Thursday, December 29, 2005

Celebrity Stench

The other day I was trapped by the odious aroma of Antonio Banderras' "Spirit of a Woman". I took a whiff at the drug store and it completely saturated my upper lip. It reminded me of dried statice, kind of sweetly musky and pee-pee like. All day I thought of the whore that inspired that scent. Was it fish lips Melanie or ?? Speaking of Ms. Griffith, has anyone noticed how ALOT of lady stars are looking like freaky lil' kitties?

Then I spied Jeff Gordon for Halston. Whhhhhhaaaaa? Imagine sweaty jungle-y balls vibrating hard and fast, humid and stuck together from crotch heat. Mmmmmmm... smells like trailer couture. I wonder who had that brilliant idea.

Below Antonio was "Shania". And to the right was Jessica Simpson's line. Hers were priced beyond the realm of drug store chic. They were hinging on department store. Especially considering a small bottle of lotion was $19.99. Yeouch. That's a shitload of dinero to smell like Betty Crocker!

J-Lo is known for her booty and I can only imagine her 'fume must indeed smell like ass.

Liz, Celine, Brittney, and Paris all have their signature scents. None of them inspire class. Maybe Liz prior to her Marriage to trucker Larry Fortensky and her friendship with plastic man Michael. I find it so bizarre that someone would hear about these and actually WANT to go out and buy them.

These last five have all had bad relationships with men. I guess it's not enough to get out a good cry, but rather spray your stench all around the world so everyone can share in your misery. You may cash in, but in the end, some poor soul really stinks and they don't even know it.

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Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Like A Nice Snowblower

nickandawarmgun

Pontification Purge

I just have to vent. There is nothing more irritating to me than an immature 23 year old woman playing house. Especially one who blatantly says she doesn't want to have a baby anytime soon and then boing!, she's knocked up! She just forgot to take her pill a few times. Yeah, right. I don't even want to get into THAT discussion.

Then there is the whole, "Oh, I can't stand to be away from my baby! I just cry!" bullshit. Meanwhile she constantly complains to her boyfriend that being at home is driving her nuts. Baby is only five months new!

For Christmas he bought entirely new, very expensive bedding for them, to which she complained, "That's not very personal! I can't stand the color, but I suppose it will grow on me."

Can I get a SHUT THE FUCK UP?

Being at home with a bambino is not for everyone, I know. Most of the amazing moms I know ARE at home and the ones like me who can't be would do almost anything within reason to be that lucky. A cute Sugar Daddy wouldn't be out of my realm of possibility, ha!

Isn't it a shocking awakening to see the big lifestyle shift a new person makes? I have said it before, most women are too lazy to be stay at home moms. Patience seems nonexistent. We are raising kids without parents although no one will admit it. Get up early, feed them, drop them off at daycare, pick them up between 5-6pm, feed them, bathe them, play not enough and shove them off to bed until the cycle begins again.

Maybe instead of playing with them, they get shoved in front of the TV for three hours. SICK.

Having a baby later in life made me realize just HOW important a new person is. To me, doing and having it all comes down to being a good mother and that's it. I gave up being selfish the day Snowflake was born.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

The Christmas Crock

Christmas came down at about 5pm today. I packed it all up and haven't looked back. It was magical to watch Snowflake enjoy his new toys. On the other hand, Christmas was a disgusting bust for my mother. This year(along with her usual wad of cash) she received a box of salted nut rolls and a six person crock pot.

Yes, those WERE some of the freshest nut rolls we've had. Big Pappy's lack of taste in jewelry was apparent when she almost swallowed her tongue and seized at the site of a pair of onyx Black Hills Gold earrings. Maybe if she was the Queen of his Double Wide Trailer it would be a different story. Did I mention the rose gold heart shaped locket that had LOVE written in capital script?

Then she feels bad because she suffers from "if something happened I would feel horrible!" syndrome. Familial guilt. I guess it boils down to loving what you get and what you have. Yet, how can you blame someone for being pissed off at your present when it appears absolutely no effort has gone into it? Especially when you've been an indentured servant for all of your married life.

On a suprising note, on old friend stopped by tonight and it was so great to see him. I never thought I'd see him again. What a perfect Christmas present. I can't ask for anything better than that.


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Saturday, December 24, 2005

Visions of Lapdances in My Head

Last night Sid & Nancy invited the familia over to their pad for a little Christmas cheer. Earlier in the day, Sid, Nancy, Snowflake and myself joined Big Pappy and two of his employees for drinks and lunch at a local poolhall.

The party kept going after I left, after Sid & Nancy left. The party ended about one hour before everyone was to meet at Sid & Nancy's. Big Pappy was completely and unequivocally shitfaced.

Apparently our 63 year old father went to a strip joint with these two guys. This club is like the Wal-Mart of Strip clubs. You know, everyone who works there seems retarded or inbred. I'm sure I know who wanted to go there and it wasn't Big Pappy. Our dad is like an amoeba, aesexual... about as lusty as a quadreplegic.

We're sitting there in my brother's living room and Big Pappy, all glazed and silly putty faced, is rubbing his thigh with a coaster, around and around.

"God! What are doing?!" I blurt, "Thinking of those classy ladies?"

Everyone just rolled. I really have to wonder about these two guys that work for my dad. It makes me think they are sexually malnourished and stunted. One complains about how his wife just "lays there" during sex like a certain scene from Six Feet Under and the other one is going all out and bought his little darlin' a Catholic School Girl getup for Christmas. According to him, you have to spice things up.

As he says, "It's the same old bisquit."

Can I just yak over here in the corner? Do they go home and fantasize about these skanks while they're jabbing away at their "old bisquits"?

The last thing I want to think about is any of these guys, let alone Big Pappy getting lapdances from hardcore lesbians posing as amateur strippers. It would be difficult considering two of them have bellies that cover their nutsacks!

Ho, Ho, HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!


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Thursday, December 22, 2005

America's Next Top Model





I have to nominate Snowflake. Why? You ask? No, it's not for his unisex good looks, but rather a certain quality he dispalys on rare occasions that sets him apart from all babies I've met.

