MOVING!!

Hello! And Good-Bye.

We're out of here.

DS&D has had a face lift and we're showing it off at www.dimsumanddoughnuts.com
If you're a follower, I think you need to change your "bookmark" or something like that. I don't know, just come over!

Later, blogspot. You were good to me, but it's time to move on.

Transition

My husband, Cody, owns an overnight camp for kids in Northern Michigan. It’s called Camp Tanuga. Cody and our stubby-tail Golden Retriever, Floyd, have been there for several weeks. Under normal circumstances, Sweet Pea, Lovey and I would be there too, but we're running a little late this year.

Soon enough, though, I’ll be packing up my girls, my office and my Bendel bracelets to make our summer move.

It just so happens that the DS&D site is being redecorated at the same time, so it seems like a natural point to take a blog break. I hope to be back one day soon and I hope you’ll come back too.

Be safe, be happy and if you go shopping--buy me something.

XO
~R

Was Your TV Show Canceled?

Were any of your TV shows canceled?
I’ll go first.

Brothers and Sisters: It was time. I don’t think I saw one episode from this past season. I’m not sure why. Oh, wait. I remember now. It sucked. That show was done awhile ago. What was up with the Sarah sister hooking up with the guy from…? I don’t even know where he was from. All I know is that they had no chemistry and the whole relationship was stupid. Even if you loved that show, you have to admit that relationship was all kinds of wrong and the show stunk worse than a dressing room at Loehmann's. Rob Lowe was such a smartie to jump ship when he did. It’s like they didn’t know what to do with him. They made him really mean, and then nice again, and then he died. Good for him. Death was the right choice. He’s rocking it out over at Parks and Recreation and every time he says “litrally,” he “litrally” makes me giggle.

The Defenders: I’m not going to lie. I liked it. I did. It was a CBS show. Does that make me a senior citizen? Should I get one of those bathing suit cover ups with the bikini printed on it? Should I run out and buy some coral lipstick and matching coral nail polish on the way to my early bird dinner? I know that‘s what you‘re thinking. I don’t care. I liked that show, and I’m sad to see it go.

Detroit 1-8-7: This is a tricky one for me. I watched it. I still can’t figure out if I watched it because I’m a Detroiter or if I watched it because it was good. I didn’t rush home for it but if I was folding clothes and it was on my Tivo, I was happy to see it there. I was sad when the hot cop died towards the end, but then I heard from a very reliable source that he wanted out of the show because he didn’t love living in Detroit. Screw you, hot cop. You don’t like The D? We’re over. You’re not THAT hot.

Friday Night Lights: “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can‘t Lose.” We have Direct TV so the final season has already played out. I was heartbroken when it ended. I loved that show so much that I actually contemplated scheduling shiva calls at my house when it ended. I didn’t want to grieve all by myself. Unfortunately, I don’t know too many other people who watched it so basically everyone would have been coming here to eat 7 layer cake and little brownies. Damn freeloaders. You don't understand my pain. Long live Coach Taylor and Tim Riggins. Texas Forever.

Law & Order: Los Angeles. How many Law & Orders are there? How many do you need? Give it a rest. Get a room with CSI. Jeez.

Mr. Sunshine: I kind of liked this show! The humor was a little forced at times but there were some really funny lines. I heard that Chandler, or whatever his name was on the show, is going to rehab so it got canceled. I remember when he was on Friends and he went to rehab for a pill addiction. He looked horrible during that time. He didn’t look horrible on Mr. Sunshine. He can’t need rehab too badly. I refuse to accept this cancellation.

Off The Map: I tried to watch it because the QB from Friday Night Lights was on it but it was so bad that even he couldn’t save it. Off the Map was just plain crap.

Running Wilde: I wanted to love this show because Will Arnett is so great. Unfortunately the show wasn’t. TV needs to find a place for Will Arnett. He’s really funny. Nothing makes me happier than when he and Alec Baldwin have a scene together on 30 Rock. TV needs Will Arnett. Can't FOX just bring back  Arrested Development?

Are you sad about any shows being canceled or do you think this is my dumbest post ever? Were you surprised by any of the cancellations? What do you think about Ashton Kutcher likely taking over for Sheen on Two and a Half Men? Do you you have a TV? 

Ode To Prednisone

A Little Poem...

I have lower back pain, and although I try to deal
It makes for a rough day and I miss shoes with a heel.

For my back discomfort I blame my dad
It’s a problem he always had.

If it's in the genes, then I have no fear
for my kid from China--she's probably in the clear.

You know what? That's so not fair
She already has great hair.

She's totally getting a free pass
Instead of driving me crazy, she should be kissing my ass.

Back pain hurts--it really, really sucks
Especially because my littler one still needs to be picked up.

The doc put me on prednisone, aren’t I lucky?
I’ll never poop again and my face is getting puffy.

I also have to do physical therapy thrice a week
Who’s got time for that? Not me.

I was hoping for a guy therapist, someone who's hot
But I met her yesterday, and she's not.

Look at that, time for another pill
I’m starting to look like Ryan O’Neal.

I saw a commercial for a drug I wanted to try
But one of the side effects mentioned was “thoughts of suicide.”

Suicide? No, I don’t think so
Shaq has a better chance of shooting a free throw.

Yes, that line is from an Eminem song--I’m his biggest fan
Sometimes my husband calls me “Stan.”

I think that I am no longer making sense
Time to put this stupid poem to rest.

My back hurts so it’s a good time to be over
Getting older sure is a blowzer.

Are We Closing The Book On Bookstores?

The movie You’ve Got Mail (1998) was primarily about love blooming over the internet even though the lead characters were business rivals in real life. It also explored the demise of the independent book store at a time when “mega” bookstores were first starting to take over. It’s a solid example of art imitating life. Borders and Barnes & Noble bookstores were popping up all over the place, king kong’ing many (if not all) of the small, local bookstores that stood in their way.

I remember getting angry as Meg Ryan’s character walked through the “Fox Books” super bookstore. It was a big store and, to me, uninviting. Sure, it boasted nice discounts, fancy coffee drinks and more variety, but it lacked the charm and warmth of “The Shop Around The Corner.“ I pointed at that “Fox Books“ and thought to myself: You big bully bookstores! You just wait. You’ll get yours one day!

Well, I think that day is here.

I was in a Borders bookstore the other day and it felt like the place was on life support. I got what I came for and I was out of there. Though one of the employees assured me that they weren’t yet on the list of stores to close, I felt like death was at the door and I had no intention of being there for the flatline.

Did I originally wish so many years ago that the large bookstore chains would all go out of business? Yes, but that was only because, as far as I was concerned, it was their fault that the local ones were going under. If we lose all of the big book stores (because at least in my area that’s really all that’s left) where will we be?

There was a Barnes & Noble not far from my house that I didn’t hate. I actually spent a lot of time there. I would have preferred a smaller, more quaint bookstore, but probably because of that Barnes & Noble, there weren’t any around. Being left with no other choice, I enjoyed my fair share of vanilla lattes and made friends with the employee who had a bar through his nose and a ton of tattoos I didn‘t understand.

After that one closed, I defaulted to a Borders that was a little farther away. As of just recently, it’s also gonzo and that bummed me out because it had a totally cool stage in the children's section where my girls jumped around like pogo sticks and made best friends with  kids they‘d never see again. It wasn't too bad there. My girls were happy and I could watch over them with one eye while browsing through books and toys with the other.

