra quilt.

Crankymommy: Feel my feet.(I put my feet on his leg)

Hubby: Ewwwww, you’re dead!

WANTED

Kira — Wed, 01 Mar 2006 13:26:44 +0000

Another Post About Being Sick

Kira — Wed, 01 Mar 2006 13:22:31 +0000

My husband not only has an ear/sinus infection but now the recent stomach bug that we’ve all had. The guy who never misses a day of work has been lying in bed for the last two days hardly moving.
Since the first of this year I have had one sinus/ear infection and 3 other bugs. That works out for me to an average of 2 bugs a month.
I did have one period in my life where I didn’t get sick very often. It was the period of time that started after I graduated college and ending shortly after I had my son … a period of time of nearly always being well.
It appears a healthy diet, a rigorous handwashing regime and cold-eeze just aren’t doing anything.
My conclusions: 1) if it weren’t for modern medicine survival of the fittest would have gotten me, 2) Illness is caused directly by a)School and b)Children and, 3)My doctor has probably made a lot of money off me.

The Power Of Positive Thinking

Kira — Tue, 28 Feb 2006 13:03:59 +0000

It looks like I might die a little younger than some of you positive people. On the other hand, Ms. Worst-Case-Scenario will always be ready for everything, including the end of the world. I wonder if they thought of that.

Writing Suckitude, and Inspiration

Kira — Mon, 27 Feb 2006 14:06:25 +0000

My blog is boring me. In fact, I am boring me. I apologize for the general suckitude of my blog.
I have nothing to write about of any interest. A good writer can make something out of nothing — can make getting a container of mayo out of the fridge entertaining. Fellini made 8 1/2, a movie about not being able to make a movie. I ain’t no Fellini.
Of course, I used to be exciting. Where is that wild and crazy girl who lived on a purple school bus with her friends, a dog and two chickens and traveled across the country? Oh yeah, she grew up. Got married, and became a mother (I suppose it would be worse if I were really exciting and was trying to live a wild and crazy fun life at age 35. Nothing more unattractive than an aging hipster, except an aging hipster divorcee).
In the meantime, I look back and think what mommy bloggers have kept going consisitently for a really long time, without stopping (excluding technical difficulties) and I think of one of the first blogs that first inspired me to write. It was Mom With Attitude. And she’s been doing it a lot longer than her archives go back… sometime in 2002, right after my not-sleeping-through-the-night son had turned one, I came across her blog and thought to myself, I have nothing to whine about. This woman has 3 kids, each with their own unique and individual problems, some profound, and still manages to keep it together. And, she can make using over-the-counter nasal spray interesting.
So, what blog inspired you to start blogging too?

You Know You’re A Mother When…

Kira — Fri, 24 Feb 2006 23:04:11 +0000

…your son tries to put his point finger with a big green booger on it, in your nose.
The things I never imagined a kid would try to do, before I became a parent.

My Life

Kira — Thu, 23 Feb 2006 15:32:56 +0000

I’m Baaaaaack.
So what have I been up to?

I’m a little less neuroto than I was a week or two ago… things are looking a bit up for me. My husband is booked with work again. I’ve decided not to go into panic mode and get a full-time job, things are not that bad yet. I am looking for part-time work, and hope to circumvent the daycare issue. I’ve found a way to get significantly cheaper health insurance, too, so that will save us some chump change.

We celebrated my husbands 51st birthday last week, but it wasn’t much fun because he has been sick. We both had colds but his turned into the sinus and ear infection from hell (he is still quite deaf and so I think it is a good time to grumble under my breath about since he can’t hear a thing). He was so pathetic a couple of days ago, in so much pain, all he was good for was lying in bed under blankets and watching daytime TV. In fact he even watched… Oprah. You know my husband is sick when he watches Oprah.

After seeing my muse go on hiatus for a number of months, I started a drawing again. I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that for me to be productive artistically, I need to be stressed, depressed and unhappy. What a stereotype! But it is true. Sorry, I was going put up artwork on my blog and I never do, but there is a reason for that…I sort of like what I made, but like everything I make I never totally happy with it, so I rarely show it. I need to stick it away and forget about it, and then several years later I will forget I made it and pull it out and like it.

I continue to labor on the 3 volunteer “opportunities” I’ve thrown myself into, but very soon I will be cutting back, which will save my sanity.

I’ve been wasting too much time on YouTube. If you haven’t checked it out yet, you should. Unless you have dialup.

Break

Kira — Fri, 17 Feb 2006 14:29:57 +0000

In the past, whenever I’ve declared I am going to take a blogging break, it doesn’t last very long and I think, why do I bother posting about it?
Maybe it’s like going for a walk with your umbrella to make sure that it doesn’t rain?
Anyhow, I am… taking a short break. Short. The gears in my head need some oiling, and aren’t quite working right at the moment, and I’m feeling overwhelmed by life. Which is a vague explanation but it works for me.
I’m sure I will be back at it in a few days. See ya.

Changes

Kira — Tue, 14 Feb 2006 13:35:04 +0000

I don’t have much to say on my blog this week — I’d like to say something witty or funny, but my mood is really black, and my life is going through some changes. Change may be good, but I’m like a train that needs a track and I am not the most adapable sort.
I’ve been fortunate enough to be a (mostly) stay-at-home mom for over the first three years of my son’s life, and I feel very lucky for that. Economic times have changed for us recently, though, and it has become clearer to us that living off one income isn’t working for us. We are willing to do without to some extent, but doing without isn’t exactly making ends meet. Bills need to be paid.
So, I will not be a SAHM much longer. I know there isn’t anything “wrong” with good daycare (intellectually) but I really don’t want to put my son in daycare. I am hoping to get hours that I don’t have to do that… but it may not happen. I have bitched about how being a bored stay-at-home mom drives me crazy on my blog (and my old blog) but don’t let it fool you. I’m going to miss it.

A Great Way To Jinx Yourself…

Kira — Sun, 12 Feb 2006 22:13:45 +0000

…Is to say how much you are enjoying global warming. Because then, of course, you will get over a foot of snow.

Random Things

Kira — Thu, 09 Feb 2006 01:48:09 +0000

I am happy to announce I have entirely de-pinked my wardrobe. Pink is fine for flowers, but not on me. So, aside from 1 vintage shirt I never wear in the netherworld of my closet, I have no pink clothes at all. Happy day.

I got my haircut, and I am now fabulous (well, not exactly, but at least I didn’t go to Supercuts). T got a haircut too — It’s a little shorter on the sides than I would have liked (à la Hitler youth) but the longer clipper guards were broken. It will grow in, in time, and, it was pretty good for a mom haircut.

Against my better judgement, I’d like to make a political comment: I don’t know how anyone could think Reuters is so liberal after seeing this picture of Hillary Clinton.

My “search for cheaper health insurance project” has been a major pain in the ass. They don’t give Group rates to Sole Proprietorships (my husband is self-employed), and individual plans are “medically underwritten” -bad for anyone who has had more than stubbed a toe in the past. So I have to do is this: apply for medically underwritten health insurance, get rejected (which I will, for several preexisting conditions) so I can get a policy with MHIP (Maryland Health Insurance Program). My husband, who has medical exceptions for preexisting conditions on his current policy, could apply for MHIP health insurance right now, but - because my hubby is nearly 51 I am over 15 years younger, it is smarter (cheaper) for me to apply and put him on my policy, instead. It’s stupid - because all 3 of us will be on the policy either way, but it will save us about $180 bucks a month. I don’t know why it is legal to discriminate based on age and prexisting conditions but hey, this is what America wants, right?