You might think it's his ability to swagger down the sidewalk with a load in his pants as if it were the catwalk, but no!

You might think it's because of his bulbous, milky and supple bulldog like cheeks, wrong again!

One might think it's the way he wears his jeans, ridin' low like an urban funked out, homie, not a chance!

Snowflake has that freaky Kate Moss vibe, chillin' in his high-chair, eatin' corn and corn dogs. Sippin' on chocolate soy milk from his sippy cup, wrinkling his nose up and lookin' at me out the corner of his eye and cackling at me like a crazed oompa loompa.

Before I know it, he has almost his entire hand down his gob and is gagging. Snowflake is a bingin' and a purgin'! The more I make light of this, the more he enjoys it, so I have to ignore it. Ironically, it makes me want to gag!

In the meantime, this is what my little "divo" was up to while I posted this. He took it upon himself to climb up INTO the sink and practice water sports with the faucet and sprayer.

He's a sink sailor! Pout, baby, pout!


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It's What's For Dinner!




I think the Scrooge in me has finally reared his ugly head. Maybe it’s because I am coming down off my monthly hormone festival, or I’m just tired of the usual familial bullshit.

I realize that being vegetarians makes Snowflake and I outcasts in this high cholesterol, walking rump roast, beef fed enclave, but once again we have to endure it with a smile for the sake of being with our kin.

Mother calls to say that Big Pappy wants filets and twice baked potatoes for Christmas Eve. What else is new? My father lives to eat. From pictures like a timeline, you can trace his financial girth with the physical. She was wondering if she should pick up some Philly Steak veggie burgers for Snowflake and myself.

Oooooo, yummy. I can hardly wait. How forking festive. Don’t forget the Spud Puppies!(organic tater tots) I called her back and said, “We’ll just come over AFTER you’re done eating”.

”Isn’t that what vegetarians eat? What’s the big deal?!”, she sarcastically chirps.

“Yeah, mom. That’s ALL we eat. Veggie burgers, veggie burgers, veggie burgers!”

“Well, do you still want us to come over tonight? Because I’m not coming over for bitching!”

“You know what, screw it. Don’t come over. Good Bye”, I said.

Leave it to me to just ruin the Holidays. According to family statistics, I seem to have a knack for it. I definitely don’t want anyone to “come over for bitching”. I mean that’s just hilarious fodder for me. It’s like some back holler hillbilly thing. Welcome to my world.

Y’all come back now, ya hear!

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Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Monday, December 19, 2005

Sell Phones & Self Esteem



Sometimes from out of the blue I am struck by these thoughts that just seem to really tweak me. For example, tonight I am driving home from my parents, Snowflake snuggled and sleeping in his car seat. Christmas lights twinkle here and there. Then, the theme song for a cell phone commercial comes on, in this case, "Sweet Melissa" by the Allman Brothers.

I start thinking about the commercial, you know the one:Girlfriend/Wife/Lover is going into labor and her good looking executive arrives just in time to meet her in the waiting room so they can 'go it together'. I hope they have a three headed baby with mature genitalia that looks like the cavemen in the Geico commercial. Mission accomplished for the fuckwhack that dreamt up that little scenario. Meanwhile, I am reduced to a blubbering pile of salty sea eyes and a snotty nose. I cannot help but draw a comparison to my own life.

Yes, it makes me feel damn-dirty-down-trodden being alone, especially at Christmas. There is no sexy sweetheart waiting to take Snowflake off my hands for a few moments so I can take a bubble bath. I could go on and on, bitch and whine, give a thousand examples, but what is the point? I allow myself a brief wallow and it does feel oh-so-good to baste and marinate in the lump in my throat for a few minutes. I let it all out. However, I cannot allow myself to keep a good woman down.

When I arrive home sweet home, there was a package waiting for me from a Sweet Georgia Peach. It wasn't the package that counted, but rather the idea that someone thought of me and I am not entirely alone. I realize how lucky I am to be here in my swanky little bungalow enjoying life with my beautiful Snowflake and The Chidler. The Universe works in magical ways. Timing IS everything.

I'm overjoyed for Sweet Melissa, The Executive and their impending imaginary bundle of joy.


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Sunday, December 18, 2005

The Polish Girl In Me

I have to apologize for dissing the Baby Bjorn feeding bowl. Upon closer examination, this polish princess finds that she was trying to put it back together the wrong way. I was trying to put it together by pushing the bowl up through the bottom. Woops! Sorry BB! I love your products! Snowflake lived in his Active for the first year of his life. I have absolutely NO COMPLAINTS whatsoever.

My Werewolf




From the moment I took this photograph, I thought there was something intriguing about it. At the time, I thought, "Damn! This is so hot and sexy I just want to jump on!" If the eyes are indeed the windows to the soul, what is this subject saying?

I haven't studied it in a long time. To me now, there is something very sinister about it. It's like the Neil Jordan movie, "The Company of Wolves". Gypsies warn, beware the man with a bushy, almost uni-brow! Why? Because they are werewolves and they seek to devour and destroy. In the movie, Red Riding Hood is "had" by the Big Bad Wolf...he takes her maidenhood. I think that type of vibe really comes out loud and clear here. It is like the eye of the Modigliani in the background is my own self looking at me, urging me to heed a weird, eerie, bizarre warning. My stomach drops like riding a rollercoaster if I look at it too long.

Although my maidenhood was long gone by the time I took this photograph, something was definitely stolen from me. Those hazel eyes beguiled me, transfixed me and lied to me. It still amazes me how an image can be so alive to a person years later. Hanging on to photographs and even words. Rememberances. Ghostly unresolved scenarios that play over and over from time to time.

That is haunting. This is my werewolf.


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Saturday, December 17, 2005

A Blink of the Eye



Sweet Snowflake luxuriating and hamming it up for the camera in his bath this morning. I cannot believe he was so small. As you can see though, he is still a gorgeous breastfed Dough Boy. Just look at those voluptuous velveteen pipes on that juicy cupcake! The sink days seem so long ago. I can't believe I managed to take this photograph and hold him at the same time. Share the baby love and squeeze those precious cushy little sweetsies while you have them! No babies? Your puppino is just as good! Snuggle up.




