Monday, December 17, 2007

Ipod Bush

The Ipod is still missing; in fact, it's gone.

This is the only time that I will share a W vid. I do it because he mentions that on his Ipod is one of my most beloved musical artists -- he mentions him by first name only: "Alejandro".

An Austin, TX dude, Alejandro Escovedo is the most opposite thing from George Bush.. ever. And one of the most interesting people I have ever had the true pleasure to know.

Looks like the Ipod Scandal will end well, thankfully. Wish I could be as confident about our next election.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Dude, Where's the Ipod?

Or, Why I Will Not be Winning the Mother of the Year Award.

A week or so ago, a classmate of R’s (1st grade) gave her an Ipod. Uh huh, an Ipod. He told her he had three, so it seemed reasonable to her I suppose. When she showed it to me during the chaos of school pick-up -- kids yapping at me, freezing winds -- I was thrown.

“No! We can’t take that!” I blurted, “We have to give that back!” but instead of finding that boy right then and there, I decided to just chuck everyone into the car and deal with it all later.

The next day, the child wouldn’t take the Ipod back. I made a mental note to call his parents.

I forgot.

A week passed.

The boy’s father arrives at school this morning asking the teacher to point out R. She does. He asks for his Ipod back. “It was a mistake,” he told R, “Something he shouldn’t have given away.” (Ya think?) The teacher called me – fortunately that very morning during our school conference, I relayed this story to her and how I felt so embarrassed that I hadn’t called the family yet (who I don’t know) and have been meaning to return it – and even as she assured me the father understood and was not angry, she was laughing her head off.

“I’ll return it right away,” I said, while the mental ticker-tape in my brain was flashing, “loser mom-bad mother-Ipod stealer” over and over and over again.

Since then, I have turned my house upside down, scolded my daughters for losing it, scolded myself, looked under beds, inside pockets, through every cabinet and toy bin, searched the car, pulled my hair out, sweated, fretted, frowned and nearly cried. Found lots of missing stuff – my hair-cutting scissors, for instance, and countless magnets (don’t ask), missing toy parts, all my pens - but no limegreen Ipod.


I would say why do these things happen to me? But, truth is, I already know why.

Someone else won the Mother of the Year Award I guess, and I am just another of the uncrowned.

Friday, December 7, 2007

NE Moms (and You Too)

Check out Bedhead's Romney/religion rant, "Opiate for the Masses" at

Serious food for thought.

Sound Like You?

Happy decorating!

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Top Five: Gifts for a (Giant) Three Year Old

If you started at the beginning, you know where I am going with this.

What does a Giant Three Year Old boy really want for Christmas? Especially one who doesn't so much play with toys, but mostly just acts out make-believe dramas all over the house (and don't you dare look at him while he's in Ninja/Batman/Spy-guy mode because you'll just startle him and then, he'll be forced to realize he is not Ninja/Batman/Spy-guy and you, YOU, will pay for that).

He does like to color, God bless him. So my list is as follows:

1) Crayons
2) Coloring books and paper pads
3) Paints
4) A car track (very basic, figure eight)
5) A robot

Ideas? Should I wrap each crayon up individually, and call it a day? (You with multiple children, and you who were among multiple children, will know the gifts must be "equal" -- always.)

I love Christmas. I really do. No matter what I do, it's Santa's fault.

Top Five: Gifts for an 8 Year Old

I feel afraid to ask B too much what she wants from Santa because I know she will remember what she said and then maybe, if she hasn't already, figure out the whole beautiful scam.

You with other 8 year old girls: please let me know what your kids want so I don't blow it.

Right now, I am going off my gut:

1) Julie, the American Girl Doll
2) A Webkin
3) something artsy -- Fashion Studio
4) something sportsy -- lacrosse stick
5) scrapbook with all the "fixins"

My girlfriend just had her first daughter, after two boys, and has felt her confidence rocked more than ever. Something about being a mom to girls -- all those insecurities, daydreams, issues and wishes played out in 3-D. I told her, and I believe this, that little girls will teach you more about yourself than you can ever teach them and so, there's nothing to sweat.

Until Christmas comes.

Top Five: Gifts for a Twelve Year Old Girl

I don't have one of my one, but I have a couple who confound me as far a gift-giving.

What would you have given your twelve year old self?

My list would include:

1) A dual-cassette boom-box
2) Blank cassette tapes to make "mixes"
3) A journal
4) Anything from Esprit
5) the new Elvis Costello record

What would you buy for a twelve year old today?

Top Five: Gifts for Your Mom

Need ideas for Christmas -- and need your help.

Be creative.

What would you give your Mom, if you could give her anything?

I would give:

1) Me, at 6 months old, because that is always how she sees me in dreams
2) A boyfriend
3) A video-phone
4) A best woman friend who lives next door
5) Peace of mind

What will you give her anyway?

What should I?

Marriage Two

So many people emailed me with advice and insight about what appears to be a "normal" occurrence in marriage. It felt -- it feels good.

That being said, not all advice works for everyone. I won't, for instance, enter into a fight by stripping off my clothes, as a wonderful friend advised me to do when things get rough. I can't imagine me -- all bare and out there -- or him (kinda ick, if I think about it), and then,... fighting.

But I love her for taking the time.

As for the lovely SarahClawson, who always takes the time:

"That Man" is 50/50 tongue in cheek. Just like life, and great fiction.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007


The last few days have been an exercise in suburban cliché: Christmas wreaths and gingerbread houses, excessive volunteering and a girls’ night out.

I took my kids with me when I had no choice and even when I did.

As it turns out, despite the Giant Three Year Old who in the stress of crowds and chaos gets more Ninja then Zen, my girls are excellent helpers. They know already their legacy of “doing.” I’ll get that Giant Three Year Old there too, I swear.

I ran away this weekend every chance I had.

That Man and I cannot end the fight we always have: the one that makes me the sad guy, and I guess, the bag guy too.

If I complain about all this itty bitty stuff, all this humongous stuff, he worries that I am not “happy” – and that makes him unhappy. I can’t figure out how to fix it – and be honest at the same time.

He is a busy man, important in his field, and he has very little time. He rarely reads what I write here.

Still, I complain too much. He’s my best friend; I need to complain less to him.

Is this a suburban, at-home-mom sitch that I am in, or just the usual stuff of relationships?

And Then She Said

B: Hey, mom, is it weird when your feet hit your butt when you run?

Me: Um, no.

Me: Let me see.

(I tried it; running through my ktichen trying to make my heels hit my ass. Couldn't do it. Not even close.)

Me: It's not weird.

B: Is that why I was so slow running the laps at school?

Me: No! I think it was just 'cause you were talking too much, remember?

B: Oh yeah. HaHa, that was funny ---

Me: Not that funny.

B: (Pause). Yeah. (Pause.) You looked funny running.