I feel guilty about it, I know I shouldn’t, but I really am enjoying global warming this winter.

I don’t care about the Grammies, just like I didn’t care about the Superbowl. I love my little bubble.

My Quiet Kid

Kira — Tue, 07 Feb 2006 22:56:43 +0000

Today was my son’s first parent-teacher conference. I didn’t expect to hear much — after all, I was sure that he was pretty up on his milestones, and I have already talked to his teachers about how he behaves in class. We went over a checklist of skills and he seemed to be doing just fine.
The thing that cracked me up, though, was their referral to him as one of the quiet kids. HA.
“We sometimes split the kids up into groups,” one of his teachers said, “and we take the quiet ones over and work with interactive play…”
Anyone who has ever tried to talk to me on the phone when I am home with my son knows the real truth — my son, is in no way, quiet. Unless quiet now means banging, screaming, and singing loud enough to wake the dead. I mean, he does have his quiet moments, but still….
I giggled when I heard them say he is one of the “quiet observers”. I wanted to make a video, with sound, and show it to them. But then I didn’t have to.
During the conference, with me there, his “girlfriend” there, and with no other little kids to feel intimidated by — he decided to come out of his shell. He and his girlfriend were running around in circles, screaming at the top of their lungs.
“He doesn’t do that in school,” one of his teachers said. They both looked shocked.
So, he is quiet, well behaved, and “an observer” in school, and I suspect, if he stays this way, he will make a lot of teachers happy during his school career… which is, all very good. Maybe I should hope that he doesn’t come out of his shell too much, for their sakes.

Want

Kira — Tue, 07 Feb 2006 01:46:45 +0000

The other day I read a post by another stay-at-home-mom blogger, about how she feels terribly ashamed that she lives in an ugly house that is a rental, and all her friends have nice stuff. I do feel for her on some level. But in the end, stuff is just, stuff.
I’m human, I want a lot of things we don’t have, too. Although we own our home, it is a shoebox. We could use a bigger home that has a dining room and another bedroom and at least one more bathroom. I’d like to have a cell phone. Cable. TIVO. A really nice car, instead of the 7-year-old one we have with the REALLY ugly graphic on it that is supposed to make it look sporty but doesn’t. A nice new work van for my husband, instead of the dinged up one with 120,000 miles on it.
But, if we had all those things, I’d find something else to want. I’d want an Ipod and and a fancy new zillion mega pixel digital camera, a plasma TV. A redone kitchen. A landscaped backyard. To eat at fine restaurants several nights a week.
And, if I had all those things, I’d want something else. A cleaning person. Designer clothes for us to wear. A high end sound system. The latest gadgets. Luxury cars. Travel.
Want just begets want. At some point I suppose it would never be enough. There will always be The Jones that you can’t keep up with because they are wealthier. There’s always someone that has more. None of that stuff will make me happier. There is no shame in not-having, as long as you have a reasonable quality of life, your health and your family (unless you are some kind of conservative economic Darwinist that thinks wealth is a sign of sucess).
I never cease to be amazed at how materialistic people are. I don’t know if this is an American thing, or a People thing, but it just seems like desire is endless, not just for those blatant materialists but some claiming to follow alternative culture.
On some level I feel proud that we do without. There are a lot of moms who would prefer to stay-at-home, and dads who hardly see their kids, and the only reason they work is so they can have “nice things”. I’m not talking about people who really need to work to pay the bills –I’m talking about people who hate their jobs yet need a $5 latte on their way to work and a designer suit to feel like somebody. And I bet some of those people are just wanting, too… they are wanting to see their kids a little more.order phizer viagra Generic Cialis Warnings viagra patent levitra
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Frankenplaydough

Kira — Sun, 05 Feb 2006 23:48:20 +0000

To Each Their Stone

Kira — Sat, 04 Feb 2006 02:25:07 +0000

There have been a number of bands that have obsessive fans, willing to chuck out the bucks to see them over and over — DeadHeads, Phishheads, DaveMatthewsBandheads. And of course, the Stoneheads.
I in fact know several “Stoneheads” (my term, not their own description) who saw the Rolling Stones play in Baltimore two nights ago — one was a good friend, a longtime fan who has seen them multiple times and has a “lips” bumper-sticker on her car. I can’t remember how many times she’s seen them, but I think she said it was close to twenty. The other two, were moms of kids that are in my son’s preschool class. Their kids came to school wearing “Sticky Lil’ Fingers” concert T-shirts, which were kinda cute.
All three of them are in their early 40s who loved the show, and think Mick Jagger is sexy - they get all dreamy-eyed at the mention of his name, which astounds me. To me, Mick Jagger (who is the same age as my mother) was sorta okay-looking in the 60s, and he isn’t all fat, but due to age and too much fun, he’s kinda pruny looking (although Keith Richards looks worse) …. and the things he does with his lips do nothing for me.
And regarding the music - Mick Jagger and The Stones had some good material in the 60s, but what happened since then? I remember some not-so-good ones from the 80s (do you remember Ruthless People and Harlem Shuffle?) Maybe the live show was good, at $100 and up a ticket (ouch), I would expect nothing less. And I was told, (by the converted) that they sounded better than when they saw them the last time, and that M.J. still has a lot of energy.
I suspect that a good thing about seeing a large concert venue of the Stones is sitting far enough away. Unless you chuck out the big bucks to sit up close, you can fantasize about what they look like and miss all the wrinkles.

Last Night On Broadcast T.V.

Kira — Wed, 01 Feb 2006 13:22:01 +0000

ABC - Bush’s State of the Union Address.
(click)
NBC - Bush’s State of the Union Address.
(click)
CBS - Bush’s State of the Union Address.
(click)
PBS - Bush’s State of the Union Address.
(click)
FOX - Bush’s State of the Union Address.
*sigh*
I gotta get cable, or better books from the library.

Politially Incorrect Question

Kira — Tue, 31 Jan 2006 00:55:40 +0000

I’ve noticed most of the boys that T plays with (and my son as well) are absolutely obsessed with wheeled things — the girls like cars and trains too, but not with the same level of obsession. Occasionally I will know of the rare boy who is not into “things that go”, but it seems 98% of them are really, really into cars, trucks and trains.
It has been that way for T since before he was a year old (and not due to my encouragement because I find most wheeled things boring - and have you watched any of those Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs? Deadly). He said CAR and CRASH before he said Mama or Dada. And he has lots and lots of very loved, wheeled toys. Several months ago, I surrendered to the cult of the car and painted some roads and a “parking lot” (with diagonal parking) on a piece of masonite for all of T’s matchbox cars, an he and his friends love it. Also popular are the bristle blocks and the the legos (which T makes into trucks), and of course all of his wooden Thomas The Tank Engine train stuff. He does have other things that he plays with, but really the wheeled things are the most popular. Meanwhile, most of the stuffed animals get ignored in the crib until his “girlfriend” comes over and pulls them out.
Which brings me to a conversation I had on the phone last night with one of my closest friends, who happens to be gay. I asked him if he was ever was really into cars and trucks and stuff like that when he was a little boy. He told me, “not so much as I was interested in my sister’s dolls”. He thinks that at the time, that kind of thing was discouraged more than it is today, so he reallly didn’t get much chance to explore girl toys.
I don’t know if my friend is anomaly or not, but it got me a wonderin’. Not that it matters, but I am just curious. Are you a gay guy who loved/disliked cars, trucks and trains as a kid? Do you have any friends/relatives who are gay males, and know what they played with as a kid? Or, perhaps you are a straight guy who really didn’t like wheeled things very much? It’s my own very unscientific survey. Not for any good reason… I just gotta know.