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Friday, December 16, 2005

Insider Secrets

And now, for something completely different. Well, I suppose these could be some of the Butchered Baby's relatives, but I think not. Imagine how I felt, discovering a small colony of disgruntled but jovial dwarves living in my very own home. Shocking! They like drinking, ALOT! Here we have Commander Skippy Chops and Lady M. They moonlight as karaoke hosts at local dives.



I found these two running around the backyard one day, buck-naked and drinking mead they made from their own hive and organic dandelions. The blonde is Char-lita and the brunette is ZanDee. All dwarves desperately need dental work if it isn't already apparent here. Did I mention dwarve females have the strongest sex drives in the world? These ladies are always looking for a good skronk. The pointier their ears, the more randy they are.(Insider tip).




Last but not least here we have ZanDee again with some of her dwarve girlfriends out for a night of robust fun. Orgiastic binges are not beyond their boundaries. In fact, they thrive on it, much like the Romans. They completely groove on oral sex. It's not uncommon for the lot of them to blow an entire bar full of men several times. It really does happen here, just south of the Yukon(another insider secret). They believe it keeps their appearance youthful. I don't think youthful is quite the right word to describe them. Have they looked in the mirror lately?



The secret lives of dwarves revealed. Any questions? Just keep it on the LD as they get extremely irate when they hear anyone has finked on them. I would hate to be on their shit list.


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Thursday, December 15, 2005

For Hokusai




Update!

I don't mean to brag, but I just finished blowing half an entire city block! On a more 'Momly' note, don't buy a Baby Bjorn feeding bowl. Snowflake threw his off his highchair and it came apart. I cannot get it back together. I can't even recycle it. Pretty pricey disposable! Thumbs double down.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Blowing Your Neighbor & Yourself

What makes a single madame feel totally empowered, totally fanfrickingtastic? No, not electric toothbrushes turned sex toys, but a BIG, STRONG, BALLSY SNOWBLOWER! Living just south of the Yukon can take alot out of a gal, especially if she lives on a corner at the bottom of a hill. Enter the typical blizzard. The snow just piles up to the n-th degree. Of course the local plow guy always shoves ALL the snow from the entire block right into my driveway or plows in the corner four feet deep. This I fear and begrudge no more.

I imagine and equate this, my beloved snowblower, as having a really big penis. It's like a man painting his face in his team's colors and going shirtless to a winter game. It makes me want to ROAR. I want to start cat calling these guys with pussy, inferior machines. I am that wooly mammoth Beyond Thunderdome warrior riding a big motorcycle and wearing a fur hat that has HORNS! I'm the one with the battleaxe and mace. I feel like I have the biggest, most gargantuan dick east of the Mississippi. The most badass muscle car, the longest, fastest jet boat, the most acreage, the nicest set of golf clubs, the newest Bugatti just can't compare(okay maybe the Bugatti- it does 0-60 in TWO fricking seconds!)to my steely snow steed.

After blowing two neighbors plus myself in less than twenty minutes, I pamper my steed with a thorough rub down, removing the crusted snow with the utmost delicacy and care. Then little sweetsie goes gingerly back into the garage until the next subzero snow blast.

I gotta tell you, I can hardly wait to get my hands on him again. I totally get the power of the penis.

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Monday, December 12, 2005

Chillin' & Nippin' (Swiss Cheese Casa)

I love the gorgeous Ice Hotel they make every year in some colder than frostbite country. I'm the one with the hot Swedish ski instuctor. We booked a weekend getaway to nuzzle and mash under animal pelts like our prehistoric ancestors and sip Ice Wine,Schnaaps or Jaegermeister. It's so primitive and SO posh! Grrrrrrrr...

Brrrrrrrrr! When I got home from work I trudged to the mailbox to find my utility bill. It's a combined bill with charges for gas and electric. Panic gripped my stomach and I couldn't quite catch a deep breath. Wait, was I sweating? It's forking 15 degrees out!

Slowly opening the envelope, I peek inside to soften the blow. Maybe it will quickly shrink down to normal size. $279!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had to phone a friend. Hers was a little less, but not much. Instant Karma in the name of local justice?! I had to do something.

I decided NOT to plug in the outdoor Christmas lights. I reprogrammed the thermostat so that it will be a balmy 60 degrees during the day & evening and 58 during sleepie pies. Am I doomed to a winter of slipper socks and multiple sweaters? I draw the line at Long Johns. I really look forward to a season filled with permanent nip-ons. Thanks to breastfeeding I'll be the only one who knows. It'll be our little secret.

I'm sure if you did an infrared image of my house at night it would look just like a big steaming pile of dog poo in the winter.

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Butchering A Baby



This is a sweet innocent baby that I butchered in Photoshop. The original photo was given to me by an instructor. She wanted it restored as it was really water damaged & moldy. I think it may have been a photo of herself or one of her family members. Woops. For some reason, it reminds me of Good Old Fashion Christmas Candy.


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Way Upper Midwestern Legal



Gob shite! My magical fluffy Saturday was marred by a letter from the COUNTY COURT. Fork! I thought it may have 'something' to do with Snowflake's Y, since I never sought paternity. I thought maybe he was back on the up and up, new teeth and seeking to claim his fatherly right. I guess it was the optimist in me.

It was a letter informing me I had been chosen for Jury Duty. ACK! I cannot beleive that out of all the souls in the county, I am one of the chosen. I have a problem with it. First of all because the D.A. has absolutely no style whatsoever. She reminds me of Miss Piggy. I think it might be the stocky little, frumpy gray suits and how I imagine her fleshy stubby hoof like feet stuffed into a pair of black Naturalizers. Her frazzled frizzy bleached dirty blond hair looming atop her head like a fuzzy beacon. Yet, Piggy has much more class. Piggy would only be seen coifed to the nines and in full Prada.

Although she doesn't know me personally, she's seen me.

An aquaintance of mine owns a very snazzy shop and has a swanky party there every year. In my salad days a few years back I was hopped up on cheap red wine and on my way out of the gala laughing crazily. I knocked over some candles beneath her steely glare. Babbling and chattering incoherently my friend directed me to the outrance. Smooth move. This year during his open house she just happened to be talking to him when I came into the shop. He greeted me warmly with a hug as I gave him a picture of Snowflake as Willow Boy.