And the store I was just in-- no, I don’t love that one, but it’s now the closest one to my house and I’m starting to get desperate. Unfortunately, if it were a person, it would have a broken hip, a breathing tube and a poop bag. The days are numbered over there. I’m sure of it.

Why is this happening? (That is actually a rhetorical question because I think I actually know the answer--and not only that, but I think I‘m partly to blame). What would you say if I said that I think the mortality of the mega stores has something to do with websites such as amazon.com and wireless reading devices such as the Kindle or the Nook? Would you agree or no?

It’s so easy and convenient to order a book (used or new) from Amazon.com, or websites such as that one. I’m guilty. So guilty. But I still buy from bookstores too. Don’t take those away from me! I haven’t caved completely. I haven’t gotten a Kindle or a Nook. At least I’m still buying actual books. Doesn’t that count for something?

Are we closing in on the end of bookstores? I think we might be and that makes me very sad. I guess I could go rent You’ve Got Mail at Blockbuster to make myself feel better…oh wait, I almost forgot. I can’t.

Sheryl Crow: Irony or Insurance Policy

Sweet Pea, my four year old, has a CD that she has had since we got her from China. I don’t remember who gave it to her but it’s a mixed CD and she still plays it quite frequently. There are only a few sucky songs so I don’t really mind. The opening song is by Sheryl Crow. I love Sheryl Crow. The song is called “Light In Your Eyes" and the lyrics go like this:

You gotta talk to the One who made you
Talk to the One who understands
Talk to the One who gave you
All the light in your eyes
All the light in your eyes


Crow: I don’t know, Wyatt…you gotta talk to the one who made you.

Or maybe she recorded it as a safety net for herself so when Wyatt inevitably pulls some crap in the future, she can say You know what, Wyatt? I’m done. I give up. Someone else needs to take over. You need to go talk to the one who made you.

 Can someone find out the deal? I want to know.

 

I wonder if Sheryl Crow recorded this song before Wyatt not knowing that she was going to eventually adopt a kid. If that is the case, she might have some explaining to do if he one day holds up the CD and says: I want to talk to the one who made me--you said I could.

I don’t know the dynamics of their relationship to Wyatt’s birth mother, maybe they’re in touch with her. In our case, we have no info on Sweet Pea's birth mother so I can tell you that if Sweet Pea comes to me with that same request, my response will probably be something like: “Good luck with that.”

Maybe Sheryl Crow recorded the song before adopting, knowing that she was going to adopt, and now she has a sort of insurance policy against all mother-son questions that Wyatt may ask in the future:

Wyatt: Why do windows and vases break when I sing? Why don’t I have great, flippy hair? Why don’t I have a killer body at 40-something?

Acceptable Bullying?

Yesterday when I was doing the morning drive drop-off, I got to hear a little Drew and Mike in the Morning in between snippets of a song coming from Sweet Pea, my four year old, in the back seat. Sweet Pea was singing something about how her daddy likes to eat bagels in the bathroom (he doesn’t) and Drew and Mike were reviewing audio of a kid from a Milford, MI high school. The kid was talking about how his days are filled with relentless bullying. (The Justin Bieber t-shirt he insists on wearing probably isn’t doing him any favors, but I know that’s not the point).

When I got home, I grabbed the mail from day before and although I was short on time, I somehow found myself flipping through the latest issue of People, Style Watch magazine. I landed on Tim Gunn’s Who Got It Right? segment. It was then that I realized that bullying doesn’t necessarily only happen face to face and it doesn’t necessarily end when we become adults. It seems to me that there is a “Bully Spectrum” and it ranges from “Horrible” to “Acceptable.”

In the magazine, Tim Gunn complimented Keri Hilson’s outfit (whoever the hell she is) while shredding Vanessa Hudgens’s. He said that Hudgens's printed dress and jacket were "fighting with each other." It so happens that he was right and even I sighed while looking at Hudgens’s outfit, but I’m also not putting it in print for thousands and thousands of people to see. I was thinking it to myself and then yes, I may have mentioned something to my daughter, Lovey. I may have said something to her about how Hudgens might want to invest in a full length mirror, but that doesn’t really count because Lovey is 23 months old and she doesn’t even know what freakin' day it is.

I felt bad for Hudgens. I’m sure she thought she looked really cute before Tim Gunn gunned her down. I imagine her feelings were hurt when she opened the magazine to see herself next to Hilson with a comment about how Hilson’s outfit worked and hers didn’t.

Just because Gunn’s hurtful (albeit truthful) comments are placed within the pages of a magazine, does that mean that it‘s not actually bullying? Or is it a form of bullying, just a more “acceptable“ form?

What if he had done it like this instead? What if he had put up a picture of two people wearing tiaras and let the reader decide who got it right while leaving his own comments out?

WHO GOT IT RIGHT?

Is that a better idea? I truly don't know. I just know that bullying is everywhere and if we can't figure out where it starts, I don't know how the hell we're going to make it stop.

"Hello? Is I.P. Freeley home?"

The other day I got a text from my cousin, "Gisele" (I wonder why she picked that blog name?) and she said that her son just learned the following tune from one of his friends: “Milk, milk, lemonade--around the corner fudge is made!”

Did you sing that when you were a kid? I did. In fact, I used to sing it with Gisele. It was a good song; I might start singing it again. We also used to do “Me Chinese, me play joke, me go pee pee in your coke” but that one is off limits because I have a daughter from China and she is, for the most part, potty trained. In any event, that little fudge packing ditty prompted me to start thinking about all the fun things Gisele and I used to do.

We spent many Saturday nights with a bowl of cheetos, the White Pages and a phone. What else did we need? We weren’t sitting on opposite ends of the couch playing some handheld video game with different colored bricks all by ourselves--no we were not. If we weren’t yelling “You sunk my battleship!” or beating each others asses at Connect 4, we were making phony phone calls and we were doing it together.

Kids these days think they have it so good with all of their electronic gadgets, but they don’t know. How can a sleepover be fun unless you make at least one or two attempts to call Jenny at 867-5309? Or what about that restaurant with the cute bus boy? Is it no longer hilarious to call there, ask for him and when he picks up say: "Is your refrigerator running?"

When did kids become too cool for fun?

When my girls are ready for sleepovers, I’m going to load them up with oreos, give them our home phone, and arm them with the caller ID blocker number. Then I’m going to have them call my old English professor who hated me because one time when he said "Does anyone have any questions?" I raised my hand and asked why he insisted on saying “aw-yillery” instead of “auxiliary." I am going to have them call THAT guy, and when he answers (and he will because if he's not dead, he'll be home) I will have them say: “Hi, is this Craven Moorehead? Are you Craven Moorehead?"

And then they will crack up, eat 17 oreos and it will be the best sleepover EVER.
　

Happy Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day. It's a very special day in which we honor mothers, grandmothers and stepmothers--unless you're a wicked stepmother and then you don’t get honored, but you do get representation in almost every Disney movie.

On this day, I'd like to take a moment to wish one mother in particular a very Happy Mother's Day: Sweet Pea’s birth mother. (Sorry, mom, I know you thought it was going to be you. You’re good too. Bang up job on both of your kids, really nice work).

I don’t know the circumstances surrounding Sweet Pea’s birth mother’s decision to give up her daughter. Maybe she was waiting for a son. Maybe she already had a child and the one child rule in China prevented her from having another. Maybe she wasn’t married. I don’t know. I just know that a very selfless mother in a country very far away brought my child into this world and I imagine this day can’t be easy for her.

