A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.
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Sunday, December 30, 2007

Recycled Christmas Cookies

My husband had the most brilliant idea yesterday. You see I wasn't feeling well right before Christmas, so we BOUGHT (shudder) Christmas cookies this year to put out for Santa. He picked up a tin of fancy shmancy sugar coated, chocolate dipped butter cookies of various ilk.
The problem was, after the Coming of the Man in Red......we were sort of over them.
However, since they were for the Big Man, he hadn't picked up cheap crappie cookies -so we felt a little guilty about just tossing them. But they just lacked the, OOOMPH that homemade Christmas cookies have. They didn't inspire you to down them all in a feeding frenzy. In fact, they were just sort of "okay."
So the Husband started puzzling what to do with them. He hit upon the idea of somehow smashing them up and making a crust for something. To which I said "FOOD PROCESSOR! Like a graham cracker crust!"
So if you have some leftover random Christmas Cookies.....and hate to waste stuff, pick up a box of Jell-O Pudding and make yourself a Recycled Christmas Cookie Chocolate Pie.
I highly recommend it.
It's also an FDA recommended PMS Cure, I feel certain.

Recycled Christmas Cookies

My husband had the most brilliant idea yesterday. You see I wasn't feeling well right before Christmas, so we BOUGHT (shudder) Christmas cookies this year to put out for Santa. He picked up a tin of fancy shmancy sugar coated, chocolate dipped butter cookies of various ilk.
The problem was, after the Coming of the Man in Red......we were sort of over them.
However, since they were for the Big Man, he hadn't picked up cheap crappie cookies -so we felt a little guilty about just tossing them. But they just lacked the, OOOMPH that homemade Christmas cookies have. They didn't inspire you to down them all in a feeding frenzy. In fact, they were just sort of "okay."
So the Husband started puzzling what to do with them. He hit upon the idea of somehow smashing them up and making a crust for something. To which I said "FOOD PROCESSOR! Like a graham cracker crust!"
So if you have some leftover random Christmas Cookies.....and hate to waste stuff, pick up a box of Jell-O Pudding and make yourself a Recycled Christmas Cookie Chocolate Pie.
I highly recommend it.
It's also an FDA recommended PMS Cure, I feel certain.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

I am Part of The Problem

I am completely not interested in Brittney Spears. I can't even believe that anyone is. The girl has issues. The main issue being that she is not a girl, rather she is a woman who does not seem to realize she is no longer a girl. Regardless, I seriously don't care. The degree to which I am uninterested is truly huge in scope. I don't keep up, I just don't care.
Yet, recently, flipping through the web version of the news I see this headline that says some crap about Brittney stealing a lighter. I dunno, it just struck me. My first reaction was "Wtf?" and my second was to click on the link.
So here is Brittney Spears, in a bodega of some sort looks like buying gas, smokes, I dunno. What strikes me, is that in this tiny store.........are what I can only describe as a throng of photographers. Video, still.....all shooting shooting shooting. She's fumbling in her wallet, she's exchanging smart ass comments with them as they all vie for attention - desperate to get her to look at them, to say something, to DO something.
And I'm thinking as I watch this, what the fuck is WRONG with you people? I mean - she's BUYING GUM for God's sake....or whatever the fuck she is buying. I understand you go to a fancy party, you got the Paparazzi. You go to an LA Hotspot, you got the Paparazzi.
But.....at a shitty bodega somewhere in LA.............
she's getting followed by 30 photographers?

Why? I'm not going to rant like that whack job to leave Brittney alone.....but still, I'm baffled as I watch. And then as a little fuck you to the world, to the Paparazzi........to whomever, she walks back in, takes a lighter and says "oooo I stole a lighter I'm bad" and walks back out. Like, she's so fucking sick of them that she is trying to GIVE them something in the hopes they'll be satiated and go the fuck away.

I remark to my husband,"I don't get this? Who CARES about this? Why do they follow her around like this?"

And his remark was quite poignant. "Well, you're watching it."

Crap.
Because I watched the little ad in front of the news clip - I helped support whichever piece of crap photog shot this and sold it.....and now he has been fed and will continue to generate more video so that more people like me will randomly click on the video with real or passing interest....and it continues.