She looked at me as though she were a Grizzly Bear and I had stolen her fresh trout. Okay, I will give her that, she has the power of the glare, yet it seems to be wasted on her unkempt appearance. Her "Do" is layered, feathered, and flipped back with floofy bangs curled under, spacked stiff like the comb-over on Donald Trump. This is not so bad. It's the back of her head that is the problem. She has the ratty-gnashed-I-just-got-fucked-laying-on-my-back-over-and-over-because-my
-husband-can't-come-look.

Top it off with some liquid black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, glossy hot pink lipstick on thin pursed lips , (pancake batter courtesy of Max Factor) and you have Way Upper Midwestern Legal.


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Saturday, December 10, 2005

A Record Saturday



Snowy Saturday. Flakes whirling down, fat and fluffy. What a beautiful hour outside! Here is the Fabulously Crunchy With Style Glamgranola with Snowflake and her gorgeous boy. She is one dynamic kick-ass mamma! She's so prepared. For instance, we forgot our stroller and Ta-Da! Glamgranola just happens to have TWO in the back of her bitchin' sport wagon! She also brought hot chocolate for the boys. Classy and Crunchy!



Here are the Mini GQ's in front of Santa's Mailbox. They are so seriously cute I could cry! Just two beautiful babies. Before the caroling started we went to see Santa. Glamgranola thought Surfer Boy would freak, but he was so laid back he actually hung out on Santa's lap so she could get a few photos. Snowflake just nodded no gracias everytime the subject was broached. It was just too precious to see these two baby boys experiencing new things and flowing with it.

Needless to say I don't think any records were broken. The crowd was thin yet festive. People enthusiastically sang in unison. Unfortunately all the songs sounded like Negro Spirituals or Monastic Chants because they were way way way way way low down downtown, whydonchacomeupandseemesometimelouisarmstrong... It was wonderful to be out and about on a snowy morn. Seeing a man sporting his Hunter Orange Ski-Doo snowmobile jacket and topping his head off with a fur mullet made from something dead, brought smiles to our faces. It's like the northwoods Red Badge of Redneck. It just made it all worthwhile. I actually think he had his jeans peg legged into his ankle boots.

And last but not least, here WE are. I don't have many pictures of the two us together and I thought this one was great. You can see Dear Old Santa in the cherry picker in the upper left corner. He led the carols and he had REAL Santa hair. He was an amazing first Santa! I have to thank Glam for snapping it. She's a Glamamma!

The Blue Russian & CHRISTMAS CONtroverSy




The calm quiet of my Friday night didn't start until 10:30pm. I am the mamma of a NON-NAPPER. Ugh! The smart part of me knows I should have my ass in bed, resting for tomorrow's tribulations. The old single girl of yore in me wants to stay up into the wee hours, drink LOTS of vodka and buy a pack of Reds. I settle for a Blog instead.

Here is The Comrade in question, looking positively cherubic last Sunday during a festive sleigh ride through the front yard. Don't let this image fool you. I've decided to start calling him Hellraiser. Yeah, like as in PinFace...

Seriously. The love affair is over. Snowflake is into another biting stage. I know this coincides with his exhaustion as a NN(Non-Napper). I have to admit, when he comes a runnin' for my leg cackeling like a crazed rabid chipmonk I actually get a little freaked out.

I keep telling myself this too shall pass, Mamma-san.

Tomorrow, Snowflake and I are going down to the town square with Glamgranola (aka Crunchy With Style) and her super cute surfer boy baby. It just sounds so "It's A Wonderful Life." Yes, the homespun denizens(we are denizens, just not too homespun) of this community are going to attempt to get into The Guinness Book of World Records. We will attempt to have the largest group of singing carolers IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. It's something to do OUTSIDE! YAR HAR HAR!

When the holy roller right wing Bushsters caught wind that there would be no religious carols, hellfire and brimstone broke loose! The Cornbread Goodness factor said they would boycott, they simply would not attend and they would encourage others to do the same. Keep the Christ in Christmas for Christ's Sake, eh? Caving to the pressure, the local event staff ammended the set list to include "O Come All Ye Faithful" and "Silent Night."

Can I get a HELL-YEAH?


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Friday, December 09, 2005

Taking Chaos for Granted



Snowflake passed out from raising hell. A rare photo caught last weekend. It was the time to take the opportunity to have his creepy freaky little BooBah peering over his shoulder for a silent photo-op. A mommy's twisted revenge! Wouldn't it just freak him out!

Today I brought Snowflake to work. Oh joy! If I haven't said it before, it's like bringing chaos to work.

While I was on the phone getting insurance quotes, I could hear the other line ringing and ringing and ringing. After I hung up I walked back to my office and there was Snowflake, standing on top of my desk, with a pushpin in one hand pointing at it with the other saying, "Ouch". "Yes", I said, "That is owies," grabbing if away from his meaty little hand.

I noticed the phone was off the hook so I hung it back up. My mother calls exasperated, "Where were you? I thought something happened! I called you five times and everytime somebody picked up the phone and didn't say anything. Then I heard them just hang up!"

Yep, that would be Snowflake.

Then Big Pappy calls and asks me if my mother spoke with me. Yes. "Well, she was ready to jump in her car and fly down there! She thought something happened!" OMG!

Chalk it up to my parents having lost one child already. They worry, ALOT! I cannot even fathom losing Snowflake... I can barely think of such a thing let alone type it.


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Thursday, December 08, 2005

Ho Ho Ho Low Down

I need a day's worth of deep cleansing breaths. Ms.Mamma's mamma has been watching Snowflake since August. At that time I was unable to continue bringing him to work with me because he was and partially still is at the Tasmanian Devil Stage of development.

My mamma said she wanted to do it, but I don't think she truly meant it. Almost 60, she has complained, whined and griped about the situation almost everyday in blatant and obscure ways. Today she said that if Snowflake wasn't at her house everyday she would only have to Swiffer "once every two weeks." Whaaaaaa? My parents are clean freaks. Yet, they have the messy gene. Read a newspaper and it's all over the floor in a million pages. Somehow everything seems to be Snowflake's fault.