I went into the adoption under the impression that we were doing something really great and really commendable. We were going to free Sweet Pea from the orphanage and give her a better life. But in the end, it was Sweet Pea who gave us a better life. The moment she was put into my arms, she transformed a couple into a family, she became a sister to Floyd, and two years later, she became a big sister to Lovey.

And she made me a mother.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there who, like me, are doing the best that they can do. I hope you get fat ass, crazy expensive presents and maybe a minute to yourself today. And Happy Mother’s Day to Sweet Pea’s birth mother, who gave me the best gift of all.
　
　

Baby, It's Cold Outside

I was at lunch the other day with my girlfriend, Busy, and as the hostess was seating us, she and Busy simultaneously started complaining about the weather. It was unseasonably cold that day and they had every right to complain. The thing is, the hostess started to tell us that she had a friend who was vacationing in Florida (I don't remember all the details because I was way more interested in looking over the menu so I could feed my fat face) and she was hoping that her friend would bring some good weather back with her.

Let me repeat: She was hoping that her friend would bring some good weather back with her. Stop right there.

NO ONE IS BRINGING WEATHER HOME WITH THEM. 

You can't bring weather anywhere. It's impossible. You may be a mother, but you're not Mother Nature. You can bring a t-shirt. You can bring a sea shell (but not for me, thanks). You can even bring a little bag of pretzels if you're lucky enough to get some on your flight, but no one is bringing back weather.

No one is ever allowed to ever say that ever again.
No? OK. I tried.

Stamp Of Approval V

The following things are OK
(At least as far as I'm concerned)

It's OK if you don't belong to a country club. Just make sure you have a friend who does. That way you get to have all the fancy fun with none of the demanding dues.

It's OK if you can't fold a fitted sheet. No one can.

It's OK if you accidentally stepped on a toy and broke it. It's even OK that you acted all sorry even though you really weren't because secretly you hated that toy and you're happy to see it go.

It's OK if your reason for not driving a Minivan is because you know random guys probably won't check you out any more.

It's OK if you use the 3 second rule for more than just food--like that car in front of you that hasn't moved even though the light is green. Tap that horn and give that car a little reminder. "Let's get it on, pal. That light ain't gonna get any greener."

It's OK if you are steadfast about your bra and undies matching everyday. You could get into an accident and you don't want to be remembered by the fireman and police officers as the lady whose bra and undies didn't match. That is just no way to be remembered.

The Lesser Tiger Mom

I won't ever be able to write a song that disses my mom for popping vikes or bashes my dad for being absent because my parents weren’t like that. They showed up when it came to parenting-- it didn't matter what they were going through at the time, they showed up. And they were good parents.

Not all parents are like that.

My parents instilled self confidence without encouraging arrogance. They promoted self- worth without compromising reality. They raised me to focus on what I had to offer, even on the days when I felt I didn't have much. They knew I felt the need to overcompensate for my shortcomings but they worked with me so I would grow out of that.

There is nothing worse than some guy who thinks he is The Man but he only talks about himself and he wears his golf shirt tucked ALL THE WAY into his jeans without pulling it out a just little bit to give it that much needed belly front fluff, or some girl in her 30’s who feels the need to tell anyone who will listen that her Aunt Rita is friends with the mom of a kid who goes to school with one of Eminem's daughers.

My parents didn't want me to be like that.

I just needed to do what I could do and do it to the best of my ability, and that would be enough. They knew what I was capable of and those were the boundaries they abided by. When I complained incessantly that I couldn’t deal with the spit that got caught in the mouth piece of the clarinet, my mom eventually let me quit. She knew I was much better suited for dance and tennis and let me do what I loved. Tiger Mom she was not, but she fostered my development and pushed my potential just enough so that I would, one day, emerge to be exactly who I am. And I’m good with who I am.

I want to do the same with my girls. I want to find that balance. But what if the talent they are looking to be praised for doesn‘t exist? When do the lines of being supportive and being honest cross?

My 4 year old daughter, Sweet Pea, made me a picture the other day and after she gave it to me she said “Mommy, I made this for you. Isn't it beautiful? It's Snow White, Snow White and Lovey (her little sister). What do you think?”　 　

What do I think? Well, it's beautiful to me because I'm the mommy but I don't think it's going to get my girl any scholarships. It's definitely lacking in some areas, I mean, look at the one that is supposed to be Lovey. What the hell is that all about?

Sweet Pea is so great at so many things and I’m not worried about her future for one minute. (Unless, of course, she decides to become an artist. If that is the case, in front of the word “Artist” it might say “Starving.”) Of course I don’t have to worry about this now. She’s four. But it's inevitable that as my girls get older, things will come up that require me to momentarily park them on their path to becoming the functional and productive adults they're meant to be.

Sweet Pea might walk into the kitchen and tell us that she wants to play for the New York Jets or Lovey might decide that she wants to be a supermodel. I don’t want to be the one to step on their spirit or crush their confidence, but I also don’t want to pump them full of false hope.

Sweet Pea will likely get defensive when I tell her that the Jets probably won’t be interested in her for several reasons (the main one being that she’s not a guy) and I’m pretty certain that Lovey will be sad when I tell her it might be a good idea to look into something else since supermodels are very tall and her Jew genes probably won’t get her past 5’3. Things like that (or worse) will come up, and when they do I will show up. It‘s my job to be real about their capabilities, and when it's necessary, I will do just that. I'm not a tiger mom, but I am a mom.

That day is not today though. That day is another day. Today my daughter isn't setting goals or making life choices. Today she is just giving a beautiful picture to her mommy.

Teach Them Well

Thanks to everyone who participated in the DS&D Blog Contest. Below is the winning topic I chose to write about:

How about pre-school kids getting kicked out because they are screaming, due to anxiety? What a horrible injustice it is to them. How they then feel that they can scream and get out of everything! How poorly some teachers handle things because they are not educated...

When Whitney Houston said “I believe the children are our future,“ she was right. Granted, she also said “crack is whack“ while she was a raging crackhead so she might not be the most credible person to refer to, but since crack really is whack, I guess she'll do.

Children are our future.  That is why I keep a lot of candy in my house. I want kids to like me. I’m going to need them one day. I may be the authority figure in their eyes now, but that won’t last. It won’t be long before they’re running the show and I’m so old that my doctor is using a forklift for my facelift and my birth certificate says “expired.”

Have you ever been driving along, minding your own business, when all of the sudden some old lady pulls out in front of you only to drive really, really slow? What do you do? What else can you do but vehemently shake your head, bust a vein in your forehead, hold your hands up in the air, and yell “Can you pick it up, grandma?” Next time you do that, keep this in mind: You will be that “grandma” before you know it and some guy is going to do the same thing when you’re going really slow. It won’t happen to me because I gave him candy, but it will happen to you.

Our country depends on the kids who will one day be driving behind us and if those kids don’t have good teachers now, we’re in big, big trouble.

I don’t know of anyone who thinks teachers are compensated fairly. Children may be our future but teachers are my heroes. The pay they receive doesn’t accurately reflect the importance of their job and I don’t care if they do have their summers off, they still work harder than most everyone who makes more than them. School may end at 3:00 or so, but that‘s not the end of their day. Many teachers are doing extra-curricular activities while others are working on lesson plans or correcting the work handed in that day.

For good teachers, teaching can be a thankless job. Sure, they get an apple every now and then but come on, that apple can’t make up for all the crap they take on a daily basis--even if it‘s one of those big, yellow Golden Delicious apples, and those are really good.