So I'm sorry Brittney Spears. I'm sorry that you can't buy gum without an entourage of jackasses following you. I'm sorry that me and my absent minded clicking continues to make your already fucked up life harder.

I am part of the problem.

I am Part of The Problem

I am completely not interested in Brittney Spears. I can't even believe that anyone is. The girl has issues. The main issue being that she is not a girl, rather she is a woman who does not seem to realize she is no longer a girl. Regardless, I seriously don't care. The degree to which I am uninterested is truly huge in scope. I don't keep up, I just don't care.
Yet, recently, flipping through the web version of the news I see this headline that says some crap about Brittney stealing a lighter. I dunno, it just struck me. My first reaction was "Wtf?" and my second was to click on the link.
So here is Brittney Spears, in a bodega of some sort looks like buying gas, smokes, I dunno. What strikes me, is that in this tiny store.........are what I can only describe as a throng of photographers. Video, still.....all shooting shooting shooting. She's fumbling in her wallet, she's exchanging smart ass comments with them as they all vie for attention - desperate to get her to look at them, to say something, to DO something.
And I'm thinking as I watch this, what the fuck is WRONG with you people? I mean - she's BUYING GUM for God's sake....or whatever the fuck she is buying. I understand you go to a fancy party, you got the Paparazzi. You go to an LA Hotspot, you got the Paparazzi.
But.....at a shitty bodega somewhere in LA.............
she's getting followed by 30 photographers?

Why? I'm not going to rant like that whack job to leave Brittney alone.....but still, I'm baffled as I watch. And then as a little fuck you to the world, to the Paparazzi........to whomever, she walks back in, takes a lighter and says "oooo I stole a lighter I'm bad" and walks back out. Like, she's so fucking sick of them that she is trying to GIVE them something in the hopes they'll be satiated and go the fuck away.

I remark to my husband,"I don't get this? Who CARES about this? Why do they follow her around like this?"

And his remark was quite poignant. "Well, you're watching it."

Crap.
Because I watched the little ad in front of the news clip - I helped support whichever piece of crap photog shot this and sold it.....and now he has been fed and will continue to generate more video so that more people like me will randomly click on the video with real or passing interest....and it continues.

So I'm sorry Brittney Spears. I'm sorry that you can't buy gum without an entourage of jackasses following you. I'm sorry that me and my absent minded clicking continues to make your already fucked up life harder.

I am part of the problem.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

...and This Song of Mine, in Three-Quarter Time...

Baby Birth of Cool performs an interpretive version of Jingle Bells, complete with some dance moves.

...and This Song of Mine, in Three-Quarter Time...

Baby Birth of Cool performs an interpretive version of Jingle Bells, complete with some dance moves.

Monday, December 24, 2007

I love Being a Mom Because...

Sometimes you wonder "What the hell is in my coat pocket?" and reach in and pull out a toy Cat in the Hat.

And then it makes you cry.

I love Being a Mom Because...

Sometimes you wonder "What the hell is in my coat pocket?" and reach in and pull out a toy Cat in the Hat.

And then it makes you cry.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

The Boys Prove Me Wrong Again

So every parent with more than one child knows, it's next to impossible to get ALL of them to look at the camera at the same time. We settle for family holiday photos where one kid is twisted around, looking backward, looking down etc. We'd be THRILLED if the only problem was that one or two of them were screaming. That'd be great, because we MIGHT see their face in the deal! Every time we start off getting pics done, be it Santa or the Easter Bunny or whatever else we always say the same thing "Just shoot, they won't all look, don't worry."
So you can imagine our shock and delight, when upon Santa's knee, this was captured:

I'm a fan of this Santa, he looks pretty good and the big boy was enthralled. He's still talking about him this morning. We had to send him an email because he FORGOT to tell him some things.

I know Christmas is sneaking up, but I thought I'd share a really neat little website that has some fun Christmas recipes for cookies and treats. PUT THE ROLL COOKIES DOWN! They are the WORK OF THE DEVIL! Now. Bake something for real! I think we all know Santa will poop in your stockings if you leave him cookies off a roll.