What To Do When You Have Blogger’s Block

Kira — Mon, 30 Jan 2006 05:33:56 +0000

1)Post pictures of your kid, available only to registered users. Forget to make it only available to registered users. Fix it. (Done)
2)Mess around with PHP and HTML on your blog templates, even though you don’t know what you are doing, and screw them up, just slightly. (Done)
3)Take A “Blogging Vacation”, for the umpteenth time. (Nah)
4)Do A Meme! (Nah, Never!)
5)Link endless Linkedy Links.(Nah)
6)Write about your inability to write.(Done)
7)Pick a random political subject. (Not Today)
8)Apologise for crappy content. (Sorry)
8)Suspect you’ve written this post before. (Too tired to check)
9)Fake depression, illness, drama or whatever to get reader’s sympathy. (Not That Desperate)
10)Make a list. (Obviously)
11) Go to bed. (Nite Nite)

Workin’ For The Man, a.k.a. Carefirst Blue Cross Blue Shield

Kira — Fri, 27 Jan 2006 18:50:39 +0000

A few days ago, I got our health insurance bills. The bills have (of course) gone up again, — we will pay, for a family of three, (relatively) healthy people, over $750 bucks a month. That’s way more than our mortgage. And that doesn’t even include vision or dental.
Does that sound like rape to you, too? Well, last year I called an insurance broker who told me that the rate at the time that we were paying, was pretty good, and that she couldn’t really do any better for me. WTF?
Ah, the “joys” of our being self-employed.
I have friends now who who have no health insurance because they can’t afford the $1000 bucks a month. They applied for medically underwritten insurance (which would have been a little bit cheaper) and she was denied because she recently saw a chiropractor and his BMI was too high. So they better be pretty healthy until he passes the Bar and gets a job with health insurance.
Another friend of mine, who just got diagnosed with a pituitary gland tumor, is not looking forward to the interim period after graduating college. For her excellent health insurance she will have to shell out over $500 a month for her cobra, until she gets a job with health insurance.
And, to think that in 1994, when I graduated college and my COBRA (continuation of benefits for health insurance) kicked in, I was paying only $127 bucks a month. Coverage for just me, right is now $314 bucks a month. I don’t feel like calculating the percentage increase in cost over the last 12 years, but I think it is about 2 1/2 times what I was paying 12 years earlier.
And in that time, is the quality of my care 2 and a half times better? Yeaaahhhh, riiiiiight.
I can shake my fist in a lot of directions over this one - the health insurance companies of course, but even more the drug industry, the most profitable in the U.S. (do we really need another expensive prescription antacid or statin drug? Do you really need so spend so much money on ads?). And of course, I shake my fist at our federal government for not doing enough.
The Canadian national anthem is calling me….

Loving My Library

Kira — Thu, 26 Jan 2006 02:32:43 +0000

I’ve always loved the activites that the Enoch Pratt Library has for the wee ones. They have storytimes and playtimes for a variety of ages. We still go to them, when my son doesn’t have school or activities.
My new recent activity is to take advantage of the Enoch Pratt Library’s website putting books on reserve. When the books are ready to be picked up, I get a friendly, non-automated phone call from my librarian, telling me that my book is waiting for me at my local branch. And, unlike the county library, putting books on reserve for delivery to the branch of your choice is entirely free.
One thing I’m really desiring though (and probably because I am a dork) is that I’d really love to see a RSS feed for my checked out books, so I could put it my blog. I emailed the Pratt and suggested it, and was told that it might be possible in the future, but it would take some development (and demonstrated interest). So, if you are a local blogger (and as much of a spazz as I am) and would like the world to know you have Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel (or something more grown-up) checked out, you might email the Enoch Pratt and let them know what you think.

Positive Thinking On (The Lack Of) Potty Training

Kira — Tue, 24 Jan 2006 02:19:56 +0000

I can say that I am not embarrassed about the fact that my son isn’t potty trained.
In fact, I recently discovered that in my son’s preschool class, only 1, or maybe 2 of the 12 kids are potty trained. Although, that might say more about the preschool I picked, since they don’t require it, and it is the “crunchy granola” preschool. Also, his class is mostly boys, and I hear that boys are harder to potty train.
He does pee on the potty very sporadically. But at 3 years and 3 months, he has yet to poop on the potty. Despite bribes of pie and cupcakes. I think he is an Eat To Live kind of person rather than a Live To Eat type, so that is probably it.
I’ve been told to wait until he is ready. Have him pee standing up. Have him pee sitting down. Just go bare bottom for a few days. Go right to padded underwear and not go back. Star stickers. Chocolate chips. Whadeva.
I do get major applause from him when I go. Even in the bathroom stall at Target. Yay! Mommy knows how to pee in the potty! Yay! Mommy can get chocolate chips for that!!! Isn’t that great, now everyone at Target knows, too!
I’m not asking anybody for any more advice. I’ve already gotten a ton of advice which is all contradictory. If I was really motivated to train my son I would check out books on it from the library — not that those are going to help, either.
Instead, to turn over a new leaf, I will look at the positive side of having a child that isn’t potty-trained. Really, changing diapers isn’t that bad. Hey, he changes some of them himself. I’ve heard a little about how boys do sword fights and I hear they are messy. I won’t worry, for the time being, about pee dripping through the floor and onto my precious Imac because of a little accident. And, I won’t be sweating it next time we go to a park and there’s no place to poop. I say, HA! to you parents driving around looking for a dirty McDonalds bathroom for your kids to go in… isn’t potty-training great?

Vacation?

Kira — Sun, 22 Jan 2006 02:35:33 +0000

One of my dear “mommy friends” is going on a trip next week, the mother to my son’s two year old “girlfriend”, a.k.a. Feral Sausage, and her 5 year old sister, a.k.a. Sausage. This will be quite an adjustment for me.
It means: 2 weeks without 3 ~~home invaders~~ unexpected drop-in visitors seeking ~~chocolates and cookies~~ playdates. Two whole weeks without juicy gossip, and without stuffed animals wearing my (uh oh) grandmother’s jewelry. Two weeks without multiple keyboards playing simultaneous demos of Jingle Bells. My son will have no one to ram toy shopping carts with, without his beloved Feral Sausage. My hair will be pulled and twirled by one less kid. Feral Sausage will have no one to hit with branches, and my son will have no one to try to flirt with (by throwing toys).
What the hell I am going to do for entertainment the next two weeks, I have no idea.

While I Surf, He Serves

Kira — Tue, 17 Jan 2006 23:44:51 +0000

A culinary genius (of plastic food).

