EverAfterLand

Politi-cool

It is the weekend, when some of the quirky, strange thoughts rattling around my head come out of hiding and ooze out onto my blog.  And what has been lurking in my just-shy-of-normal brain lately?

The election, of course.

Kind of hard to get away from.

So, yeah, Obama and old white dude.  Huh.  Anyone else out there feel like The Bama has lost some coolness points here?  I know the die-hard BamaMamas will say no.  But as the Undecide-a-ling perched up on that fence, choosing whether to be kicked by an Ass or stomped by an Elephant, I think I'm the one all these pollsters and surveyors are trying to gauge the opinion of. 

And true to my superficial, I-only-like-what's-cool-and-pretty decision-making skills, I go back and forth on who's my favorite.  Obama danced on Ellen, and looked hot doing it.  He was my fave.  Saw McCain on Saturday Night Live, OK, he can be my fave, too. 

Yeah, like leaves trapped in a corner on a windy day, my preferences swirl around and around and around.

So when The Bama announced his VP choice, I cringed.  I understand the rationale.  He can't look TOO hip, or old people won't like him.  But was that worth disenfranchising the hip, young cats who DO like him?  Now, he just looks like a politician.  An I'm-going-to-manipulate-this-and-tell-you-what-you-want-to-hear-till-I'm-elected politician.  Bummer.

And then McCain busted out his VP choice, and I was all, that totally ROCKS!  Way to go chica!  You've made previous old white dude look hip!  Didn't think ANYBODY could pull that off.  Coolness points have most definitely gone up!

Don't get me wrong, it was not lost on me that McCain's VP pick was equally strategic.  McCain desperately needs some cool points and knows it.  It's just that I already see McCain as a weathered politician who recognizes the game and knows how it has to be played.  Part of Obama's appeal is the idea that he's new to the game and rebelling against it.  A Rebel with a Cause. 

Now a Rebel with an Old White Guy.

So I'm watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report last night (cause, let's face it, that's where superficial voters get ALL their political info) and they called McCain's VP, Sarah Palin, the naughty librarian in a Cinemax movie. 

What? 

Why?

Because she's pretty?

Because she wears glasses?

Because she's got poufy hair?

She is obviously an accomplished woman - she's a GOVERNOR for crimeny sakes - why does she have to be degraded by white men as looking like a porn queen?  Why do supposedly "enlightened" men, who center their programming on being superior to the common news show/politician/average joe insist on bashing a woman, not for her political leanings or her experience, but because she's, well, a pretty girl.  Why do we continue to perpetuate this idea that a beautiful woman can be thought of as nothing more then a sex object, and an emasculated woman can have her thoughts "taken seriously?"  Why does it have to be one or the other? 

I think you can agree, whether your blue or red, right or left, or something in between, as women we are multi-faceted.  We can be sexy, smart, mothers, hookers, beer guzzlers, martini drinkers, bible thumpers, diaper changers, hair up, down, straight, curly depending on our mood that day.  We are multi-faceted, where men seem to be pretty one-dimensional. 

Hubby could be happy wearing the same t-shirt and shorts every day of the week.

I relish looking at my make-up tray (on days I feel like wearing make-up!) and deciding what I want to be that day.  Natural or sweet or haughty or glamorous.  Because I'm all those things at once, all the time.  And I think it's a damn dirty shame when a woman is forced to apologize for that. 

Forced to be as one-dimensional as a man.

I'm disgusted with these shows.  And if their liberal slant was trying to turn my tide their way, they are sorely mistaken.  Their little rants just make me want to vote for Gov. Palin MORE!

She's bringing sexy/smart back.

And I think that rocks.

Well, McCain, too, I guess, by association.

*Disclaimer #1: I do not advocate making important voting choices based on "coolness."  Taking a closer look at the candidates' platforms** is really the best way to go!

**That's "platform" as in political thoughts, not shoes!

***Disclaimer #2:  Before you yell at me, letting you know that I'll be over at Newsweek renewing my subscription.  I don't want to tell my daughter, when she's in her teens and has to write a paper on this election, that I based my presidential decision on who danced better with Ellen!

