Sometimes....all I need is the air that I breathe and some Bravo...

I love the Bravo channel. I mean...I Luh-uh-uh-uh-OVE the Bravo channel. The shows on there draw me in and give me something to look forward to almost every single night. It's how I keep track of the days, really. It's my calendar. Pathetic, right? I don't care. Bravo is my guilty pleasure...well, THAT and the "good chocolate" that I hide in my nightstand from the kids and the hubby.
From Top Chef to My Life on the D List, Bravo always delivers a dose of voyeuristic reality nirvana. Don't even get me started on The Real Housewives of --- series (Word Nene, Caroline rocks the NJ Mafia, and Bethanny - you are my GIRL!) I will sit for HOURS watching re-run after re-run after re-run of the Housewives, saying aloud the lines that I have memorized like one of those Stars Wars fanatics used to do back in the '70's ("I've seen it 437 times, man. I have several theories about the Dark Side. Want to come over? We can hang out in the basement and play the soundtrack and re-enact the fight scenes. BYOLS - Bring Your Own Light Saber.")
Anyway, my latest obsession is the Next Great Artist, not so much from the standpoint of enjoying great art and the process from which it comes, but from a purely comedic point of view. These guys KILL me! EVERYTHING is WAY deep and has suffocatingly heavy meaning. One of the more-hailed conceptual pieces was comprised of the artist taking a nap on a puffy, weird pillow between two concrete anuses (would two anuses be "ani"?) I can't remember what the piece was supposed to represent, but it probably had to do with Mommy-didn't-hug-me-enough or something. (Doesn't most great art come from having crappy parents?)
The absolute best part of the show, though, is when the artist is describing their art to onlookers and judges. It goes something like this (picture a very skinny, pale 20-ish guy with long bangs which he is constantly swishing to the left side so he can see, in my mind he also talks with a slow Valley-Girl-on-'ludes accent...which HE thinks makes him sound sullen and tortured...idiot):
"Uh...yeah...my piece is, like, representative of the separation of the classes in modern-day America, anti-capitalism...and society is, like, just not good and stuff...and, oh, yeah, and anti-existentialism, juxtaposed against the tyranny of, like, neo-apocalyptical greed and the beauty of pre-man Earth."
"Really, that's what you were going for?"
"Oh, yeah, dude. Can't you see it, man?"
"No. I can't. I just see a bunch of splashes and smears of paint."
"Dude......squint."
"Oh! Okay...oh, now wait a minute. I think I see a hippo wearing a Sh*t Happens t-shirt and a tutu...eating a triple-decker ice-cream cone...and standing on one foot in front of the Twin Towers?"
"Exactly."
"Uh hmmm.... Well...that certainly is an interesting piece. Tell me, how did you get that smear pattern? What kind of paint brush did you use?"
"My butt."

The Five Days of VBS

This chronicles the five days of taking my three children to Vacation Bible School. Set to "The Twelve Days of Christmas"...beginning at, say, Day 8.

The first day of VBS was such a joy to me...
Got new bill$ to donate,
15 minutes early,
Three ironed outfits,
FIIIIIVE DAYS OF FUUUUUN.......
Four home-cooked breakfasts
Three smiling faces,
Too glad to get there,
And a minivan full of glee.

The second day of VBS was such a joy to me...
Some cash and some quarters,
10 minutes early,
Fluffed clothes in the dryer,
FOOOOUR DAYS OF FUUUUUN.......
Scrambled eggs and hot toast,
Three smiling faces,
O, so glad to get there,
And a minivan full of glee.

The third day of VBS was such a joy to me...
Nickels, dimes, and quarters,
3 minutes early,
Well at least they match well,
THREEEEE DAYS OF FUUUUN......
Everyone had Pop Tarts,
Three sleepy faces,
"Geez, when will we get there?"
And I nearly drove into a tree.

The fourth day of VBS was such a joy to me...
Three nickels and a penny,
1 minute early,
"Does everyone have shoes on?"
TWOOOOO DAYS OF FUUUUUN.....
Powdered sugar doughnuts,
Three cranky faces,
"Do we REALLY have to go there?"
Crafts are piling up to our knees.

The fifth day of VBS was such a joy to me...
Pennies and a token,
Driving in on two wheels,
"Just wear your pajamas!"
LAAAAAST DAY OF FUUUUUN.......
Juice box and a vitamin,
Three resentful faces,
"Next year we're NOT coming!"
"How come the minivan smells like pee?"

Ode to a Bunny

Oh, little bunny,
How my heart hath adored,
Watching you grow,
Just out my back door.

Such a sweet, gentle creature,
With eyes wide and clear.
Such a delicate feature
Your sweet, tiny ears.

Oh, my heart hath warmed,
Watching you sprite,
Across my green lawn,
To my children's delight.

And now that you've grown,
I must say, alas,
If you keep eating my flowers,
I shall fricassee your A$$!

I Don't Like Wire Hangers, Either!