I think all of her complaining comes from TJ Maxx withdrawl. No longer can she casually sport on over and linger the aisles of her favorite store. At least not for five hours of the day. By the time I come to get him she is wiped out.

God! It is SO sucky seeing your parents age. I like to believe that this is all a bunch of B.S., but maybe she can't really handle it. A part of me thinks she's completely spoiled. Wait... or is that me?! This is supposed to end next September when Snowflake, at the ripe old age of 2.5 years will be old enough to go to Montessori. She acts like it's a complete death sentence.

This morning I had enough of it. I told her I would find a complete stranger to take care of him. I left and 10 minutes later she calls me to tell me that Snowflake learned a new word... "vaccum." No one from Montessori will call me to tell me when he's learned a new word. Being a single mother can really bite sometimes.

I found a Montessori school that takes two year olds. He will be two in March. I wonder if she can hold out that long? I started to bawl, thinking of leaving my little bambino with a bunch of strangers for a whole day, a whole week at a time. I could puke. I know people do it all the time and I'm lucky for the start he's had but, forking A! Does everything have to be so damn difficult?

She thinks she's depressed...

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Likin' A LikeABike





When I came home from work the parcel was in the breezeway. The moment was upon me, the LikeABike had arrived! It is so adorable and well made I cannot wait to see Snowflake's reaction. Funny how the name LikeABike contains IKEA... it's so damn Euro. It looks great on my kitchen c-top too!

While Snowflake napped I attached the handlebar. It came with these rubber handgrips that are IMPOSSIBLE to put on. I even heated them up in the oven in an attempt to stretch them onto the handlebars. FORK that! I gave up after cracking open my dry fingers trying to get them on for the kajillionth time...the LikeABike will remain au natural for the bambino.

It is just such a wonderful thing. It's gorgeous to look at, too. He will be zooming around on it in no time. Can I wait until Christmas?! I suppose. I'm a deal hound so I searched until I found the best price. Babyride.com has the lowest price for the Original or the Mountain. No tax, free shipping plus ten dollars off! Dang! What a steal!

Hey, I'm just a Material Girl living in a material world. Just kidding.


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Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Baby Briber



I'm a BAD, BAD mamma! I specifically bought this hat for Snowflake to wear in order to take a cool photo of him for our Christmas cards. Well, after dicking around for what seemed like an eternity, I pulled out the big guns...

I said, "If you wear this hat so mommy can take your picture I'll give you some POP!"(that's midwestern for SODA).

His face lit up like a beaming Vegas slot machine. "Pop! Pop! Pop!" he cooed in the sweetest of voices.

Working at lightening speed, I quickly whipped on his faux fur chapeau. This is the money shot. It's not quite what I wanted, but it's good enough.

This morning he was hanging in his crib while I was getting ready for work. I could hear him chattering in a sing-song voice..."Pop, Pop, Pop...C-oh-kuk. C-oh-kuk!" Have I created a monster or a Coke Fiend?!

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Monday, November 28, 2005

Toy Whore

For the past two nights I have found myself staying up into the wee hours to find Snowflake's Christmas presents. Drooling at the fine sweet treats that wait for him Christmas Morning, I am caving in to the gross materialistic consumerism that drives our society all in the spirit of the season. I think I am a Toy Snob.

Yes, I look down with a disgusted tsk! to Fisher-Price and Playschool, plastic and batteries. Today's cheap, mass produced toys leave little to the imagination and they are just so annoying you want to find creative ways to destroy them for you own twisted pleasure!

It's not about quantity. It's about gorgeous, wonderful wooden objects of functional art that will create amazing memories for Snowflake. It's about him opening up a box in 30 years to find that his toys are perfect for his own babies. Last year for his birthday I bought him a bunch of building blocks from HABA. These are like the colorful blocks that I had as a child and you cannot find them anymore. They are made of hard maple and lacquered with lush bright stains, some in unusual shapes.

Christmas will bring Snowflake a "Like-A-Bike" from Germany. It is so cool, I can hardly wait. It teaches a toddler to balance long before they get on their first real bike. Bonus= they never need training wheels. Then there are the toys from Vilac, a company in France that has been making toys forever. One is a wooden blue plane pull toy with St.Exupery's Little Prince riding in the cockpit. SWEET. The other is a beautiful wooden clown push toy. I couldn't resist ordering a luscious "Fan-Fan the Elephant" pull toy for Sid's bambino. There are more...

I could go on and on, excitedly touting every detail of all the precious presents I purchased, describing the Rolls-Royce like finish, the non toxicity of it all, the SpielGut award... I would be in a gleeping frenzy! Suddenly the thought occurs to me...

I am a Toy Whore!

Thursday, November 24, 2005

The Warmth of Winter



All the small things that mean so much. Words can barely describe those moments when we feel blissful joy and unconditional love. I did a little holiday decorating outside for Snowflake. This is a branch on his funky tree. To say that I was overwhelmed when I saw the expression on his face when I showed it to him last night for the first time is an understatement. That smile, the wonderment and curiosity blew me away. I cried tears of joy! I told him I did this for him. Everytime he sees it he points to it and says,"Mom." And I say "Yes, my sweet, mommy did that just for you". I can melt even in the coldest winter.


The Truth About Kinkadia

Thanksgiving Evening. Families gathering around a bountiful table, beaming with love for one another, telling each other just how happy and important they are to one another. All Norman Rockwellesque. I imagine my beautiful mother swelling with pride as everyone raves about the most amazing meal they've ever eaten. My dad sheepishly gives her a pat on the ass and a quirky smile that only she can understand. "Oh, Edward!" she gushes. "Stop that or you'll be cruisin' for a bruisin' later!"

My brother and his girlfriend gaze at one another over the glow of candle light, rosy flushed cheeks, smiling at their new baby boy. The pure love is palpable.

Snowflake enjoys his first Thanksgiving meal in his highchair all by himself, savoring every last bite, although most of his sweet potatoes make him look like a newly tinted redhead.