PhotoStory Friday - Freedom!

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

I had so many wonderful comments after last week's PhotoStory Friday.  All you folks inspired by our participation in the Race for the Cure event.  It was a very odd thing, seeing as how I rarely do anything worth emulating.  I pondered all week about how I was going to follow up such a moving photographic journal.  What could make you, my dear reader, feel even more inspired then a cute baby fighting breast cancer? 

After about 15 minutes, I gave up.

Now I present to you, portrayed in photos, the story of a Mommy let loose for the night.  The hedonistic event known as The Bachelorette Party!

After dropping Miss Priss off to Grandma for a free overnight babysitter some bonding time (say it with me ladies - FREEDOM!!!), it was time to get glamorous.

Before....
Yeah, it is that bad.  So you don't get to see this pic any bigger then that!

After....

Ah!  Much better!  What, you think "natural beauty" just happens?  It took me three hours to look this naturally beautiful!

The bachelorette we were honoring with the use of little plastic penises by celebrating one of her remaining nights of singledom, is the sister of a friend.

The evening started out with some of this...

Don't let all the straws fool you, it was only Sissy and myself suckin' this thing down!

We then took the party on the road....

Next up, was a few more of these....

Which turned into some of this....

And left us all with a desperate desire for a few of these....

And by the morning light, wrapped up in this....

Hm, what's that?  Why were we all wearing green?  Why, that's a really good question!  And because we received so many queries about our green attire, we ordered The Bachelorette to make up a new story each time it was asked.  My favorite:  "We are all very environmentally conscious, so we're wearing green to make people more aware of the environment."  Mind you, this was said by a woman standing in a Village Inn at 3am, wearing tulle on her head, a shot glass around her neck, and a penis hanging from a bracelet on her arm. 

So I'm asking you all - why do you think we were wearing green?  Person who conjures up the best story will win their own plastic penis acclaim and accolades from yours truly.  What more could you possibly want?

Beauty Sleep

If long hours of sleeping directly equates to how beautiful you are, then I'm a friggin SUPERMODEL this morning!

That's right.  I slept.  And slept and slept and slept.

And it was a wonderful and beautiful thing.

This has happened, maybe, five times since we brought Miss Priss home from the hospital, nearing two years ago. 

She's a morning person.  I'm a night owl.  And as a TSSAHM (that's temporarily single stay-at-home mom), it's all on me when my princess awakens in the morning.  She never thinks "maybe mommy is tired today," or "wonder if mommy got to bed late last night."  All she thinks about is herself.

"I'M awake."

"I'M bored."

"I'M wet."

"I'M hungry."

Ingrate.

So last night my early bird went to bed a wee bit late, usually meaning she'll get up extra early.  I know, life is a cruel thing sometimes.

But lo and behold what happened this morning? 

Blackness.

A storm has rolled in and it's as black as night around here.  Fooled my lil' Miss Priss into some extra dream time.  So guess what time we woke up?  No, really, guess!

8:30!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel WELL-RESTED!  I feel READY FOR THE DAY!!!!

It makes me want to hire a nanny to take care of my princess in the morning.  That seems reasonable, right?

Go away kid, mommy's getting her beauty sleep.

Cover Your Ears!!!

Have you ever heard the wild scream of the banshee, up close and personal?  The ear piercing pitch that can be heard for miles?  The shrill screech that can drown out ambulances and firetrucks?

I have.  And it came out as a four-letter word more horrible and disgusting then Rachel at Following in My Shoes could ever dare imagine.

It sounded something like this:

"MINE!  MIIIIINE!!  MMMMiiiiiIIIIIIIIINNNNE!!!!!!"

It started innocently enough, out in the backyard of Grandma's house, blowing bubbles.  "bUbbas," is how my once-innocent darling pronounces it.  Back when she was cute.

But she wasn't getting any bubbles out.  And she was rapidly becoming frustrated.  Granpop stepped in to help, taking the bubble wand from her tiny hands and waving it through the air, large, happy bubbles emerging from it.