The Boys Prove Me Wrong Again

So every parent with more than one child knows, it's next to impossible to get ALL of them to look at the camera at the same time. We settle for family holiday photos where one kid is twisted around, looking backward, looking down etc. We'd be THRILLED if the only problem was that one or two of them were screaming. That'd be great, because we MIGHT see their face in the deal! Every time we start off getting pics done, be it Santa or the Easter Bunny or whatever else we always say the same thing "Just shoot, they won't all look, don't worry."
So you can imagine our shock and delight, when upon Santa's knee, this was captured:

I'm a fan of this Santa, he looks pretty good and the big boy was enthralled. He's still talking about him this morning. We had to send him an email because he FORGOT to tell him some things.

I know Christmas is sneaking up, but I thought I'd share a really neat little website that has some fun Christmas recipes for cookies and treats. PUT THE ROLL COOKIES DOWN! They are the WORK OF THE DEVIL! Now. Bake something for real! I think we all know Santa will poop in your stockings if you leave him cookies off a roll.

Friday, December 21, 2007

The Hairs of a Billy Goat

I used to work with this woman who was always dressed to the nines. She always had the cute bag and shoes and accessories. She got her hair done frequently and was always well coiffed. She also had this mole.
It was about a half in long - meaning - it STUCK OUT FROM HER FACE about a half inch.

This monstrosity in itself might've been not so horrific, had it not also had about FIVE HUGE BLACK HAIRS jutting out of it.

It never made sense. She went to SO much trouble to look great. But couldn't even PULL THOSE FUCKING HAIRS out of her chin. They were mesmerizing. You couldn't look away. They were so insane - they made no sense. And when she smoked on breaks, it was like the cigarrette was illuminating them, just so you got a better view.

I bring this up, because last week.......I discovered that I too am becoming a billy goat. I sprouted a black hideous hair in a mole (a nice flat non-sticking up mole) on my face, and another on my cheek.

I'm horrified by this - my face is rebelling against me. I take a lot of care not to look like a total freakshow and now THIS.

BILLYGOAT HAIRS!?! NOOOO! I'm not EVEN 40 YET!! DAMMIT!

Needless to say, I plucked the fuckers. And this is a warning to all of their heirs.......YOU TOO WILL BE PLUCKED. Don't MAKE ME GET ELECTROLYSIS!

The Hairs of a Billy Goat

I used to work with this woman who was always dressed to the nines. She always had the cute bag and shoes and accessories. She got her hair done frequently and was always well coiffed. She also had this mole.
It was about a half in long - meaning - it STUCK OUT FROM HER FACE about a half inch.

This monstrosity in itself might've been not so horrific, had it not also had about FIVE HUGE BLACK HAIRS jutting out of it.

It never made sense. She went to SO much trouble to look great. But couldn't even PULL THOSE FUCKING HAIRS out of her chin. They were mesmerizing. You couldn't look away. They were so insane - they made no sense. And when she smoked on breaks, it was like the cigarrette was illuminating them, just so you got a better view.

I bring this up, because last week.......I discovered that I too am becoming a billy goat. I sprouted a black hideous hair in a mole (a nice flat non-sticking up mole) on my face, and another on my cheek.

I'm horrified by this - my face is rebelling against me. I take a lot of care not to look like a total freakshow and now THIS.

BILLYGOAT HAIRS!?! NOOOO! I'm not EVEN 40 YET!! DAMMIT!

Needless to say, I plucked the fuckers. And this is a warning to all of their heirs.......YOU TOO WILL BE PLUCKED. Don't MAKE ME GET ELECTROLYSIS!

Sunday, December 16, 2007

5 Years Married and 10 Years Together

You have a ceremony and it looks like this.

And then you go outside and they take more pictures and it looks like this.
But this isn't what makes it real. What makes it real are the days when things go wrong and despite being tired and frazzled yourself you end up holding a sleeping distraught child while he sleeps.
What makes it real are the endless days of babies sleeping at the foot of your bed, keeping you awake intermittently throughout the night, and you live through it together.

What makes it real is figuring out how to drag out three kids under the age of three to a symphony under the stars concert, because you really want to go and you used to do such things when you DIDN'T HAVE KIDS.

What makes it real is that where there was once only two apart, there were two together, then three, then five. And that this is how you always want it to be. When you wake up every day knowing that the space next to you is filled with the warmth from the one you love, and the sounds on the baby monitor are the sounds of the tiny humans you created together, your immortality sleeping soundly in toddler beds.
Happy Wedding Anniversary Family. One day of many, that made us who we are.