But not all teachers are good teachers. Some are bad. Like blowzerama bad and considering that they’re working with kids who are going to have a lot of say about what happens to us one day, that is not good. Notwithstanding the fact that teachers don’t make jack, they’re overworked and they’re underappreciated, they did, still and all, sign up for the job. I don’t care what kind of job you have, have some freakin’ self respect and do it to the best of your ability or get out. I feel strongest about that statement if that job is teaching because that is pretty much the most important job there is. That’s where it all starts.

It all starts with the teachers.

I’m not saying teachers can’t bitch about their jobs, I totally would, and as far as I’m concerned, the better the teacher, the more room they’re allowed for bitching. But if you’re not a good teacher, hit the bricks. You didn’t get into the profession for the cash or the notoriety so what were you expecting? There are lots of people who are waiting for your job and not only would they be thrilled to get it, they’d probably rock it out.

Now, I don’t know the whole story about the little kid who was kicked out of pre-school for crying but I’m picturing two sides of the story:

The Side of the Parent:
You just kicked my kid out for crying and clearly he has anxiety about something. Plus, he’s in pre-school. That is what little kids do. They cry and whine and scream. How about drawing on something you learned in school instead of kicking him out? Now I have to figure out what to do with my kid while I’m working and not only that, but thanks to you and your blatant laziness in teaching, he now thinks he can get away with all kinds of crap just because he is crying and screaming. What is my kid being taught from all of this? Nothing good. Thanks a lot, bad teacher. I’m never giving you a Golden Delicious apple.

The Side of the Teacher:
I’m sorry that I had to unload your kid, but I have lots of other kids in my class and your kid is making my job very difficult. I’m a teacher, not a glorified babysitter. How can I effectively teach the kids who aren’t crying and screaming while your kid is having a anxiety attack at the glue and popsicle stick table?

Am I close? And if I am, who's right?　

Contest!!

I'm holding a contest!!

This is my first one. I'm excited. It's not hard and if it were me, I would totally enter.

Here's the deal:
I feel like I don't know a lot of you because our relationship is very one-sided. I do all the talking "Blah Blah Blah" and then I leave. Not only do I do all the talking, but I pick the topic too. Who wants to be friends with somene like that? How about YOU pick the topic and then I'll do all the talking and then I'll leave? It's not the most ideal relationship, I agree, but it's something.

I want to know what YOU want to hear about.

Pretend like we're at lunch and you have something to say. Get it out. You pick the topic and you start. You say what you want to say and then I'll take it from there. I promise to be honest and forthwright. Basically, I'll be the same as I always am. If you'd prefer to just throw down a topic, and not elaborate on it, that is good too. Maybe other people will comment after I go and then it will be like a big lunch, not just me and you. Then you will be happy because it will mean that other people want to have lunch with you.

RULES:

Contest Dates:
Starts now, Easter Sunday 8:00 AM (Happy Easter, by the way)
Ends Wednesday, April 27th at noon.
All topics must be submitted by then.

Body of Topic
Your idea could look like this:
Hi Robyn. I think you should talk about how awesome everyone thinks Eminem's latest album Recovery is even though, in reality, it's really not his best. The good songs are REALLY strong, I could listen to "WTP," "No Love" and "Untitled" all day, but there are a few songs that would be blowzer central if they didn't have the strong hook. I think America likes a good comeback story because his Relapse album was scary bad. I also think that everyone on his payroll lives up his ass and the critics have found their way up there too.

Your idea could also look like this:
Hi Robyn. I think you should talk about germs. How do you feel about kids and germs?

Your idea should not look like this:
Hi Robyn. YOU SUCK AND SO DOES YOUR BLOG.


There are 3 ways to enter the contest:
1. You can leave your idea as a comment on this blog entry.

2. You can leave your idea on the Dim Sum and Doughnuts Facebook page (Just click on the Facebook badge on the right of this blog home page, it will take your over there--there are some cute pics and videos there too).

3. You can leave your idea on my Twitter page (you can get there by clicking on the twitter icon on my blog home page). I'm new to Twitter so I don't have any cute videos.

Prize
Why else play? I will send you a prize for sure! But there's a catch. I know, I'm sorry. I can only mail within the Continental U.S. I'm so sorry. I know I have readers from all kinds of really cool countries, and you guys are my favorite because you're so exotic with your cool accents and stuff but I just can't mail to you. If you don't want to play, I understand. If you still choose to play, I'll make a donation to a charity in your name and I'll say really good things about you.

How the winner will be chosen
I have a list of topics saved up for the blog. Ideas come to me all the time. I'm looking for something that I haven't already thought of. I want to know what you guys are thinking about and honestly, I also want to see if I can write about it.

Questions
I know I have a rule that I won't comment on comments but if you genuinely have a question, leave it on the blog, the FB page or on Twitter. I promise I'll get back to you.

If you have anything, anything at all, bring it on. Don't doubt yourself. Look at the crazy stuff I write about. I'll take anything!

Good luck.
PS. The prize is cute. I got one for me so I decided to get one for you too.
If a guy wins, you'll get a different prize than the "cute" one. I promise it won't suck.

~R

Self Reliance

When the Seal song If You Don‘t Know Me By Now came on the radio the other day, my 4 year old daughter Sweet Pea said: “Mommy, I don’t like this song.”

You know why you don’t like it, Sweet Pea? BECAUSE IT BLOWS.

Why did Seal do a remake of that song? I don't get it. Was his label pushing him with a release date for the album and he ran out of time? Maybe he was just too busy with his hot wife and 20 kids to do another song, so he fell back on a cover tune. Whatever his reasons, it made me sad when I heard it. Seal was good. He is good. I expected more from him. The song doesn't make him stand out all (at least not in a good way) and what‘s more, his version didn't seem to be any different (or as good) as the original.

Artists have been doing covers for as long as I can remember. Madonna took a stab at American Pie (you blew that one, Madge), Brittany tried I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll (poor, misguided, raised-by-Hollywood Brittany), and the song Landslide has been done by pretty much everyone but me.

There is one song out right now that is really bugging the crap out of me though. Daughtry (he is no longer Chris Daughtry in case you didn't know--he is just Daughtry) and Santana have come out with a remake of the classic Def Leppard song Photograph.

My first issue is inconsequential but I have to get it out: Santana is listed as the artist. I don't like that. He is not the artist. He didn’t write the song and he’s not singing it. He’s playing an instrument, yes, but I don’t understand how that makes him the artist. Stop it, Santana!

My second issue is this: Photograph? Why, Daughtry? Why'd you do it? There was nothing wrong with the orig. Nothing. Was it Santana's idea? Is that it? He hasn't done much lately, maybe he talked you into it. Do you just love that song? Is that why you did it? It is a good song, I agree. Was there a real need for a new version though? I don‘t think so. I go out sometimes and I never heard anyone say “Don’t you think it’s time for a remake of Photograph?" And do know why I have never heard anyone say that? Because no one ever has. You must have a Donald Trump size ego if you think you can do Photograph better than Def Leppard. By the way, you can't.

But besides questioning Daughtry‘s reasons for singing Photograph, the other question I find myself asking is this: Why is it being played? What does that say about the radio stations choosing to play the song, and what does it say about current music that is being released?

I’m all about taking a song and doing something completely different with it. I haven't watched American Idol this season, but there have been contestants in the past who have done remakes that have rocked the house. Or, once in awhile a cover comes along that is crazy good. Jimi Hendrix's All Along The Watchtower and  Jeff Buckly's Hallelujah are both solidly awesome, but let's face it-- in most cases, original songs are usually better.