That's when it happened.  The day the world changed forever.  Dark, ominous clouds blotted out the sun and lightning flashed in the distance.  The wind howled, pelting us with leaves and small chipmunks.  Miss Priss was lifted off the ground by some demonic force, eyes blazing, hair standing on end as if electrocuted, and from the depths of hell, through her small vocal chords, past her sweet bow of a mouth came a screech, a wail, the cry of the banshee....

"MMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNE!!!!!!!!"

We dropped to the ground and covered our ears, unsure of where such a fearsome sound had come from.  How could my angel, my Shirley Temple look-alike, produce such a horrific noise? 

And then she did it again. 

Our new household phrase is "you have to SHARE."  She has no idea what this means.  Everything is now "hers." 

"My bebe (that's what she named her paci)."

"My bear."

"My water."

"My book."   "That's mommy's book."  "MiiiIIIIIIIIINE!!"

And with the birth of the Banshee, goes extinct the Generous Mom.  The Mom that wanted to get her little angel anything and everything that she thought would make her happy.  Generous Mom can only produce Spoiled Brat Banshees.  From the ashes of Generous Mom, rises a new, more strict version of mom, the Stingy Mom.  The mom that's so mean, she won't get her Brat Banshee anything.  And is rumored to secretly enjoy it.

Oh well.  It was fun while it lasted.

Mommy of the Year

"Mr. Potato Head Finds a New Home"
Subtitled "Hey, it's called RECYCLING!"
Sub-subtitled "Why's Mr. Potato Head Smiling Like That?"


 

The Weirdest in All the Land...

I am a TV addict, and I am totally OK with that. 

I drool at the thought of the new fall season coming up.  Especially the sci-fi shows and the murder mysteries.

But there must be a screw loose in the ol' noggin, cause I do NOT partake in Grey's Anatomy.  Or Lost for that matter.  However, if they decide to kill off Merideth and then try to solve the crime, they will have my full attention.

If a show seems even slightly interesting to me, 9 times out of 10 I will record and watch.  Because I have this personal belief that ALL television deserves watching at least once. 

Oh, and don't go assuming I record with just any crappy cable DVR.  No ma'am, that's not good enough for a TV Elitist such as myself.  It's Tivo all the way, baby!

I have used cable DVR's from one coast to another and back again, and NOTHING compares to the awesomeness of Tivo.  Nothing.

If I could marry Tivo, I would.

And we would have adorable baby remote controls.

I'm pretty sure I've seen every episode of Law & Order ever made.  And Murder She Wrote.  Twice.

And I heart Magnum, P.I.  I married my husband because he has Magnum's legs.

What's that?  You didn't know I was 80 years old?  Bite me.

So here's the real reason for all my fetish TV talk.  I was tagged by Mary over at Everyday Baby Steps to list seven adorably weird things about me.  If you read the above, you might have noticed about seven very cute weird things about my very bizarre television watching habits.  (Shut up!   Hubby thinks they're cute!)  If you couldn't find seven, that either means I'm not as weird as I thought (yippee!) or you are not as normal as you thought (um, well... yay?).  And if you found way more the seven, you need to loosen up.  I order you to take a shot of tequila, immediately!

Now who am I going to tag to do the same seven weird things list?  Hmmmm, I'm going to have to pass on that one.  I never mind sharing my own weirdnesses, but I draw the line at making others feel obligated to share as well.  Besides, I was tagged last month and I can't think of anybody who would do it!

In other news, I was awarded once again!  You are looking at the proud recipient of my second (Yes, that means I got it TWICE!!!) Brilliante Weblog Award!  Let's look upon its brilliance yet again....

This brilliante award was handed over to me by Amy, fabulous blogess to I'm Living On Sunshine Street, a brilliante blog in it's own right and totally deserving of this award!   

Because I so recently handed this award out to several other brilliante blogs, I thought I'd take this opportunity to pass it on to blogs that I wanted to give the first award to, but couldn't because they had received it at the same time, or blogs that are WAY too big-time to care about getting such a thing from little ol' small potatoes me.