5 Years Married and 10 Years Together

You have a ceremony and it looks like this.

And then you go outside and they take more pictures and it looks like this.
But this isn't what makes it real. What makes it real are the days when things go wrong and despite being tired and frazzled yourself you end up holding a sleeping distraught child while he sleeps.
What makes it real are the endless days of babies sleeping at the foot of your bed, keeping you awake intermittently throughout the night, and you live through it together.

What makes it real is figuring out how to drag out three kids under the age of three to a symphony under the stars concert, because you really want to go and you used to do such things when you DIDN'T HAVE KIDS.

What makes it real is that where there was once only two apart, there were two together, then three, then five. And that this is how you always want it to be. When you wake up every day knowing that the space next to you is filled with the warmth from the one you love, and the sounds on the baby monitor are the sounds of the tiny humans you created together, your immortality sleeping soundly in toddler beds.
Happy Wedding Anniversary Family. One day of many, that made us who we are.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Clowns are People Too

The conversation went like this:
Lil Satchmo: Does Uncle Matt drive trains with just people or freight?
Me: Just Freight.
LS: But he might drive people sometimes.
Me: No he works for CSX, they only pull freight baby.
LS: But they might pull people, you never know.
Me: Yes I do know, AMTRAK pulls people, CSX pulls freight.
LS: But maybe somtimes they pull people.
Me: No, they never pull people. Only freight.

There is a pause.

LS: But what about clowns? Clowns are people.

Me: OH........yeah.

You see........this is my brother the famed Uncle Matt......pulling clowns, and trapeze artists, and jugglers, and high wire performers etc. You get the picture.

How COOL is his job?

Clowns are People Too

The conversation went like this:
Lil Satchmo: Does Uncle Matt drive trains with just people or freight?
Me: Just Freight.
LS: But he might drive people sometimes.
Me: No he works for CSX, they only pull freight baby.
LS: But they might pull people, you never know.
Me: Yes I do know, AMTRAK pulls people, CSX pulls freight.
LS: But maybe somtimes they pull people.
Me: No, they never pull people. Only freight.

There is a pause.

LS: But what about clowns? Clowns are people.

Me: OH........yeah.

You see........this is my brother the famed Uncle Matt......pulling clowns, and trapeze artists, and jugglers, and high wire performers etc. You get the picture.

How COOL is his job?

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Binocular Soccer

Why do Japanese game shows do more fun stuff than ours?

Binocular Soccer

Why do Japanese game shows do more fun stuff than ours?

The Little Blonde Boys of My Life

Once upon a time, about 28 years ago, a little blonde boy came into my life. As he grew, he started to love trains. He talked endlessly, ceaselessly, tirelessly about trains. Relentlessly he'd show you his Walthers catalogs, ask to watch shows about trains, look at books about trains. In short, he loved trains.
He looked a lot like this, when he was little.
Then later in my life another train lover arrived. He also talks endlessly and tirelessly about trains.
Ad nauseum. That's a lot of train cars, don't you think?

Is it any wonder, that when we get these two together, they are peas in a pod? The conversation goes something like this. "Train trains train train train, steam engine diesel trains diesel steam engine diesel trains."

Or something like that.

The Little Blonde Boys of My Life

Once upon a time, about 28 years ago, a little blonde boy came into my life. As he grew, he started to love trains. He talked endlessly, ceaselessly, tirelessly about trains. Relentlessly he'd show you his Walthers catalogs, ask to watch shows about trains, look at books about trains. In short, he loved trains.
He looked a lot like this, when he was little.
Then later in my life another train lover arrived. He also talks endlessly and tirelessly about trains.
Ad nauseum. That's a lot of train cars, don't you think?

Is it any wonder, that when we get these two together, they are peas in a pod? The conversation goes something like this. "Train trains train train train, steam engine diesel trains diesel steam engine diesel trains."

Or something like that.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Beauty Queens and Band Geeks are Not the Same Group of People

This Video is confirmation.

It is however, screamingly hilarious.

Enjoy.

Huge props to Xta for finding this nugget and sharing. You rock.

Beauty Queens and Band Geeks are Not the Same Group of People

This Video is confirmation.

It is however, screamingly hilarious.

Enjoy.

Huge props to Xta for finding this nugget and sharing. You rock.