I love that Sweet Pea, of all people, busted Seal’s cover wide open. She has never heard Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes sing it, or Simply Red (that's who I originally thought sang it) but she knows what’s up. She comes up with crazy outfits and fun hair styles and little sayings and she rocks them all with confidence and attitude. One day she will want to dress the same, talk the same and do the same things as her friends because, at a certain age, kids just want to blend in. But I hope she maintains her originality and continues to do her own thing on some level because to me, she is the original.

Birth Day

My daughter, Sweet Pea, is four years old today. When she busted into our bedroom at 7AM, she informed us that today is her birthday-- you know, in case we weren’t sure.

Me: Weren‘t you just a baby yesterday? When did you become four years old?
Sweet Pea: At 7:00!

She then asked us why she wasn’t big. Do you remember wanting to know the same thing when you were little? I do. Every year on my birthday, I would wake up bummed that I wasn’t taller, or disappointed that I didn’t feel older.

I still don’t notice physical change so much. I never seem to notice until after it has happened. You know what I'm talking about: The scars we have accumulated fade when we’re not looking and the wrinkles pop up when we’re not paying attention. I have, however, noticed that I haven’t been as preoccupied with checking for my own changes because I’m too busy witnessing all the changes in my kids. And the changes are happening, fast.

On this day, Sweet Pea’s 4^th birthday, my wish is for everything to stay the way it is now--forever. But I don’t get a wish today, it’s not my birthday. I wonder if I can somehow con Sweet Pea into using my wish? She won’t though. She’ll wish for an Ariel costume or a Beauty and The Beast DVD. My wish is really good, but she won’t want anything to do with my wish.

I’ll just have to save it for my birthday. But don't tell anyone, because then it won't come true.

Gavel Grabbers

The other day I was pulling out of my daughter’s pre-school when I noticed a car pulling in. Pick up is at 2:00. That driver was late. I couldn’t tell if she was stressed and anxious or if she was calm and apathetic. I just knew that she was late. I shook my head slowly, sighed softly and proceeded with the judging process. I’d like to know what she was doing that made her so late to pick up her kid? What is she so busy with that she can’t be there at 2:00?

I drove away doing the hair flip of self righteous complacency since I was, of course, on time. The fact that I was late the day before has no relevance here. I'm sure some of the moms  judged me that day, but whatever. I had a good reason for being a little late and also--it was me. 

Before I became a mother, one of my friends let me in on something very interesting. She said: You will never feel more judged than you will as a mother.

Now that I am, indeed, a mother, I feel I am in a good position to report the following:
1. I agree.
2. I don’t care.

If you’re not sure whether or not others are judging you, let me tell you this--they are. Not everyone, and not all the time--but a lot of people, a lot of the time. These people are lifting their eyebrows at the grocery store, questioning your parenting techniques while your kid is having a total freak-out in the candy aisle, they’re sitting by you at the school play thinking you should have given that gingham midriff top a little more consideration before leaving the house, and they’re throwing figurative stones in the car pool pick-up line when you show up late.

Who among us doesn’t judge, and who among us is free from judgment?

I believe we are all guilty of grabbing the gavel every once in awhile. It’s human nature to judge. And if, in fact, we all do it, it stands to reason that it’s going to come back our way at one point or another. We judge and we are being judged.

Some people care that they are being judged and some people do not. For those who don’t care, as long as you’re not stepping on others to get what you want or ignoring the basic standards of common decency, good for you. High five. In my opinion, not caring is a much easier way to live.

For those of you who do care, be nice. I have found that if you’re a nice person, people are less likely to judge you. Being nice is judgment kryptonite. It’s harder for judgers to judge nice people because if the one judging has even the slightest conscious, they will feel bad ripping on a nice person. Wear those white patent leather boots to a PTA meeting, show off that tramp stamp during parent/teacher conferences, it doesn’t matter--you’re safe behind your shield of niceness--and if someone dares to judge someone as nice as you, that person is a bitch. And trust me, everyone knows it, including, but not limited to, the bitch herself.

Bitches use judging as a pastime. I know people like this; people with really bad energy. They're out there. Judging is one of their basic traits. Smugness shows on their faces, criticism permeates their social interactions, and for the most part, what they have to say (about pretty much everything) is negative. But know this, bitches--you’re also getting shredded right and left. You’re getting it because there are so many who feel you deserve it and let’s face it, you probably do. You started it. Bitches.

I don’t know why some of us care about what others think and why some of us don’t. Not caring may come with age and exhaustion, or it could be that it’s just an innate part of certain personalities. For many (myself included) as our families grew bigger, our social circles grew smaller so now the only people we truly care about are those coveted few in our inner circle. And those are the ones who love us for all that we are, and all that we come with, without passing judgment.

But some people just can't help but care what the peripherals think. It does seem that caring would be a very natural response, but speaking from a purely cognitive and logical place, I have to ask: Why? Besides wasting your time and energy, what's it doing for you? I'll be you a Birken bag that it's doing nothing, well nothing productive. If you're a good person, who cares what anything else thinks? Chances are the person judging you doesn't know you and you're just the unsuspecting victim of a drive-by judging--or maybe the judger is a miserable bitter sister who is trying to make herself feel better about her own life. Who knows?

Bottom Line: If you feel the need to judge someone, I‘m not going to tell you not to, it’s human nature, we all do it a times--but also know that you, too, are vulnerable to the same thing. You’re going to be judged whether you ask for it or not. If you’re a bitch, you’re asking for it. If you’re not, you’re a bit safer, but still, not totally safe. We will never change the fact that people judge, but we can control how much or how little we actually care.

Stop The Madness

There is an epidemic sweeping our nation. An LOL epidemic. It’s in our emails, our Facebook pages, our t-shirts (not mine), our text messages, everywhere.

To my knowledge, LOL is internet slang for laugh out loud. It’s quite the compliment when someone responds to something you’ve written with “LOL.” Receiving a “HAHAHA!” or “You’re so funny!“ is also pretty good because your humor has been acknowledged, but a full-fledged LOL response means that you actually made your reader laugh out loud. Nice work.

Somewhere along the way, however, people have started to use LOL with reckless abandon. They drop it arbitrarily and haphazardly in places where it doesn‘t belong, they use it within their own dialogue and, perhaps most importantly, they are using it when they’re not really laughing out loud.

We are living within the generational throws of LOL anarchy. Our social mediums are being overtaken due to a total lack of absence of enforced authority. We can either take cover and maintain current conditions, or we can move forward towards some sense of order and control.

Do I stand alone amidst this virtual LOL free-for-all? Am I the only one who feels that LOL is not being used as it was once intended? Could it be?

Could it be just me?

Allow me to offer up some of the offenses I have witnessed and some of the offenders with whom I take issue:

Part 1: The Offenses

1. Placing LOL within a comment or a sentence is risky. For those of you who insist on taking this risk (don‘t look around, you know who you are), I would like to know if you are really sitting there laughing out loud? No, you are not. I don’t care how funny you are, you are not sitting there LOL’ing at something you wrote.

2. I find it to be extremely presumptuous to end a sentence with LOL. A simple smiley face emoticon works wonders in these instances. You’re getting your point across with a smile instead of forcing funny. Plus, I feel like you're telling me that you’re laughing at what you wrote and I should too. Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not the boss of me. You don’t get to tell me that what you wrote is funny. I get to tell YOU if it’s funny. And if it is, I will respond by writing LOL. Not you. Me.