MILK Is A Four Letter Word

Kira — Tue, 17 Jan 2006 03:58:23 +0000

Grocery shopping, for me, is a real pain in the ass.
Like this past weekend when I went to the Trader Joe’s out in Pikesville. I was hoping to find some goodies for T that were dairy-free and weren’t processed on equipment shared with dairy. I’d just bought some nuts from Whole Foods, and T couldn’t eat them because they’d been processed on shared equipment. He probably wouldn’t have a anaphylactic reaction from shared equipment, but continued reexposure won’t help his allergies go away.
Turns out that Trader Joe’s, like every other grocery store I’ve been to, makes everything with dairy, or is processed on shared equipment. I spent an hour there trying to read the teeny-weeny print on labels and found a couple varieties of nuts, and 1 package of bland “cookie” that he didn’t like that much. 90% of what is in the all the stores is off limits for T. You’d be surprised what has milk in it - not just cookies and cakes but bread, crackers, tofu dogs, candy, margerine, granola bars, you name it. Why the hell that has to be, I don’t know. I’m sure some of these “shared equipment” warnings are just lawsuit-avoiders but you never know. I am not taking any chances since his last reaction.
And as T gets older he is more aware of everything he can’t have and I just feel bad for him. Over the holidays we went out for Chinese, and at the end of the meal, without asking, everyone was brought out little cups of ice cream with a fortune cookie on it. Of course the ice cream had milk in it, but so did the fortune cookie. The look on his face was so sad, his little lip started to pucker and quiver and his eyes were welling up, and they didn’t have any other dessert. So, the waitress brought out 4 marachino cherries in a cup, and he really liked those so he wasn’t upset any more.
That fixed the problem because he is three, but in a couple of years I’m sure marachino cherries won’t do. And as he gets older he will go to other kids houses whose parents, possibly, won’t read labels very well, or he will be and getting food from kids at school, perhaps against my best warnings (he better not!). Or, some family member, even myself, could miss something and make a careless mistake and end up like this family. I don’t think T is quite as sensitive as that girl, but we really don’t know. I will be crossing my fingers that nothing bad happens before he outgrows it, assuming he outgrows it, and that I won’t be getting any scary phonecalls or running for the Benedryl and the Epipen.

Get Your Zoology Straight

Kira — Mon, 16 Jan 2006 02:05:18 +0000

We went to the Baltimore Aquarium yesterday. It was pretty enjoyable for a kid-centered activity, although a bit pricey (around 59 bucks for 2 adults and one 3-year-old, not including 2 hours of parking costing $12). It was also very crowded, but it would have been better having gone on a weekday.
T loved it. He was so excited, he got over his fear of crowds quickly and kept running up to the tanks and yelling quite loudly, “Yook! (look) it’s a Starfish”!
“Yook! Its a shark!”
“Yook! It’s a Nemo fish!”
I kept telling him, “No T, that isn’t a Nemo fish, Nemo is the name of a fish in the movie. It’s a clownfish.” And he would say, “Yeah, a clownfish”.
But a few seconds later he’d see another tank with a clownfish again and would say “Yook, another Nemo fish!”
In fact, every kid at the aquarium, from the little one-year-olds to the 12-year-olds, was going up to the tank and saying “Look, Nemo!” And their parents were also saying, “Yes, that’s a Nemo!” I wonder if some of these parents call dolphins “fishes”.
And this is where I get annoyed. I know I’m being a bit picky and uptight here, I know that. But it is not a Nemo, it is a clownfish.
Oh well.
I guess I should just accept that it is no longer a clownfish and blame Disney for it. One stupid kid film is responsible for the miseducation of a generation of children.

Piles Problem

Kira — Sun, 15 Jan 2006 01:31:53 +0000

I hate to admit it but I have a problem with piles.
And no you sicko with a dirty mind, I am not talking about hemorrhoids, I’m talking about piles of paperwork and stuff that needs to be put away.

Right now I’m at record high for piles… A total of 5. Here’s Pile #1…

I bought the stacking pile thingy to solve my pile problem originally. Unfortunately , piles propagate like bunnies and the file thingy overfloweth.

This pile on our dining table seems to ebb and flow like the tide. I almost killed that one.

One of these piles was stuffed under here when I needed to entertain at our dining table. Of course after the guests left, pile #3 returned as pile #2. Pile #4 in the box is the oldest pile, and I usually leave that one alone and pretend like it isn’t there. If there is something that I can’t find in the house, that is the last pile to be searched.

This is my upstairs pile which exists because I am too lazy to bring things down to my downstairs pile.

As you can see, blogging about being disorganized is much more fun than actually getting organized.

How To Have An Early Mid-life Crisis Without Looking Stupid

Kira — Sat, 14 Jan 2006 01:24:23 +0000

How can a mid-thirties woman avoid figuring out what she should be doing with her life and procrastinate that decision indefinitely, while looking like she has her sh*t together?
By volunteering, that’s how.
I am currently doing volunteer work for 3 community organizations. And I’ve recently realized, it’s not just philathropy that motivates me.
I have come to understand that it a great way for me to not look like an unfocused fool, while still being clueless about my life’s direction. My creative muse might be on vacation, but I’m busy. My time is occupied, and I don’t look like a slacker. I’m not fulfilled or paid, but I’m useful! And, I get stuff done!
In case you are in a similiar situation and equally aimless and confused, remember this one — if you throw yourself into volunteer work, no one can accuse me of being lazy.
In related news, someone is sending me the number of a career councelor.

Ready to Put This Day To Bed

Kira — Fri, 13 Jan 2006 03:35:14 +0000

My day started at 4:30 A.M. with my son coughing and coming in our room and waking us up. None of us really got back to sleep. Despite that, he went to school for a few hours before we headed to Annapolis for my friend Carolyn’s memorial service. It was as nice as it could possibly be, under the circumstances, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. There were many pictures of her and some of her art photography. I was most happy to see that she had numerous friends and family there.

My son was a perfect gentleman the whole time, from the ride there to the ride back, and especially at the service. This despite not sleeping well and having the remnants of a cold. As time goes on, and I see him next to more boys his age, I wonder if my assessment of his behavior has been a bit harsh, and if at times I have expected too much. One of his teachers recently referred to him as one of the “quiet” kids in the class and I thought to myself, if ony they could see him at home! But really, he is very good when we go out with him most of the time, and I was so proud of him today.

Thankfully for him, didn’t know her very well at all, and is too little to understand what is going on. I tried to explain to him in the simplest possible terms what happened and he told me, “Yes, Carolyn is gone”. I have no clue what that meant to him, but I’m sure he doesn’t get it. But then again you don’t want a kid to “get it” too much at that age.