• Musings of a Barefoot Foodie
• The Wise (*Young*) Mommy
• The Junk Drawer
• The Wind in Your Vagina
• She's Following In My Shoes
• Cutie Booty Cakes
• Metalia

Please check these folks out.  They are funny and honest in ways that I can only dream of.  (What?  You think that means I'm lying to you?  Hmm, guess you'll never know.)  And for my brilliante winners, you are totally off the hook!  Well, yeah, I mean "off the hook," as in "you're the heezy fresheezy," but I really mean that you do not have to pass this on, if you don't want to.  Several of you already have, and a few of you probably won't even read my comment to know that you got one in the first place.

But if my diabolical plan works, you Big Timers will know who I am.  Oh, yes... yes, you will.... Any day now.....

PhotoStory Friday- Racing Priss for the Cure

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

"Race for the Cure" may have been the name of this event, spelled out in large fancy lettering across my t-shirt, but that would sound misleading to my readers.  And the last thing I would EVER want to do is mislead my readers.  (pay no attention to the devilish grin)  I have to admit, for us it was more of a "Stroll for the Cure." 

But no matter.  Whether racing or strolling or riding (in Miss Priss' case), the final results were the same -- moving in the direction of a cure for breast cancer, and having some fun in the process!

Our day started much like any other - all of us converging at my mom's house at various degrees of tardiness, but not more then half an hour late.

After much agonizing over the positioning of our race numbers (we decided the back was the appropriate place), we finally had our acts together, and away we went!
Mom, Sissy, and Miss Priss

So what is my secret for keeping a toddler happy in her stroller while waiting around for the Big Race to start?  A big a$$ bag of Cheerios!
Aunt C, Mom, Sissy, Myself & Priss

Miss Priss was content in her stroller for most of the race fast-ish walk.  But, really, how long can you expect a toddler, hopped up on Cheerios, to want to stay strapped down?  Eventually, the monkey had to be let loose...

--

--

First there was walking.  But that was soooooo s...l....o....w.  Since she's a monkey, we thought we'd try swinging....

Apparently, several minutes of swinging starts to feel like you're arms are being ripped from their sockets.  We were ordered to stop by the only one who bothered to notice the pained face on my little one - my mom.  Time to try a new tactic....

--

--

--

--

--

--

Shoulders!  Unfortunately, I am not full of testosterone and strapping muscles.  This really is a man's job. 

After giving up on all our strategies, we noticed that we were rapidly losing ground.  By this point, Priss thought it was funny to run off toward the parking lots we were passing.  She has zero concept of walking in the middle of the street.  (Hmm, guess that should be a GOOD thing?)  A vote was taken (by me) of all eligible voters (me) and it was decided unanimously (by just me) that Priss had to go back in the stroller.  Sure, there was some screaming and crying about it, but give the girl some chocolate cookies, and she's seeing the bright side of a stroller existence!  (Yeah, I solve all my kid's problems with food.  So?)

And we walked.

And walked.

And walked and walked and walked.

Until.....

THE FINISH LINE!!!

I have no idea how long it took. Apparently, only "runners" get clocked.  Whatever.  I officially declare that we were the fastest WALKERS there!

As you can imagine, watching Priss with all those Cheerios made us all very hungry.  What to do?  Head off to chain breakfast-making joint that charges too much for pancakes!

But by then, Miss Priss was too pooped to participate.  She did walk a whole five blocks, you know!

I think this picture makes me look like a rabbit.  But I shouldn't tell you that, or you'll see nothing but a rabbit from now on.

Whoops.

Look at the pretty sleeping baby!!!

Dog + Baby = Misery

My house has felt like a war zone since the moment we brought Miss Priss home from the hospital.  Perhaps "war zone" is a little too harsh.  More like a furry toddler jealous of his new baby sister.  Except this toddler growls.  And has really big, sharp teeth.

It started out innocently enough.  Eddie (that's the furry toddler in question) would lay on my feet while I was breastfeeding, then jump into my lap once the baby was put down.  If the baby could be that close, Eddie wanted to be close, too. 

Once Priss started crawling, then walking, and now racing around the house screeching, Eddie insisted on asserting his authorit-i (in the words of South Park's Cartman).

And he did that by growling. 

Sometimes it was a little under-the-breath growl.