3. Ending your sentence with LOL doesn’t automatically make it funny. OK? It doesn’t. Quit relying on LOL to make you, your comment or your sentence funny. It won’t.

Part 2: The Offenders

1. Some people are LOL Two-fers (i.e. they write a sentence with not one but two LOL’s in it, one in the middle of the sentence and one at the end). These sentences usually have a lot of “…” and they look something like this: I saw Joe at the store today…he totally looked at me…LOL…I bet he never calls though ..LOL. Nothing is funny and no one is laughing out loud. Cut it out, Two-fers!

2. The Nervous LOL’er. I see this quite a bit. The Nervous LOL’er ends something they’ve written with LOL because they’re not entirely confident in what they wrote. They are socially anxious people, but they still want to be part of the conversation. They hope that if the reader finds no humor in their comment, at the very least they’ll think it’s just a joke because it was concluded with LOL. Nervous LOL’ers use LOL as their wing man but I say: Go solo. Lose LOL. Let your freak flag fly.

3. It’s bad when moms use LOL, but it’s not the worst. I’m going to go so far as to say that moms are borderline acceptable LOL offenders. Maybe I’m biased, but I feel that moms sacrifice so much they deserve a little LOL leeway. If you are a mom who drives a minivan, wears mom jeans and has the mom bob, you get the LOL nod (you have to embody all three though). You are hereby permitted to use LOL in your sentences, but doing it sparingly would be appreciated. If you really feel that something you have written is funny, go for it, mama. Put that Town and Country in PARK, pull those LEE jeans up and LOL your ass off.

4. Are you a single woman looking for a relationship? Care to guess how I feel about you using LOL in your sentences? If you are looking to hook up with someone who is a total dork, you should definitely do it. If you want someone who is cool, then outside of a response to something that elicits an actual laugh, I would tread carefully. If, however, you find the man you are going to marry by peppering your sentences with LOL, let me know and I will graciously retract this. But if he also uses LOL in his sentences, you have not only cancelled each other out, but your dispute is denied and my statement still stands.

5. Are you a guy? Are you a married or single guy? Actually, I don’t really care. If you are a guy who uses LOL for anything other than as a reply to someone who legitimately made you laugh, you need to stop. You're a guy. You don’t get to use LOL in your written dialogue EVER. Well, maybe sometimes? NO. Never. REPLY ONLY. You also need to throw out your old, faded grey sweatpants that have pockets on the sides. I know you have them. You’re totally the type.

In conclusion, most all of us are guilty (not me) of one or more LOL violations. It’s not your fault. LOL has been virtually on its own since its inception with no one to govern its usage or define its rules. But thanks to me generously providing some very basic LOL guidelines and the wherewithal to proceed on course, you are now armed with the necessary means to move forward (with caution).

It’s time to give LOL a permanent home as the acronym that represents real laughter--and that is all. "HAHAHA," "You're so funny!" and smiley face emoticons aren't getting the attention they deserve while LOL is being used more than it should in ways that it shouldn’t. It’s up to us to put an end to these LOL violations. We can do it. Spread the word. Stop the madness.

It Takes A Village

I'm sure you've heard the saying “It takes a village to raise a child.” It’s an old African proverb. Did you think Hillary Clinton was the first one to say it? If you did, you are wrong, but that makes me happy because now you think I am very smart.

As a parent, I am all about the "village" mentality. I'm always gathering parental information from others, and if I feel it will assist me in raising my girls, I use it.

I was at a cocktail party not long ago and I ran into my girlfriend, Jax. Jax has two daughters and unless they are a family of liars, the girls get along really well. I want my girls to be like that. Let me re-phrase. I want my older one (Sweet Pea) to love my younger one (Lovey) like that. Lovey already lives for Sweet Pea, but if Sweet Pea had her way, Lovey would be living with you.

Listen, I get it. It’s normal to pick on the younger sibling. I was mean to my brother when we were little (like really mean) and I see a lot of me in Sweet Pea. "But how can that be? She’s adopted!" Dude, trust me, spend five minutes with her and you will forget all about that adoption thing. She is ME. I'm not sure if you read “Bribery in Disguise,” an entry from back in February, but if you did, you know that I actually had to develop a game in order to bribe Sweet Pea to be nice to Lovey. The game helped, it actually helped a lot, but not enough. It seems there is a lot of meanness to go around, and Sweet Pea still manages to conjure up just enough to worry me.

Back to Jax. She gave me a little tip and I’ve been using it. She said that the first thing she does when her girls wake up is ask them, “Who’s your best friend?” and then both girls say that the other is their best friend. I wasted no time and tried it with my soon-to-be 4 year old, Sweet Pea, the next morning. When I asked her "Who's your best friend?" she replied that I was her best friend. I was so honored and so happy that I was kind of done. But then I remembered that not everything is about me, so I went back and explained that Lovey is really her best friend and we tried it again. Sweet Pea got it right the second time.

I then moved on to my 21 month old daughter, Lovey. I asked: "Who's your best friend?" Lovey got it right the first time--that is if turning around in circles while pulling your pants down and laughing maniacally means “Sweet Pea is my best friend.” Clearly she’s not quite ready for this type of discussion, but I’ll keep trying with her because I am convinced that reinforcing the sisterly bond and discussing its value will eventually make a difference. Thanks, Jax. Love the tip. Good to have you in the village.

My friend, Tess, has a daughter who is two years older than Sweet Pea. Tess is a few steps ahead of me and always dispensing invaluable parenting tips. She mentioned a good one once and I'm sure she doesn’t even remember. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t read this anyway. Some crap about how her eyes hurt when she reads a computer screen. Nice friend. Get glasses.

Tess told me that when I read to my kids I should point out what I’m reading. For example, “Blah blah blah, something that rhymes, and the bike is red…” While I read the words “the bike is red” I should be pointing to the red bike in order to authenticate and illustrate what I‘m saying. Who knew? Not me. Thanks, Tess. You can stay.

And now my friend, Ashby. Ashby shared a tip that I used when Sweet Pea was younger and I have recently started to use it with Lovey. You know those things that are on the backs of doors? I’m not sure what they’re called. Door backers? There’s a metal spring and then a white plastic piece that goes on the end. Sweet Pea used to love to take the white pieces off. It drove me nuts. We had to tape them all on. It wasn’t just that, she took everything off of everything. And she was fast about it. Ashby said that if we could catch her in the act, we should get on her level, take the plastic thing out of her hand and say: “Sweet Pea, THAT’S not for you!” Not in a mean way, but that sing-song pretty way that sugar coats what we really mean: “WHAT IS WITH YOU? STOP IT! YOU ARE DRIVING ME FREAKING NUTS. SERIOUSLY, THE WHITE THINGS AT THE END OF THE SPRINGY THINGS? WHY??”

Yelling just scares little kids and if we use up all of our yelling on stupid stuff like plastic door backer things, the yelling will lose its value and then we won't be able to use it to scare the hell out of them when we really need to. Ashby’s “No, No, honey…THAT’S not for you” line is a good alternative. It gets the point across without judgment and without volume. Good tip, Ashby. The village welcomes you. Don't speed. Garbage day is Tuesday.

It’s unrealistic to think that we are the only ones who influence our kids. We instill what we can, drawing from our own childhood experiences and the tips we take from others, but there comes a time in every child’s life when we have to let them wander the village, without us. We leave them in the care of someone else--a grandparent, a teacher, a babysitter, whoever. Basically someone that is not us. And when we leave them, we are left holding a big bag of hope that those we trust are making good decisions in the best interest of our child.