Hi, and By the Way, You Need To Work On Metaphors

Kira — Wed, 11 Jan 2006 03:07:56 +0000

When I was in art school, we used to do these things called “crits” (criticisms).
On the day of class, each person would bring in a finished piece or a work in progress and present it for criticism — hang it, pin it to the wall, or uncover it if it was sculpture, etc.
The student presenting the work might say a little about it, a lot of staring would go on, and then the teacher and the students would start talking about it. This might go on for a half hour — discussing the merit of a work of art someone put a lot of hours and time and thought into. Or, didn’t, and the artist just talking a lot of bullshit and trying to get through the class.
Sometimes the crits were pretty intense. A lot of egos got crushed. A work of art would be shot down and (figuratively) torn to pieces, and an extremely sensitive person might leave the room crying. Or, the work’s creator would argue back at everyone trying to convince them that yes, their piece of art communicated what was intended, it worked visually, that everyone there was full of it and didn’t know what they were talking about and it was brilliant.
I did my reaming out on occasion, but only if it was truly merited (someone trying to b.s. their way through a crit) and the girl born with her foot in her mouth was usually suprisingly tactful. I did receive a good bit of “constructive” criticism too. Frequently the negative feedback was the most useful, which I believe made me a better artist. Not a great artist, since I’m dissatisfied with my art enough never to feel it is done or finished enough to show, but I have a good eye and I know when a piece of art ‘works’ visually, whether I like it or not.
Which brings me to the subject of criticism and blogging.
Blogging and commenting doesn’t exactly work like a crit. Blogs are written quickly, usually, and don’t involve a ton of effort. What seems to go on with blog commenting is — drooling adoration and worship, or, flaming and spite, or, clever little quips left by readers. All of which is good and fine, but not useful. Commenting is generally not a great place to receive criticism to improve your writing. The more popular one is (as a blog), the more skewed ones view of one’s own writing could possibly become. In the worst extreme, I would imagine a popular blogger could develop a kind of Michael Jackson Syndrome, with legions of adoring fans, yet totally out of touch with reality. Can you imagine that some of these people who get 300 comments a day would never know that their writing quality has dropped off, and is appealing to the common denominator — that they are the McDonalds or Brittany Spears of writing? (Hey, even Susanne Somers has made it on the best seller list many times.)
Today by reading blogs I learned it was “delurking week”, where readers who never leave comments finally leave comments and say, Hi there! I’m a reader. I can’t say I’m exactly against “delurking week” since it’s a great boost to your ego (and we all need that) and a way to network socially. But it leaves me longing for something more like “constructive criticism week”. I could take it, I’m weathered. And, if it didn’t improve my writing, it might at least open my Johari Window.
I know what my mother, the editor, would say if this were “Constructive Criticism Week”. She would tell me to run a spellcheck.

Object Rememberances

Kira — Tue, 10 Jan 2006 15:28:26 +0000

It’s funny what few objects I have to remember a friend I was once close with. Even if we had been close recently, I don’t think I would have a lot of objects to remember her by.
I can count exactly three. 1), The one picture I have of her, from my wedding. 2) A number of years ago, when my husband was studying German more actively, she gave us a cassette tape of Haar, the musical. That’s right, the German verison of the musical Hair (I can still hear Carolyn’s voice in my head singing “Mein Haaaaaaaaaar!”) 3)An old ring my mother picked up from a yardsale she had.
Makes me want to take lots more snapshots of everyone I know, even the camera shy ones. Just in case.

Good-Bye, Carolyn

Kira — Mon, 09 Jan 2006 05:26:33 +0000

Carolyn Sprague, 1964 - 2006.

Click here for information on the memorial service.

Mommy Blog Popular Topics

Kira — Sun, 08 Jan 2006 03:46:49 +0000

You know I love making lists:
After skimming through my old blog archives and thinking about some recent readings, here are some common post “subjects” (with sarcastic overtones, by me) that Mommy Bloggers seem to love. If you are going to take these personally, remember I have indulged in way more than my fair share of them:
1)Thousands and thousands of of pictures of babies, especially newborns that are too young to look all that different from any other baby
2)See what an excellent mother I am, don’t you wish you were me
3)What the hell has happened to my body
4)Diet failures
5)Childbirth Misadventures
6)Breastfeeding misadventures
7)The breastfeeding nazis vs. the bottle pushers (usually with readers flaming each other in their comments, depending on the viewpoint)
8)The working mother vs. the stay-at-home mom
9)My horrible mother, father, or inlaws, how awful they are
10)Look at that horrible awful mother in the media, for shame, she should be in jail
11)Look how amazingly smart my child is, you should all be jealous, he will be going to Yale he’s so bright
12)How much my baby is eating and growing, look how big
13)Oh so many developmental milestones you could shoot yourself
14)I’m so tired, my kid(s)won’t let me sleep (probably my biggest guilty pleasure)
15)Shopping misadventures
16)My children are driving me nuts and I want to choke them
17)Mommy-Book Reviews
18)My kid has a cold, feel sorry for me, feel sorry for him/her
19)Daddy isn’t as good at being mommy as Mommy is and screwed something up royally.
20)Gross something-or-other my kid did or said
21)Last but definitely not least: Memes, Memes, way too many Memes!
I know I am missing a few.

Oops, Missed It, Again

Kira — Fri, 06 Jan 2006 04:31:58 +0000

After writing that last post, I checked to see when I first started my old blogspot blog. It was December 18, 2003, when my son was a little over a year old. I totally forgot my “blogiversary” or whatever you want to call it. I think I did last year, too, although I can’t remember. So I have been ~~doing this amazing writing~~ pleasantly wasting time blogging for two years now. I’ve never kept a diary or journal for more than a week.
Happy belated blogiversary to me.

What’s In A Name?

Kira — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 03:42:28 +0000

Over 2 years ago, I chose Cranky Mommy as my title because Crankymom was taken as a blogspot blog, and as a domain name. So, I went for my second pick.
As it is, the title of my old blogspot blog was pretty dumb: Cranky Mommy’s Rant Site. Sometimes you pick something spontaneously and it sounds catchy, funny and ironic for a little while, and over time it gets annoying. It was really my second choice, but also I am just tired of it. That’s how I feel about it right now.
But, like my real name (especially my unpronounceable last name), I have grown to own it just because it is so ornery. I did decide for my move to Wordpress that I would just shorten it to Crankymommy. Who knows, I might not be in the mood for ranting in a few years. Ha.
If you are a “Mommy Blogger” the title of your blog frequently uses some form of the word “Mom” in it. Mom is the most common… like: Very Mom. Busy Mom. Mom With Attitude. Mom is generic. The alternative lifestyle, or “hipster” moms frequently use Mama. Radical Mama and Vegetarian Mama has more of a ring to it than Vegetarian Mom or Radical Mom, does it not? Sounds more earthy. Mother seems too formal for a blog, and I almost never see that one… it sounds like something you’d hear a dying child say in a 19th century novel (”Mother, I am gravely ill”.) Mummy or Mum sounds British and I have seen that on occasion, but always by non-Americans.
Mommy is more nebulous-sounding. I think it sounds like the mother of a young child. Or, maybe someone who doesn’t take their title too seriously. It’s what my son calls me, but at some point when he gets older I’m sure he will switch to good old generic Mom. I figure it will come at the point when he starts being embarrassed to be needing me too much. Maybe when his voice is just beginning to lower, but maybe sooner.
I also associate Mommy with a psycho. Although, I think that is because we watched part of Mommy Dearest on cable while were on vacation.

I Cleaned! How Exciting.

Kira — Wed, 04 Jan 2006 05:06:09 +0000

We came home from our vacation on New Years Eve to find the house bombarded by CRAP.
It looked like a bomb hit it. From family and friends xmas eve. From opening presents an hour before the airport shuttle came the next morning. Everything from wrapping paper to toys to dust bunnies, everywhere.
I think the mess finally sent me over the edge. I cleaned from the time we got home from our trip, until 2 minutes before midnight when I went upstairs to kiss my husband and wish him a Happy New Year. I almost put him in cardiac arrest from the shock of my cleaning. This, from the woman whose dirty laundry entirely hid the floor from view before she got married? I put myself in shock from the cleaning, too.
So, all of you people who had parties and drinks and fun on New Years Eve good for you. I have a (relatively) clean house out of my New Year’s Eve. I don’t think the clean will last much longer than your holiday buzz, or that my cleaning urge will last longer either. Although, I do still have the desire to clean my entire kitchen floor with a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.