The conversation is bright, lively and comfortable. My dad begins to speak, telling us all how happy and fortunate he feels to have such a wonderful family. He begins to choke up as he remembers my brother Thom who died five years ago. He would have been 34 years old on the 29th. Sid and I rally around him, comforting him with words and love.

We savor this meal and afterwards everyone enjoys congregating in the kitchen, telling funny stories as we clean the joint back up. Then we all gather around the fireplace for warm snifters of Brandy and these amazing mints Mother made from scratch. It is a beautiful evening that ends with lots of hugs, warmth and love as Sid & Nancy and I leave their home to go our separate ways.

Looking back I can see them, standing in the open doorway, arms intertwined, waving goodbye to us on this dark, cold starry filled night. I swear to God there is a little twinkle off my mom's teeth when she smiles as I leave.

Thomas Kinkade could not paint the high voltage glow bursting out of the windows at this family homestead.

The reality is just so, so... so NOT Thomas Kinkade. The only glow coming from this house were the flames coming off the bottom of my feet as I Mach-Oned it out of there, slamming the door as I went. It was the usual send off of holiday fare for our clan.

The meal was exquisite. Every morsel delectable to the last crumb. I think Sid and Big Dad were done within 15 minutes tops. Then it was off to the couch for the sound of silence and more beer. The drone of the television taking the place of any thoughtful conversation.

The ladies and babies enjoyed this ocassion, lingering in the dining room, laughing and enjoying every moment together. Leftovers stashed, dishes done. Big Dad and Sid retreated to the den to watch "Goodwill Hunting" just as we joined them, leaving us alone for more bonding time.

Movie completed, it was time for Sid and Nancy to leave to join her parents for Thanksgiving #2. Car loaded, goodbyes said, Big Dad joins us in the living room, turning on the television to watch football.

"Did Sid seem a little down to you?", mom says to my dad.

"Yeah. He just visited with his friend who is a successful real estate agent in Florida and has a life," he says, "He's thinking about his life and it's disgusting!"

"Just like what you're doing, it's a shame," he directs to me.

Here we go...

I don't need to get into the sordid details here, but basically what I hear is, IT'S DISGUSTING=YOU'RE DISGUSTING. IT'S A SHAME=YOU ARE AN EMBARASMENT TO ME and so on and so forth. Like Faberge Organics shampoo & Farrah Faucett, it all keeps multiplying over and over. Then the whole go back to school topic comes up. I totally kept my cool, informed them that Snowflake and I would be spending Christmas together HERE because I refuse to spend special times with someone who obviously thinks so little of me. Why fake love? Why fake it for the sake of holidays?

I will not allow Snowflake to grow up thinking that the way his Gramps treats people(women) is normal. Snowflake is going to have self esteem made of steel. Yet, he will be compassionate and sensitive to all plights.

We left and Snowflake fell asleep almost immediately in the car which gave me time to bawl my eyes out to Scarborrough Fair, which just happened to be on my radio.

Will this ever end I thought to myself. Master of Light? Master of Bullshit is more like it. The lights are on, but that glow is so false. Thomas Kinkade can kiss my white ass.





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Sunday, November 20, 2005

Sanitized for My Protection

I have this wooly, natty, ratty, rusty brown and black sweater that I have worn for what seems like forever. It is a cardigan but only one button remains at the top. It is full of holes that I just don't seem to notice. I put it on over my sweater and it makes a great little coat pared with my moth ridden scarf.

It has walked with me through some rough and happy times in life. I just cling to it. I think it may be my security blanket. Like Linus, I just can't seem to survive without it in the fall, winter and early spring. Nothing else is quite so me. So comfortable.

Earlier this fall my mother ordered me to remove it so she could burn it. She said, "Ms.Mamma, take that nasty thing off! It weighs you down and today is a new day!" I had the look of sheer horror on my face... "No way!" I gasped like a scared little kid. How dare she try and take my woobie from me! I just couldn't part with it. I wear it everyday.

She was shocked to know that the manager of a store commented on it. She beamed how she just LOVED MY SWEATER! I couldn't believe it. I actually laughed in her face and said, "You've gotta be kidding?! My mom thinks I should cremate it!" Then I think...hmmmm is she just doing a little ass kissing or does she dig it? I decided she dug it it because it IS the coolest old sweater around.

I went about my favorite day as usual. Sundays just have such a luxurious feel to me. I went to my neighbor's to borrow something and we chatted for a while. They have these two adorable teensie weensie puppy dogs. Being the canine lover I am I scooped up Louie the supposed Pomeranian with gusto for a nice little rub. His "carnie" owners claimed the pup to be purebred, but he turned out to look more like a Spitz. He is a great tenacious lover. So spunky he defies his amped up bark collar. He actually wore/burned the hair off of his throat. He doesn't care. You can hear him rousing the neighborhood every morn', as it should be. He is a true dog and I love him.

Fed Ex is a chihuaha-jack russel terrier mix. He is drop dead sexy in his couture polar fleece and custom leather and dog bone charm collar. He is a gorgeous red color with a black mask. You just want to eat this dog up when you see him. He has one big problem though. He is a submissive.

He didn't want me to pick him up but when he saw the love Lou was getting, he changed his mind. Well, I pick him up and we're just happy as clams. After a conversation about how he peed on her brother the last time they were together, I said "Really! He didn't pee on me!"

WRONG!

I walked into my house and The Chidler just zoned in on my left side, where I was holding the wizzer. Yes, I did not escape as I thought. Feeling my security blanket I skim over the pee soaked wool. Ugh! YUCKIES! I whip it off and have flash backs to my mother and I think maybe it is time, maybe this is a signal that I should just sentence it to the dumpster once and for all.

I have to say it came out really nice after a good washing. It removed years of debris and it is actually a little fluffy now. I think I might throw it away tommorrow. Probably not.

It's almost like new.


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Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Mamma Bear Unleashed

Tonight Snowflake and I had din-din with Nana, Gramps, Sid & Nancy. Everything was the same as usual. My mother cooks and everyone else gobbles it down and leaves her with the mess. Except for me. Tonight was different. Tonight I lost it. I blew like Chernobyl. Sometimes I wonder if I over-react. Do I? Sid seemed half buzzed up when he arrived courtesy of Gramps. Neither Sid nor Nancy have fully functional driver's licenses.