Plus, who’s to say that you won’t do a stellar job as a parent (so stellar that you can’t imagine anyone doing a better job) but despite your self-proclaimed parental awesomeness, your kid still turns out completely messed up? Someone in your village must have given you a crappy tip and now your kid is thirty years old with his Chevette parked in your driveway and his  ass parked in your basement. If, as instructed in this entry, you utilized those in your village, and tried their tips--instead of having only yourself to blame, you now get to point fingers and blame someone else. Just not me.

One Thing on the Menu

I once got a fortune that said “Eat to live, don’t live to eat.“ I for sure got that fortune by mistake so I made someone trade with me. I love to eat. I’m usually planning my next meal while I’m in the middle of eating one. I don’t know if I was always like this, but I am now. My friend, Busy, thinks we are like this because we are losers who have nothing else in our lives. She is mistaken. I have cake.

My kids don’t feel the same way as I do about food. They’re much more apathetic about mealtime. For awhile, my 20 month old, Lovey, ate just about everything we put in front of her. Those were good days. Those days are over. She now seems to be easing off the food. I think her belly and her palate have reached their respective breaking points. We had a good run, but she’s moving on. She’s now eating only bits and pieces of some food and rejecting others. The rejects end up on the floor and for this reason our dog, Floyd, loves Lovey more than anyone else in the family.

My other daughter is almost 4 years old. She’s very busy. Way too busy to eat. She’s two bites in and “I’m done!“ I don’t get that. WHO LEAVES MAC AND CHEESE ON THEIR PLATE? The veggies, sure, but Mac and Cheese? That is just wrong. She will be sorry one day. She doesn’t appreciate M&C for all its heaven on earth status now, but she will, and when she does, the calories will count. I can‘t wait for the day when she says: “I’m dying for some Mac and Cheese, but I really shouldn‘t because then I‘ll have to work out for 10 hours.” My eyes will then proceed to roll somewhere into the depths of the back of my head. You had your chance, sister.

We were recently commiserating with some friends over how often we have to make a different meal for every person in our family to ensure that everyone is happy. We do this because we are scared of what will happen if our kids don’t eat and also because we are dumb.

My girlfriend, Segal, said she read something about how if we serve everyone at the table the same thing for several days in a row, eventually everyone will start eating it. Wait. What? Feed everyone the same thing? Put the food out and that is that? The kids just have to deal? I was dubious, yet intrigued. She admitted that she has never tried it, but supposedly it works. If it works, I’ll do it. Sign me up. I did sleeping training with both of my kids, I can do anything. I’m a warrior.

Unfortunately, Segal didn’t have much more to say on the subject. I got the feeling that she wasn’t going to try it. I don’t need her. I’ll do it on my own. I was very excited about the prospect of no longer being the short order cook in my house, but when I pressed her for more info, she simply said: “They say it works.”

Time Out. Who are “They?” Do I know any of them? How did they become they? Did they take a class? What if they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about and although it sounds great in theory to serve only one meal and tell everyone to deal, I will feel kind of bad if my kids pull a Gandhi and end up curled up and convulsing in the corner of my kitchen weak with starvation. I wonder where they will be then?

Oh, They. How I loathe you. You had me so excited, why can’t you deliver any concrete evidence as to whether this works or not? Gotta go with the gut, I guess. As parents, that’s all we have. The idea of serving everyone the same thing makes sense, we are a family after all, but unless the outcome of an idea has actually been proven, we’re taking a chance and guinea pigging our kids. It does seem pretty innocuous though. I mean, what harm can come from giving everyone in the family one option for dinner and if not everyone is happy, TOO BAD? They’ll either cave and everyone will eat, or they’ll stand on principle and have to skip a meal or four.

I might actually give it a shot (right after I learn how to cook) because really, if it’s only three or four days, what’s the worst that can happen? Isn’t that what they say?

Fork in the Road

Last week someone asked me if I'm scared that I will run out of things to write about. I think you will find, after reading the following entry, that there is no chance of that happening. The questions below are just a sample of what goes through my head on a daily basis when I should be working or paying attention to my kids. What you are about to read is a necessary contribution to the world of logic and I believe philosophers everywhere will forever toss these questions around because of the startling import presented and posed. 

*****

You’re having a bunch of family and friends over for a holiday dinner, is it better to get your carpet cleaned before the dinner (so it will look all nice and pretty), or should you wait until after since the percentage of someone spilling something is somewhere around 100 percent?

It was a fun night and you got home late. It's way past bedtime for your little one. Normally you brush her teeth after she has a bottle because you're supposed to. (Something about milk doing bad things to the teeth, I don't know). She's tired though and so are you. Do you skip the teeth for one night knowing they're the dress rehearsal teeth, or do you power through and brush them?

You’re at the grocery store and one of the items you buy all the time is on sale. 10 for $10.00. Wow. That‘s pretty good, but who needs 10? 10 is a lot. It’s not like you won't use them eventually, but 10? I don’t know…it’s a lot, but it is a good deal.

Emptying the dishwasher is such a pain. Is it better to clean the dishes and put them away as you go, or go the dishwasher route and put them all away at once? If you say “Oh, I would FOR SURE wait and do them all at once.” I’d like to know if you’re still saying that while you’re the one who's stuck unloading.

Your kids likes gum. Is sugarless gum the way to go or do you give him gum with sugar? If he eats gum with sugar, his teeth will rot. If he eats sugarless gum, there are a lot of ingredients that start with "X." His teeth will look really good but he might end up with a third eye.

You’re not in the mood to talk to the person who is calling you. In fact, you’re really not in the mood to talk to anyone. Do you let the messages pile up, or do you just answer so you don’t have to listen to all of your voice mails and then call everyone back later?

Halfway to the market you realize that you forgot your "Go Green" bags. Curses!! Do you risk the dirty looks and possible harm you're going to cause the planet by choosing paper or plastic, or do you turn around, go back home and emit more gas and carbon dioxide into the atmosphere? (I think it's carbon dioxide that comes out of cars. I'm not really sure. I just know it's bad).

Your kid wears pull-ups during nap time and when she goes to sleep. She just fell asleep on the couch, but you weren‘t expecting it so she‘s not wearing pull-ups. Do you chance it and hope for the best, or do you wake her ass up so you’re not stuck cleaning the pee pee?

Is it better to pick up after your kids as they make a mess or wait until the basement, playroom or whole house is completely trashed and then just do it all at once?

You’re in the bathroom and after you are done, you happen to notice that you’re getting dangerously low on toilet paper. Of course there is more, but it‘s not within reach. Do you go get it and restock the bathroom, or do you risk it and wait for someone else in your family to hopefully take care of it?

Forget it. I can answer that one myself.

Cutting Corners

There are some parents who are really on top of things. I am not.

I do what I can, but I admit, sometimes I don’t suit up. It’s not so much laziness as it is choice. My choice is to let some stuff go. I cut corners. Not on everything, but some things. Just thinking about adding more items to my “To Do List” or calling my kids out on every little thing makes me tired. Here and there, something has to give. Following is a list of some of the things that slide.


Item #1: Grammar

Last I heard, Harvard isn’t taking applications for 4 year olds, so I’m not all that concerned about correcting my daughter’s grammar. It will get acknowledged as she gets older because nothing says a future of minimum wage like bad grammar, but for now when my daughter boasts: “I taked it with me, mommy” or “Is this upside down or upside right?” I smile. I smile because I know it won’t always be like this. Soon enough, she’ll start picking up on the rules and usage of language, and she’ll figure out how everything fits. And even though I may be smiling now, knowing that she won’t always talk like this actually makes me very sad.
　