Airtran: Not On My Good List

Kira — Wed, 04 Jan 2006 02:56:06 +0000

Airtran was less than stellar on our flight home. Do they really have to board us and make us sit in the plane over an hour, if they know that it will take over an hour for passengers from a connecting flight to get there?
And, if you ever fly Airtran, take note: check in online exactly 24 hours before your flight takes off.
Otherwise you will have crappy seats. With no windows (this especially sucks when flying with a kid). That don’t recline. Right in front of the amazingly stinky bathroom that was so gross that the brother 5 seats from the rear was saying right before takeoff, “Do we have to smell that the whole flight?”It was so bad that I, who is not very squeamish, could not use it.
And some advice: if you are a lady, don’t attempt to hover over the seat in an airplane bathroom. Turbulance will getchya in the end, and everyone else will be cleaning up your mess.
And people with kids - if your kids go in the bathroom, check to make sure they took aim! Geez.
Oh, and (duh, lady) don’t put a water bottle in the overhead bins. Or you will have some very annoyed passengers with wet coats and bags giving you dirty looks at baggage claim.

Thank You For Telling Me…

Kira — Mon, 02 Jan 2006 02:56:59 +0000

…drunk 19-year-old… for telling the whole street at the top of your lungs at 4 in the morning, that you have only been f****ed once. We all needed to know that.

If you think I’m Odd, See What My Friends Do To Show Their Love

Kira — Sun, 01 Jan 2006 04:55:07 +0000

This is what one of my dear friends did to my yard Xmas Eve (unbeknownst to me).
(click to enlarge the top image)

Quick Post-Xmas Post

Kira — Thu, 29 Dec 2005 05:00:52 +0000

I’m writing here on a PC using dial-up…what a different world. I miss my own computer already. I had to download Firefox because I was unable to post with Internet Explorer. Anyhow, here’s a few tidbits on my life until I am blogging from home:

After 3 xmas dinners and many xmas get togethers I can happily say, Ha-lay-lew-ya xmas is over. Time for the roomy pants.

I have one very overstimulated kid from all the holiday action, sweets and presents. Mr. Party has been bouncing off the walls, from all the visits with relatives, food and gifts. He has even been “wrapping” his own toys and putting “bows” on them and giving them for me to open. Can you say, a little obsessed? I can kinda blame myself though. Everyone went way overboard with stuff for the kid including myself, I’m ashamed to say. Pretty funny for a very secular non-christian, but I suspect I fell under the spell of some massive shopping brainwashing hysteria that I have since recovered from.

My 87 year old Grandmother, who I call Omi, tried to bring home a “bum” on xmas day (in the words of the receptionist who works in my grandmother’s building). I don’t know what he wanted with her, he didn’t take the 40 bucks on her but refused to leave the building when the receptionist threatened to call the police. At least she isn’t calling the psychic hotline this time and running up the bills. Several weeks earlier she went for a walk to try to find something to eat and got lost. She ended up in a Starbucks where she complained to the management about the plastic spoons and, in typical Omi style (before she was senile, even!), demanded real silverware. Thankfully someone from her building directed her back home. Although a recent illness has made her already cloudy thinking cloudier, the writing is on the wall and she will be going into assisted living most likely VERY soon.

ipads SUCKS

Kira — Thu, 22 Dec 2005 13:43:13 +0000

What idiotic business would have their presses break down in NOVEMBER, not let you know when you place your order Dec 4 that it could be delayed, not let you know that your order wouldn’t arrive by Christmas - until the 22nd, not have a customer service line to bitch to, and not answer the email you sent to them?
ipads, that’s who.
(recommendation - don’t shop there!)

To Think, We Could Have Lived There

Kira — Thu, 22 Dec 2005 01:18:33 +0000

Tonight, I took T over to see the Xmas Lights and hullaballoo over on 34th Street. Really, you’ve got to see it to believe it. He loved it. I mean, loooooooved it. It was freezing out but he didn’t seem to care, he was just staring in awe at the choo-choo trains and moving dolls and displays and all the lights, and of course now he won’t shut up about it. It’s fun to take little kids to stuff like that and watch their faces light up and grin and stare in delight. However it’s pretty old for me, because I actually used to live on 34th street, on that very block.
Yes, from about 1995 to 1998 we actually lived in the middle (actually, towards the end, that was less decorated) of all the xmas hell. We rented the 3 story, bedroom 1 bath rowhouse for $650 a month - how times have changed. The xmas thing wasn’t as big back then, but it was still big.
Getting parking was a huge mess. The neighbors blasted xmas music until late at night. This half-jew was positively sick of Christmas by the end of the season. Actually, though, Christmastime was not the worst of it. The worst of it was probably Halloween… it’s not just a Christmas street, it’s an every-holiday-under-the-sun street. Everyone and their uncle drives to 34th street to trick-or-treat there, and I remember one year we went through 6 bags of candy before 7 p.m. and when we ran out, we turned off all the lights, went up stairs and hid and pretended we weren’t home.
In 1998 After we got married, we started looking for a home to buy and we could have made an offer on that house on that block, but we knew it was too much xmas. Too much everything! I wonder what T would have thought of all those xmas lights if he’d grown up on that street and seen that stuff every day when we left the house for a few months each winter.

Regarding Our Xmas Tree

Kira — Tue, 20 Dec 2005 21:53:20 +0000

Regarding Our Very Puny Xmas Tree:

I know some prefer their uh… uhm, trees, large and artificial. I however, prefer my trees small and natural.

I figured why kill a tree for a religous holiday? So this one will get planted outside assuming it survives Xmas.

It’s a very tight fit over here — take a look at this from my old blog to get an idea.

I am “technically” Jewish (at least that is what I tell the Jehovah’s Witnesses when they knock on my door and want to give me stuff and talk), pretty much a non-believer in anything, so having a tree at all is pretty much a whim.

The star was cut out of balsa and painted by my son. It was good project for a cold afternoon.

Our Little Charlie Brown Xmas Tree

Kira — Mon, 19 Dec 2005 01:35:33 +0000

When your house is under 600 square feet, everything gets minaturized.

Our Lady Of Perpetual Illness

Kira — Fri, 16 Dec 2005 14:18:25 +0000

That is the new title I have decided to give myself. I called up my doctor to see if, perchance, I don’t have a virus and I am actually dying of some dread bacterial secondary infection. He said, “Sounds viral” so basically I am condemned to get no antibiotics from him. So, if I am still coughing up a lung and on death’s door on Monday he will fix me up good but hopefully then I will be in tip-top shape.

I am debating the cause of my constantly being sick. I have several theories: 1)I’m not really sick that much, I just whine about it more than other people. Well that one I’m throwing in the trash heap because everyone tells me how bad I look right now. You should see my beaming red eyes. 2) It’s from having a kid. Yes this theory makes a lot more sense, since wasn’t sick much from the time I graduated college until the time I had my son. That theory works for me.3)I rub my eyes, touch my face and pick my nose too much. That theory is very plausible but I refuse to publicly admit I pick my nose too much.4) My friend brings her disease-ridden child, who I will call typhoid-kid, over to my house whom loves to touch me and hug me. I suspect typhoid-kid is a factor, but she is the only one who will come ’round when I am ill. And she is too much fun to miss.5)I am just not designed, in a Darwinian sense, for this earth. That is the most plausible theory, and I thank my lucky stars for modern medicine or I would have been picked off a long time ago.