Sometimes it was with teeth.

He never bit or nipped.  But the growling was enough to make both hubby and I nervous.

What could we do?  We didn't know.  Up till now, Eddie was a pretty well-behaved dog.  Yes, he'd been an only child, hence the jealousy issues.  He also disliked children in general.  To him, they were all puppies.  Puppies that HE had to discipline.

Official plan of attack in Happily-Ever-After-Land on this possibly disastrous problem -- Wait it out and hope he gets over it.

Yeah, in case your wondering, I don't recommend using that one.

For almost two years now we've been living in misery, I had just refused to acknowledge it.  My days were filled with "STOP THAT!," "CUT IT OUT!," and my favorite "OEDIPUS!!!"  (Eddie's full name is Oedipus, the name he was christened with when he was chewing on my engagement ring as we were driving him home from the shelter, a fuzzy little ball of 8-week-old puppy, 5 years ago.  But let's not focus on the cuteness, here.  We're mad as hell and we're not taking it anymore!)

OK, where was I?  Oh, yeah.  Eddie's growling had escalated into barking.  Basically, he was yelling at Miss Priss.  I'd finally hit my limit.  I was mad as hell and I wasn't going to take it anymore!

My original thought was that I'd have to give him away.  There was a lovely older couple that thought he was the best doggy in the whole world.  (Boy did he fool them!)  And the best part - they had no kids.  But I didn't want to get rid of him.  He's our baby!  And damn that hubby for leaving me to take care of the dirty work!!!

I had a tearful conversation with my friend ES, dog-mommy to Eddie's girlfriend, Isabel.  Thank goodness I talked to her first.  "Call a trainer," she told me.  "See if it can be fixed before you do anything rash."

So that's what I did.  This is no PetSmart trainer, mind you, this dude trains bomb sniffing dogs.  This is hard-core sh&t we're talking about here.  If this doesn't work - nothing will.

Jim the Trainer came to my home and sat down to talk with me last week.  I told him about all our problems and how it has escalated.  I recounted how jealous Eddie has been and how unhappy we've been because of it.  I asked if there was anything that could be done, or if, in a fit of jealous rage, my dog was going to end up eating my baby.  "It doesn't help that he looks like dingo!"  I said.  And after all that listening, Jim summed up his evaluation in one sentence.

"Your dog is a brat."

Oh.  My.  God.  He was absolutely RIGHT!!!  And it was in that moment that I finally realized what had happened.  I had turned into that type of parent that other people don't want to be around because her child is a terror and gets away with it, and the parent makes lame excuses for this awful behavior instead of doing something about it.  My human child had more discipline and consistency then my furry one.  How could I let it spiral so far out of control?

We got to work immediately. 

My family has been likening Jim to "The Dog Whisperer" as-seen-on-TV.  I wouldn't use that description, exactly.

He's more like The Dog Tornado.

In Eddie's eyes, he showed up with no warning, turned his whole world upside down in an instant, and now he's left to figure out how to move on in this post-traumatic existence.

Yep, that sums it up!

We've signed up for the six week course, which means Jim the Dog Tornado comes to our home once a week for the next six and gives me tips and techniques on how to become the master in my own home again. 

"He thinks he's in charge of the house," Jim explained.  "We have to show him that he's not.  That you and the baby rank above him in the hierarchy."

And boy, have we ever!  Eddie now wears a leash 24/7.  This allows me to discipline him IMMEDIATELY when he does anything I don't like.  If he looks at me cross-eyed, he gets a little jerk on the leash.

And we had to reinstate the crate.  Eddie has always hated the crate.  We NEVER used it as punishment and had him in there every night as a puppy.  Nevertheless, it was not considered a "comfy home" to him.  It felt like prison.  Well he's violated parole, and now he's headed back.  He's been confined periodically to the crate for a week now, and when I looked inside it today, there were seven little scratch marks on the wall.  And what looked like the beginnings of a shiv made out of a rubber Kong toy under his blanket.

The days may have been rough on Eddie, but they've been wonderful for us. 