After drinks and dinner Sid is ready to leave, pronto. In the meantime, Nancy has barely finished her glass of vino and is in the midst of showing baby pictures to Nana. Does he bother to ask her if she's ready to go? Of course not. This isn't my gripe.

In the midst of his buzz he gets up to use the bano. Snowflake, unbeknownst to me, accompanies him. I'm looking around and say, "Where's Snowflake?"

Just then he comes walking out of the bathroom with Sid(who happens to be his uncle). I said, "Was he in the bathroom with you?"

"Yeah", he says.

"Did he see your penis?"

"Yeah, You know it's perfectly a natural part of life, sister," he non-chalantly states.

I completely lost it.

"Yeah, it's perfectly natural if you have a dad in the house, but we don't! That is so fucked!" I seethe. I have a full blown tirade. Snowflake has never seen me like this.

I am absolutely livid. Oh yes, Snowflake comes to the bathroom with me, but I don't spread my legs and say "Look here's my pussy! Check it out!" Maybe I am a little whacked, but to me, it just paves the way for complete strangers. Hmmm... Snowflake will think it's okay for just any old freak to whip out his cock and fling it around. It may as well have been my next door neighbor or Bill Clinton. It just doesn't matter WHO it is.

It would also be different if Snowflake spent ALOT of time with his uncle, but he doesn't. As a single mother I don't live by the same order of a two parent household.

Maybe if I were a complete hosebag I wouldn't have a problem with it. Maybe I just need to let go and have some more Dick in the house. Penis' everywhere for everyone. Strange men using the bathroom and staying overnight so that when lil' Snowflake is potty trained and wakes to wee in the early hours he'll have a piss buddy. I can just imagine it, "Hey Little Buddy, I didn't know you were uncut?!"

Mommy what does "uncut" mean?

I don't think so. I am trying to do the right thing. At this point I really don't think Snowflake needed to see my brother's business, or really at ANY point. I am the Mamma Bear and he had no right to take that power from me. I'm sure it was an innocent mistake. Snowflake loves to flush the toilet. In this day and age you can never be too careful. Do not assume anything is okay with me.

I am the Mamma Bear, screw with Snowflake and I will rip your fucking head off.


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Sunday, November 13, 2005

Don't Look Him in the Eye (or the Ass)




My best friend always says, "Whatever you do, don't look him in the eye!" Why wouldn't you look this cute lil' baby in the eye? It unleashes a hellfire of ass-shakin', tongue lickin' DYN-O-MITE! The Chidler feeds off of raw body language and eye contact. At seven years old he is still a puppy, a self described lap dog who wants nothing more than a nice walk and lots of hugs. Yes, hugs. He enjoys standing on his back legs and wrapping his front paws around your waist.

If you DO look him in the eye at close range and he channels your nervous energy you may be in for a good tongue lashing with a heavy dose of ass breath. You may just pass out. I've tried it all...Greenies, bones,breath mints. I think it has something to do with his almighty jowls. The rest of him smells great...almost like chocolate chip cookies.

He's defintely not picky when it comes to food or snacks. I can remember one morning coming downstairs without my contacts in and seeing a sparkly glint of metal on the living room rug. Picking it up I find it is the underwire from my bra. Hmmmmmmm...methinks.

The next morning he is crapping out cups and straps from the bra. Thank goodness for the giant Catalpa leaves in my yard. On a different occasion I noticed LuLu's neckerchief from the groomer was missing. It was checked like a Pizza Hut table cloth.

I didn't really think anything of it until I saw The Chidler careening from spot to spot on his haunches(I always wanted to use that word in a sentence) straining. There is no mistaking a red checkered bandana coming out of a dog's asspipe. Once again I came to his rescue with a Catalpa leaf.

At least he draws the line at metal.

One day I came home from work and he had shredded a really nice linen and silk corded down filled throw pillow. It was like the North Pole on the living room floor. Feathers everywhere, but no linen and no silk cord. This time he brought the pug into the act. I cannot tell you just how much fun it is to pull "textiles 'n things" out of your dog's ass.

I look at it this way: what better preparation can you have for becoming a parent? Thanks Chidler! Poopy diapers are a breeze. I've never had to pull anything out of Snowflake's ass.

Yet.


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Friday, November 11, 2005

Moontime & ManHunks

Mi casa is like a morgue this evening as little Snowflake is passed out on the living room floor, exhausted from accompanying me to work today. The excitement of opening the oven, climbing up and standing on it's door over and over and over like a admiral at the helm of a great ship was too much for the little swab. He wore his po'sef out. When the wee pirate wakes I have a nice little nosh of Quinoa, edamame and tomato sauce to quell his hunger. And boobies for his nightcap. Ah, the pirates life.

I had a craving for a Mimosa. Cocktail at my side I hit connect on my dial up modem. After a nice long soak in my spa-like tub, painting my toenails and giving myself a facial, my homepage was just about loaded.

Warm and giddy I headed to yahoo! on a whim to peruse the personals. My inner "wild woman wolf" may have been excited if I were a flannel wearing, F-150 "bad girl who drives bitchin' toys" and has wet dreams about Nascar drivers or plans weekend getaways to Cabela's or Gander Mountain. I know WHY I never do this.

It's the same reason why I have IM's shut permanently off. "moontime" was incredibly persistent and funny. His avatar piqued my interest so I returned his hello. After 2o minutes of pleasantries ol' Moony just couldn't tell me enough how he just LOVED "moontime". In fact, he was obsessed with it.

When he asks me if I know what it is, I'm thinking it's like a fall harvest hippie kind of thing... full moons, whatever. WRONG! Turns out "moontime" is every chicks worst week of the month...aka the dreaded period. And then he mentions something about having one BIG red eyebrow as often as he can and loving it, REALLY loving it.

It was like being at the end of a really long, striped hallway hearing the reeee, reeee, reeee of the movie Psycho. This is the Freakish Disappointment that always turns me off. Just when you think it might be okay to jump in the pool, something is floating toward you and it is NOT a Baby Ruth.