Oh joy of joys, my husband made me watch Mel Gibson’s The Passion. Can I state the many reasons I didn’t like the film? Most of the acting wasn’t too bad, although it did have it’s Ben Hur moments of bad overacting. But the ridiculous number of villianish laughs that are like “naaaa haa haa haa ” that last for hours could definitely be cut out of some shots. And, I’m just not into watching several hours of torture. If it were any subject other than the death of Christ, it would be an S and M film that was rated X. If you want to watch this film bring your barf bag along for all the blood and gore. I’ve seen autopy films that are more gentle. Also, the film doesn’t portray the Jewish people in a very nice light. Not that the Romans look that great either, but Pontius Pilate looks better than them. In light of some of the things I’ve heard Mel Gibson say, that doesn’t surprise me. Another thing that bugs me is, there are also some really stupidly repetitive camera shots. Do we really need to see the scourging whips fly down on Jesus’s back in slow motion for the zillionth time? In fact, who needs to see a whipping in slow motion anyhow? And too much jiggly camera work to simulate the feeling of an angry crowd. that was cheesy. Anyhow, by now you got the point, I don’t like the film.

On a lighter and non-sequitar note, we have almost all of our chistmas shopping done. And, since I never made it to the mall last week, I can say that I have done it without hitting the mall. Yet. I am dreading it because I hate trying to get in and out of the mall and dealing with the crowds and parking. Who the hell designed the parking structure at Towson Town Center should be hung by their toes because it is such a pain to get in and out of. So, if I am lucky this weekend I can avoid the mall. If not, give me strength and I will drag my phlemy self out there.

If You Fall Off A Horse, Stay Off The Damn Horse

Kira — Tue, 13 Dec 2005 20:20:05 +0000

No offense to you people in Arkansas, but what’s in the water over there? This woman is nuts.

Check the last line of the article:

Richardson said her due date is June 25. She plans to make her next parachute jump in August.

I think her surgeon forgot to tighten a few screws.

Don’t I Sound Beautiful

Kira — Mon, 12 Dec 2005 14:24:00 +0000

Last night the room was spinning, I had vertigo. This morning my voice still sounds like one of Marge Simpson’s sisters. My lips are dry and splitting and my left eye is all bloodshot and was crusted shut this morning when I woke up. And the green and bloody mucus is a - flyin.
Since I don’t have a fever we are off to the mall. Watch out for the woman with the swollen neck glands and the red eye though, ’cause she is in a foul mood.

I Hate Winter

Kira — Sat, 10 Dec 2005 00:55:50 +0000

By observing me, you would not be able to tell I grew up in southern California. I don’t have a southern California accent anymore, I don’t have a tan or blonde hair or a nose job or fake boobs. But one part remains southern Californian to the core and that is the part that is sitting and shivering here typing this post.
I am not designed for cold weather. I tell my friends I am “thermostatically challenged” but that really doesn’t describe how cold I am all the time. I spend the winter soaking my feet and hands periodically each day to keep warm. I wear fingerless gloves around the house, which are great for typing. I wear long johns, wool socks, etc. when I go out in the weather, but truly no amount of cold weather gear would ever keep me happy. And it is even worse when I have another fresh new cold like I have now. *sniff*
Screw “seasonal beauty” and all that crap. The snow on the ground here looks pretty for a couple of days, and then looks like iced dirtballs. I’d trade it all for fingers that worked well in the wintertime.
So all you winter lovers in the mid-atlantic region, enjoy our first sizeable, although still wimpy little snowfall, and subsequent ones. Go out and make slushy dirty snowballs and snowmen. Enjoy winter on my behalf. I might make one obligatory snowman with the kid. After that, I’ll send dad out and stay inside and make the cocoa and count off, day by day, the next 4 months.

X at Sonar

Kira — Thu, 08 Dec 2005 02:23:00 +0000

The thing that is great about seeing has-been bands, is that you can see them in a small venue, and you aren’t watching dots playing music on a stage from a mile away. There are a few bands I never got to see back in “the day”, one of them being X and so both my husband and I (and friend) were very happy to see them last night at Sonar in Baltimore. This was our 3rd time we’d seen a live music act in maybe 4 years (all this year); we saw the Knitters, an X side project, several months ago and had a great time.
The Knitters show was a pretty laid back affair, in a somewhat more upscale place — Sonar is grittier, for grittier music. My hubby, who is pretty diehard musically-speaking, wanted to get to the club as soon as the doors opened, so that we could get a good spot. So, (a hour and a half!) before the opening act came on, we stood right in front of the stage, dead center, and marked our territory. Both of us are more than a bit too old for this thing (me 35, my husband -50, my friend, 43) but we were psyched up for it. You have to be psyched up to be over the age of 25 and stand for 4 hours in the same spot with all of humanity around you.
And the humanity around us was quite a variety. There was a large age range to the audience, although my husband was probably the only gray haired guy who wasn’t avoiding the crush at the front. To our left, a group of 6 high-school guys circled a high-school girl like worker bees circling a queen bee, all of the trying to get her attention. Juliana Hatfield, the opening act, looked at one of them and asked him how old he was. To our right, a lesbian couple, two stone-faced 40+something punk rock women. And, to my immediate right, luck me: the intoxicated 30-something guy with missing teeth and sweat-soaked long hair that kept landing all over me and soaking my sweater, each time he slammed into me.
It was very much worth getting that guy’s sweat all over me. Although Juliana Hatfield, who I was never a fan of, was more than competent, X blew her out of the water. We really had the best spot in the place, and they were absolutely amazing. After 25 or so years they still seem enthusiastic, and they played their songs off their earlier, better albums. Exene is not a hottie anymore but she still has so much charisma, and doesn’t even seem to care. Even though they are divorced she and John Doe still have great energy together. Everyone in the band was merely feet away, and sounded like the years hadn’t passed, until you opened your eyes and looked at the wrinkles. If you stared and Billy Zoom and he caught you staring he’d wink and smile at you… I guess even as a born-again Christian minister, he hasn’t lost his sense of humor. It was very cool seeing the original lineup, and I got to shake Billy Zoom and D.J. Bonebrake’s hands (giggle).
My husband said he’d go out and see the same show again tonight. I would say so too, but I need a few days to recover. I am no longer designed to stay up until 2 when my son gets up before 8. I am hoarse from all the smoke, and most of today my ears were still ringing and I was talking to loud.

Does He Need A Diaper Change?

Kira — Mon, 05 Dec 2005 02:33:34 +0000

Maybe it’s the many years of smelling housepaint fumes. Maybe it’s all those years of smoking 2 1/2 packs a day. Maybe it’s because he isn’t a mom. Maybe it’s genetics.
I don’t know what the cause is, but I never cease to be amazed how I can smell that nasty dirty diaper upstairs while my husband is downstairs with the kid, totally oblivious.