No more growling.  Every so often he tries to sneak one in under his breath, but I'm there in an instant, leash in hand.  Miss Priss has even gotten her hands on Ed-pie's fav toy without incident.  That's progress!  And he's so much better when people come to the door.  He wants to jump, but he can't.  I've got his leash! 

"But will he be happy?"  I asked Jim the Dog Tornado.  "I mean, I know WE will be happier without the growling.  But would Eddie be happier in a home without kids?  Am I just making him miserable?"

Jim the Dog Tornado laughed at me in that maniacal laugh he likes to use when he talks about being the "Supreme Being" in your home. 

"You're humanizing him too much.

He's a DOG!"

Oh, well, yeah, I have to remember that.

You Like Me! You REALLY Like Me!!!

Blogging has been an experience much like my first day at a new school during the middle of my 8th grade year.  Everybody already knew each other - seems like they've known each other forever.  Do they like me?  Do they hate me?  Do they even notice me?  I love writing, and I've enjoyed all the people I've met during my short bloggy life, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to moments of weakness, bummed out that my stats weren't going up or that my Entrecard ad rate is so low.  (Could you imagine having stats in high school?  I'm not sure I would have made it through!)  At my low points, I would keep chanting my mantra, "My mom thinks I'm funny.  My mom thinks I'm funny.  My mom thinks I'm funny," and I'd brighten up again.

Just the other day, I was whining to discussing with Renee at Cutie Booty Cakes (an awesome blogger, by the way, and obviously extremely nice and charitable) some ideas to increase traffic, when lo and behold I was bestowed with not one, but TWO awards!  You can imagine my shock!  And my girlish squeals of delight!!!  Sissy was witnessing my elation, to which she proclaimed, "What the heck is wrong with you?"

"I got an award!"  I told her breathlessly.

"What the heck is that?"

"Bloggers give them to each other, see, I'll show you..."

And after a few minutes of trying to explain, Sissy just shrugged her shoulders and gave that my-sister-is-a-lunatic-and-somebody-needs-to-do-an-intervention look.

Whatever, I don't care, I've got AWARDS!!!  I have ARRIVED!!!

And now, to introduce the first of my TWO awards...

Kelly over at Neurotic Mom gave me the Brilliante Weblog Award.  (Obviously, it has much more status then the "Brilliant Weblog Award."  That "e" means so much!)  She was so deserving as the original receiver of this award (her blog rocks!) and I feel so honored that an amazing bloggess such as herself would think so highly of lil' ol' small-potatoes me!

And, along the same lines as Miss America, I will pass this crown on to other bloggy folks who have been doing stellar blogginess on their fabulously brilliante blogs...

1. Katherine Unabridged
2. Posh Point of View
3. She Lives
4. Mommay's Mayhem
5. Home of the Lazy Dog
6. Sex Diaries of a Mom
7. How to Party with an Infant

To these lovely Bloggy Princesses, I turn over the Brilliante Crown.  Now go out and spread the love to seven other well-deserving blogs!

My SECOND (yes, that's of TWO!) award is the Kick Ass Blogger Award!  I love that I am deemed kick ass and brilliante all in the same day!  I feel like those women in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" - Kicking Ass Brilliantely!  This award was kindly given me by Rachel over at Following in my Shoes, a stellar blogger in her own right.  I just go for cheap humor, Rachel's got heart in her posts that I can only dream of emulating one day.

Once again, I would like to hand over my Kick Ass Crown to the following kickety-ass bloggers...

1. Cheaper Than Therapy
2. Neurotic Mom
3. Run DMT
4. The Sassy Southerner
5. Bringing Up Twins

The awardees are kindly encouraged to head on over to MamaDawg's to pick up their html code and get a run-down of the rules. In short, they will be asked to turn their crowns over to five other ass-kicking bloggettes.

And that is the run-down for today.  This post was a lot of work, what with all the choosing and linking and stuff, but it is work that I would love to do any day of the week!

Now I am off to enjoy my day on this Awards High.  I think I'll wear my pink furry tiara, so everyone knows how awesome I am. 

But maybe I ought change out of my jammies first. 

Auntie of the Year

"Warm Summer Breezes"