Item #2: Clothes

I don’t really know what’s going on in homes with boys because I have two girls, but I imagine the struggle with clothes is pretty much the same depending on mood. The mood of the parent and the mood of the child. I have one daughter who is 20 months old and she couldn’t care less what she wears. She doesn’t care because she is still clueless. That will change and I will cry, but for now I have full creative control and I love it. I LOVE CLOTHES. My other kid, the one who is almost 4 years old, cares. And she cares a lot. I didn’t relinquish control unto her, she took it. I knew the day would come but I’m still not completely over it. Because I love clothes and I still feel the need to be a part of each outfit, I have made Sweet Pea meet me halfway. When it’s time to get dressed, we go into the closet and we build an outfit together. Quality time. I always start the same way: “What are you in the mood for: Skirt, dress, jeans, stretchies…?” and we go from there. I can’t say that she didn’t go to school the other day with a long skirt and pink shoes--SHOES THAT YOU WEAR IN THE WATER--but I’m OK with that. I’m not going to make myself crazy because she leaves the house looking like Punky Brewster. She carries it well and I love that she has her own sense of style. I wish her well and hope that she finds some puddles to walk through.


Item #3: Walking and Talking
　
Walking Floyd, our Golden Retriever, is good for him and it's good for me. He gets a little exercise and some air, I get a little exercise and some air. I don't really have any desire to sniff other dogs' asses or pee on mailboxes so the rest of the walking experience is pretty much geared towards him. If we run into someone else with a dog, and I can tell Floyd wants in on some of that action, I'm OK with it--but only for a limited time. I have perfected the art of smiling at the other dog owner and saying "Hi, how are you?" very softly so I don't have to a) take my glove off, go into my pocket, dig out my I Touch from underneath several poop bags and then quickly hit the "pause button" or b) take my earphones out after finally finding the best and most comfortable place for them. The clock is ticking for ass sniffing. Floyd needs to finish up his bid-ness because I can't fake any more of the conversation. I will either come across like some crazy lady who yells really loudly while trading pleasantries or I’ll have to resort to one of the options stated above. No thanks. Time to boogie. Floyd gets “the yank” if I feel a conversation coming on. He’s a big dog, he can handle it--plus he knows I’ll make up for it. I know of a house that has three dogs. They have the best mailbox on the block.

　
Item #4: Food

The food thing is really the only one I have ever second guessed myself on, but that didn’t last long. I think it was a Tuesday. I have friends who are really good about what they feed their kids. They’re giving them all these crazy, exotic foods while I’m proud of myself for thawing a bag of broccoli and carrots and putting them out with some ranch dressing. I entertained the idea of pureeing food and being creative, but who am I kidding? It’s not happening. I’m pretty conscious about a plate stacked with something from all four food groups and I’m all about “No dessert until your veggies are gone,” (or mostly gone) but that’s all you‘re getting with this mommy. I’m doing what my mom did, and although my kids might not turn out any better than me, I figure they can’t turn out any worse.

　
Item #5: Swear Words

My daughter, Sweet Pea, the one who is almost 4 years old, sometimes throws down a swear word. It doesn’t bother me so I don‘t get in her face about it. She’s not one to walk into a room, pants down low, hand held high: “What up, Mother F%$#er?“ but every once in a while she might drop an: “Oh $%#@.“ For some, it's a huge deal. For me, it’s not. First of all, it's funny when little kids swear. You know it and so do I. Second of all, it just doesn't matter right now. They're little kids. It will matter one day and when that time comes, I’ll be on it, but for now--WHO CARES? The kid stuff goes by so fast. We have such a short window for the “bad” stuff to be funny. It just doesn’t seem worth it to be all up in their faces about every little thing. There will come a day when I will actually have to listen to my husband and stop playing Eminem or I’ll have to get the parental advisory edition (gag), but for not now I hit for the mute button during the bad words and most of the time I make it. Sometimes I don’t. It’s not my fault--I’m probably half way on a curb trying to cut a corner saying something like “Damn, who the hell put that there?”

Hey, I’m a parent. I never said I was a good one. 　
　
　

When They're Yours

When I was 12 or 13 years old, I used to babysit. It wasn‘t my thing. The kids smelled like playground, their hands were grubby, they wanted me to be nice...I wasn't into it. I used to change the clocks and announce "Time for bed!" an hour or so earlier than I was supposed to. Sorry, kids. Maybe your sitter next weekend won‘t suck as much as I do. I just wanted them to go to sleep so I could talk on the phone with my friends and go through their parents' stuff.

When I would get home, I would complain to my mom that babysitting blows and kids are gross but she would always say the same thing: "It's different when they're yours."

I believed my mom because she is my mom. I believed her until one of my friends tripped me up many, many years later.

My girlfriend, Segal, is the one who screwed me up. She told me that there is nothing better than picking a giant boogie out of her kid’s nose. I disagree. Lots of things are better. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that most everything is better. When I had to go into Sweet Pea's nose for the first time (she was around a year old) I did not have a good time. And if that wasn’t enough, I then got scared that maybe I was wrong about the stuff I‘d been telling everyone “...You can love an adopted kid as much as a bio kid...blah blah blah...adoption rules, it’s the best…blah blah…who cares if the kid doesn't look like you--go adopt a kid right now, blah blah."

As I stood amongst the mucus, I thought about what my mom had said so many years ago and I thought about what Segal had said about her kid’s boogers being so great, and I felt a little faint. 

Is the love we feel for an adopted kid different than the love we feel for a bio kid?

Could I have been wrong? Maybe bio kids have better boogers? If Sweet Pea were my bio kid, maybe I wouldn't have been as grossed out by her boogers?

I was a little freaked. If Segal wasn’t grossed out by her kid’s boogers, why was I grossed out by mine? What did I get myself into? Sweet Pea didn’t come with a receipt, just boogers. Thanks a lot, Segal. Booger lover.

It is now three years later and I have another daughter, Lovey (a bio daughter), and I can confirm, without hesitation, that bio boogs and adopted boogs are equally disgusting. Boogers just aren't my thing.

All kids are pretty disgusting, but it’s always less disgusting when it’s your own kid. Your kid’s disgusting isn’t as bad as that kid‘s disgusting--your kid is yours. Raising kids (bio or adopted, I don’t care) can be yucky and it can be annoying. It’s not like the boogers and the whining and the yuckiness aren’t going to bug you just because it’s coming from your own kid--it will, it’s just not going to bug you as much. The kid who’s playing at your house, the one who is doing the same exact annoying stuff as your kid, that kid is the one who is bugging the crap out of you.

As INSANE as it makes me when Lovey is all whiney and yucky about something only she understands, or Sweet Pea is sitting at the table, impatiently demanding “Water, please!“ it still doesn’t stop me from chasing them around the house after dinner, kissing them and trying to grab their tushies. As grossed out as I am by their boogers or how I sometimes want to say: “OK, I heard you!“ when their coughing is relentless and incessant, I still find myself overwhelmed by how much I love them, and some nights I wish I could keep them up for one more hour.

But if they’re at your house, noses running a mucus marathon and whiney voices hitting the one working nerve you have left--you might not find them to be quite as endearing. And that’s totally understandable, because they're not yours.