This Week So Far

Kira — Fri, 02 Dec 2005 02:48:28 +0000

I’ve done a good bit more this week than I have the last two. It kind of makes up for growing a second rear-end while we were all sick.
Monday — Went to the zoning committee meeting for the Hampden Community Council, and also the HCC meeting. I failed to mention that I am now a member of HCC zoning committee, but I cannot blog all the juicy details about it since I have to be a good girl. I have been sworn to secrecy by the head of the zoning committee (who reads my blog).
Tuesday — I babysat the two-year-old child of a friend who is moving (or I should say, moved) to Germany (Sniff, Sniff). I’ll call him “A”. Boy is he easy. “A” plays very different than my son. None of that bash and crash and distruction stuff that T and many boys get so much joy out of. He chides me for accidentally leaning on his matchbox cars, and doesn’t want me to use toys in any “unusual” ways.
I suspect if I babysat “A” more often, I would be a… well, not a bad influence on him, but definitely bring out what little wildness he has in him. His parents are major intellectuals and listen to nothing louder than Enya. But in the short few hours I babysat him I taught him how to shake his bowl haircut and say “Oooooooh” like the Beatles in She Loves You. And, I played some rock-and-roll in my car and had him singing a long. It is very funny to hear a two-year-old singing Squeeze’s Pulling Mussels from a Shell.
Wednesday - went to my non-for-profit international playgroup And watched T and his “girlfriend” chase each other around. She didn’t beat him up too much. Although T and I did have to have a “talk” about how kicking is not a good way to make friends and influence people, or flirt with your “girlfriend”. Of course his girlfriend has competition — her 5 year old sister. Nothing like an older woman. T’s girlfriend, her sister, and mum came over for a playdate and did some damage to our chocolates and cookies, as usual. They will keep me from becoming obese.
Thursday- Nothing like freezing your ass off in 40 degree weather, painting a dormer window while on a 40-foot ladder. When you are out of shape. Today I helped my husband on his last outside job that has run way past schedule. Thankfully my husband is solidly booked into next spring. I am hoping the weather will cooperate and we can get this job done before it goes from bitter cold to impossible.
Tomorrow - I will be footing the ladder and trying to keep warm.

Oops, Wrong Expression

Kira — Wed, 30 Nov 2005 19:43:00 +0000

My slightly eccentric yet incredibly talented (she told me to add that) mommy friend and new blogger (go check her out) has just informed me that the title of one of my recent posts,”One More Notch on the Bedpost” refers to how may people you slept with, not how old you are. Or maybe it is a British thing?

Birthday Picture

Kira — Tue, 29 Nov 2005 04:30:16 +0000

I took a picture of the 3 of us and posted it on my sidebar (It will be one of the few public pictures I will post, as most will be viewable only to registered viewers). It is one of the rare moments that we are all “dressed up”, as we took it before heading out to my birthday dinner with my mother in law. I have a bunch of “dress up” clothes but I have very few occasions to actually wear them.
I even put on a teeny bit of make-up — a little lipstick and mascara. It had been so long since I’d used mascara that it was was all crusty and dried up. And, I couldn’t get my “lip liner” pencil to work. I figured out why, when my husband asked me why the red Prismacolor colored pencil was in the bathroom. I’m lucky, Prismacolor pencils are non-toxic (I think)!
And, now that I look at that picture, I think I trimmed my bangs a bit too short. I was thinking Betty Page but I’m thinking on me it looks more like, once again, Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber… although this time it’s not my son with the haircut and I can’t blame my husband for it. Oh well, they will grow in fast.

One More Notch On The Bedpost

Kira — Sun, 27 Nov 2005 20:27:20 +0000

We had an uneventful Thanksgiving. It was just the three of us since the boy was sick and I didn’t want to get any of my friends or my 83 -year-old mother in law sick with a 102 fever. I did make a vegan pumpkin pie again. It’s a pretty decent recipe if anyone wants it. I’m sure it would have been better with whipped cream on it, but I have a “Whipped Cream Problem”. I have a thing for whipped cream which is why I don’t buy it because I don’t have any self control and I will just spray a whole canful onto a spoon and eat it until I get a stomach ache. My husband says I am scary around whipped cream.

At least we are all in good health now. Although, the last few days T is driving me absolutely up the wall. I suspect it is cabin fever from being sick but Mr. Hyde needs to go on vacation again. And, after me being sick and him being sick and the weather being bad, being cooped up in the house with him makes me feel a bit… well… Charlotte Perkins Gilman in The Yellow Wallpaper if you’ve ever read that. If you haven’t, the gist of it is, I’m basically going nuts.

Today is my birthday — I’m 35. It’s not a very exciting birthday like 21 or 30 or 40 but there is one thing to it — I am no longer in that “targeted age bracket” of 18-34 that marketers of junk are so hoping to market to. That is the only particular feature of turning 35, other than being a day older. I am using the lovely computer my parents gave me for my birthday, and I got some nice stuff from my husband, some CDs and a skirt. Although one thing is going to be returned in a few minutes. The shirt he got me from April Cornell that is getting returned is “plain-ish” for that store, but still too fru-fru for my taste. All ruffles and flowers and what not. My husband loves that stuff on women and I think he would love to see me in it more, but I’m just not that type. (Funny thing I heard… April Cornell sells all this super girly stuff and little girls frilly dresses, but never had any girls, only had boys. I wonder how she dressed them!)

So, before I go totally crazy crawling into the yellow wallpaper,I am going to go out. By myself. T and the hubby can stay home. T can pick on dad for a change instead of ME, and the hubby can watch the football game. And boy the Baltimore Ravens are stinking it up. It’s a good thing I don’t like football because even I can tell they are awful this year. I think I could throw fewer interceptions than Kyle Bowler.

Technical Difficulties?

Kira — Fri, 25 Nov 2005 17:56:47 +0000

If anyone has had problems with registration (like they haven’t gotten their password emailed to them) please let me know in comments below. Sorry!

Recent Kid Utterances

Kira — Wed, 23 Nov 2005 22:11:09 +0000

You know the drill.

D-W-D is a Magic Word.

I have to go to the doctor. I have Netflix.

Did you get that straw cup at Target?
(friend) Yeah, I got it at Target.

I’m crapping! (clapping)

I need a bigger diaper to put my pee pee in.

Biohazard House

Kira — Tue, 22 Nov 2005 00:33:42 +0000

Now that I am back on my feet again and the hubby is on the mend, the kid’s gotten the creepin’ crud. He’s got a fever and he’s all blob-like and lethargic and lacking his typical Tigger bounce. But he is cute as hell when he is sick. This isn’t just a little bug, I can tell, usually nothing stops him. It’s nice though, when he slows down enough to just lie around and cuddle. He makes a great lapwarmer when I am typing on the computer.
The thing about having illness in house, whether it is you or your kids, is it is very isolating. I feel like I’m in the Andromeda Strain with email and phone to contact the germ-free outside. Nobody wants your germs, so I have been out of the loop. Being cooped up in the house for weeks waiting to get everybody well enough so that other people won’t shun you can be kinda lonely.
At least I won’t get people all mad at me for knowingly spreading our family’s germs everywhere, like T’s preschool. Although I am pretty sure that I am the only person at preschool who doesn’t send their kid to school sick so why do I bother… I hope I get karma points for it somewhere.

Sign Up For The Deep Dish

Kira — Fri, 18 Nov 2005 14:17:19 +0000

If you haven’t done so already, register and sign up for The Deep Dish by clicking on the link my sidebar.
I’ll be posting some public posts, but many will only be available to registered users. It’s not that I have anything all that juicy to write, (okay, maybe a few things), but does the whole of the internet need to know everything I write? No.
Oh, and I’ll be writing over here in a few days.

Welcome To My New Home

Kira — Mon, 31 Oct 2005 18:40:25 +0000

If you’ve come by here by chance, I’m not yet up and running… it’s still a construction site but I hope to be up and running sometime in November. Hope to see you here soon!

Hello world!

Kira — Tue, 18 Oct 2005 21:27:25 +0000

Testing Testing 123!