Remember when Mommie Dearest came out when we were young? Everybody felt so sorry for those kids, what with the Mom screaming all the time and all those crazy demands and strapping them down in their beds at night. Remember the part where the girl wouldn't eat the rare steak and sat at the table all night long? I was so sympathic toward those poor, poor children. I remember thinking, "OMG....what a nightmare to have a mother like THAT!"
Now, as an adult and mother of three, I look back on that movie, as I stand in the kitchen, both hands covered in cake batter, phone ringing, children screaming "More juice! Change the Channel! We want Noggin! Bring us a snack! MOM CAN YOU HEAR US? MOM? MOM? MOM!!!!! IT'S BEEN A MINUTE ALREADY! WHERE'S OUR SNACK?!!!" and you know what...I'm kind of feelin' the Mom now.

13 Years and Counting

So, today is my 13th wedding anniversary. Ah....I so remember the day. What fun. But I realized something this morning as Hubby and I sat together on the loveseat in the kitchen, I sipping my morning java (hair a wild mess, wearing an old nightgown and thick socks, yesterday's mascara smudged underneath my eyes), he changing the channels every 5 seconds while waiting for our daughter to get ready for school. (Okay...sidebar...WHAT is the DEAL with the CHANGING of the CHANNELS, fellas? DANG! Could you leave it on one channel long enough for the person on there to get out a complete sentence? But I digress...that's a story for another day.)

Back to the thing that I realized. I remember, being a young bride and full of self-doubt and all, that sometimes my hubby would stop the TV on, you know, some kind of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition photo shoot with, let's face, completely hot bikini-clad girls on it, and I would kind of get the vibe that he was thinking, "Why isn't my wife like THAT chick?" Well...my how times have changed. This morning I got that VERY same vibe from him....but this time he was watching that saintly, soft-spoken, hair-always-just-so, house-always-clean, kids-never-fighting, I-just-ADORE-my-husband-ALL-the-time, I-wouldn't-say-"poop"-if-I-had-a-mouthful-of-it, baby-factory Duggar chick on "Eighteen Kids and Counting".

Next Time Just Say, "The World Isn't Fair. Get Over It!"

I've always prided myself on being more one of those "glass half full" types and I'm hoping that my children grow up to be the same way. Any time one of them sees something as unfair or not right or sees that someone else has it easier than they do, I always try to take the opportunity to get them to look at things from a different perspective. This, of course, means, that I feel the need to over-explain everything to them in the most complete detail to the point that even the 4 yr. old will say, "Mom, just stop talking."

This is when you know that you've lost your mind and taken it TOO far:

A few days ago, my 11-year old and I were in the car together and she picked up the baby's Strawberry Shortcake coloring book. "I gotta give it to Strawberry Shortcake. That girl always has the cutest outfits."

"Yes," I said, "they certainly are different than the ones she wore when I was younger." (If you don't know, long gone are the puffy flower dresses of days gone by. Strawberry Shortcake has WAY cool outfits now...complete with the occasional ripped jeans and belly-button baring half-shirt. Great role model for my toddler.)(No, I didn't buy the coloring book.)

"Yeah. I wish I was Strawberry Shortcake. She doesn't have to go to school."

So then I said, completely seriously, "Well, sweetie, I'm sure she goes to school. Everybody has to go to school."

"No, Mom, she doesn't. They never show her in school, just out having adventures with her friends."

(And here is EXACTLY the point where I became a complete idiot.) "Well, honey, I'm sure she goes to school. They wouldn't show her in school on the cartoons because, well, who would want to watch a cartoon about a kid at school? I'm sure that, in real life, she goes to school."

'Real life' I said. 'Real life'....in a conversation....about Strawberry Shortcake. O....m....g.

WTForty?

April 16, 2010
It's a sad day when, thanks to the preteen living in your house, you realize that 'losing your cool' no longer refers to losing your temper. You're losing your cool...and no matter how much you insert "totally" or "like" or "something'-zzle'" into a conversation, your kid will still look at you like you are pathetically behind the times. My eleven-year-old told me the other day, "Mom...you're so hard to talk to. You just don't understand this world." What? Oh, no she DIDN'T (snap my fingers three times in a Z-formation)! Well please enlighten me, Miss I'm-11-And-I've-Had-Everything-Done-For-Me-My-Entire-Life, please, please, please enlighten me as to what exactly I don't UNDERSTAND about this world, which, by the way WASN'T EVEN COOL UNTIL I GOT HERE!
I may NOT know all the new songs on the radio, I may NOT recognize some of the young starlets in Hollywood, I may NOT understand the new Middle School politics, I may NOT be used to hearing kids say "sucks, frickin', or screwed", I may NOT be able to abide bad manners, I may NOT be able to eat pizza after 7:00, I may NOT be able to read fine print, I may NOT be able get off of the floor easily, I may NOT be still be able to stay awake until Saturday Night Live comes on, but I'm STILL coo-...oh crap...wait a minute...

April 12, 2010
Thank you, hyste-WRECK-to-me, for throwing me headlong into MENOPAUSE!!! I want to send a Shout-Out (Holla!), though, to all those geniuses that came up with Premarin. Less than a week on it and already the hot flashes and night sweats are over! YES! SCORE! And, as an additional bonus, my tweezers will get to go back into the drawer in the bathroom instead of being at my beck and call beside the mirror over the sink for any time the light is good in the bathroom. His and Hers pillow cases...sexy. His and Hers luxuriously soft bathrobes...sexy. His and Hers shaving kits on the bathroom counter...not so much.