Back at yahoo! a 36 year old single athletic man in my area wants a potential female to "check her baggage at the door". His photo: a picture of him shirtless turned to the camera at a strange blurred angle. This makes him appear as though he has only one front tooth that juts out at a weird angle or he's been smacked down ala "Deliverance". He is unshaven and he is definitely not smiling. He's probably thinking this was Brad Pitt sexy. I'm thinking potential ax murderer.

My top match for compatibility according to yahoo! is a 32 year old who wants me to "release the biker within me." I dig Vespas. Wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, glasses, sporting a mullet and furry 'stache, he claims his "ideal women would be someone who is confident & sexy, comfortable, social, athletic & energetic." Either he subconciously wants a three-or-moresome or he's looking for a lady to bust him out of his mom's basement and give him a break from his internet porn habit.

In 2005 shirtless with mullet is just so everyday to me. These are the male denizens of my community. Yet they almost beg to be retro. These chaps look so much older than they claim to be. Maybe it's just that they're so furry. I can't see the "real" them, literally. That combined with a cultural affinity for binge drinking makes Ms. Mamma happy to be at home with Snowflake on a quiet Friday night.

I think I'll have another Mimosa.


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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

A Boil On His Ass / The Luxury of Time



Have you ever seen a Whirling Dervish? It is a most mesmerizing experience. An ancient religious practice, men in flowing gauzy swathes of material, spinning, spinning, spinning with these crazy pointed hats on their heads. I feel like a whirling dervish sometimes. Spinning from day to day, week to week... endless, bottomless days that seem to meld and stretch into an eternity of "what's the point" and "this is all there is".

Don't get me wrong, life is GRAND, AMAZING and a true gift. I can't help but think I have somehow blown it all. Wasting the gift of youth on being too scared to leave the comfort of familial security. Ms. Mamma is on video as a spritely 18 year old dissing the community she now lives in. I said I would never live here, never work for my family. HA!

I live here. I bought a house here. I work for my family. I got knocked up and had Snowflake as a single mom at 35.

I am empowered by being Snowflake's mamma. This alone should give me the kick in the ass I so desperately need.

When I graduated, I wanted to become a professor. My father thought that was "stupid". He asked me how I could stand to teach the same thing year after year after year. He told me he would not help with graduate school and if it was something I wanted to do, I was on my own. I pussied out. At this point I'm not sure if I had a lack of confidence in myself or was just lazy.

I am sure my father shares the same DNA as Archie Bunker. And although he has a much larger bank account, everything has to be done on his terms. After 15 years he thinks I should now go back to school and become a teacher.

Interesting to note that when I told "Money Bags" I was applying to law school and taking Kaplan a year after college he was right there singing a new tune with his hand stretched out pledging his financial support.

I didn't become a lawyer. I became the boil on his ass. Someone he resents. Someone who leaches money out of his pockets. Someone he supports loathingly. Someone who no longer wants to be a teacher.

I don't know what I am going to be when I grow up. I don't know HOW I will support Snowflake if the family sells the business. I do know that we will be fine. He may not dress in Oilily, but he will be as gorgeous, as happy.

I know that I have been given the luxury of time. That is my father's gift to me. Something he has never had.


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Thursday, November 03, 2005

Tundra Bunny




Snowflake in all his glory, exploring the beach. October 29, 2005

Sexless in the City(Or Ode to the Oral-B)

Snowflake, The Chidler and I live in what most would consider a teensy bumblefrick town in the Midwest. Population roughly 50,000 or so including "outlying inbred areas". Snowflake is pushing 20 months and it has been over TWO YEARS since I, your humble servant have gotten laid. That just BLOWS MY MIND. Is it time to call the appliance guy, the furnace guy or just jump the mail carrier?!

I have not had sex since I left Snowflake's sperm donor one late September evening in 2003. I'm sure I could snag another uneducated damaged male who thinks "news is stupid" if I really wanted to, but why? As one hip mamma once chimed "When you lay down with a dog you get fleas- or a baby". BINGO! As an educated person, I have to admit that the attraction was purely physical to Snowflake's Y connection. Incredibly cute but for one major physical flaw... Teeth like a demented hillbilly on crack. My mother accused me of being on drugs for going out with him.

I had recently lost my brother and thought I could open up and give someone a chance rather than exclude them based on shallow observations. Note to self: BAD TEETH = BIG BIG PROBLEMS. I digress...

So what's a hot single mamma to do? Ask yourself the same question some woodcutter asked me one day in the office... DO you know BOB? I said, no. "Battery Operated Boyfriend" he said... Immediately I acknowledged, "Oh, yeah, sure". Everyone shags themselves! Except for the armless. I mean isn't THAT a given? I'm sure I would have spontaneously combusted if it weren't for my Oral B 3-D toothbrush. Totally discreet and rechargeable! Just lock the bathroom door and if someone knocks, you're just brushing your teeth, damn it!



UPDATE! May 11, 2007 Still riding the wave. I'm the Queen of the Castle, Mistress of My Domain.

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Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Babies & Bidets... What's the connection?

Time flies at warp speed and October was just another casualty. Baby and I enjoy every minute we have together. I have never been a mamma to rely on props for entertaining him. I never "put him in a bouncy chair" to space out at semi-inanimate objects. Babies seem like major inconveniences to most of the mothers I see.

Someone very close to me recently had a baby. Let's call them Sid & Nancy. Not married and years between them, he's 31 and she's 23, they appear to be a recipe for disaster . Their baby watches the flickers on a televison screen with hypnotic abandon. Put that baby in a cheesy Fisher Price "special chair" and he is in another dimension. Although Sid pays for everything, Nancy can't help but whine and bitch about how hard it is to get everything done even though she is at home full time.

Hmmmm... Imagine what it must be like for Ms. Mamma. Doing it ALL ALONE, like so many other mammas.

Nancy is sooooo busy everyday all the time doing whatever it is that she does that the baby gets a bath only two times a week. Ummm, ok. Some of you birds will say... "hey, little babies don't get really dirty until they can crawl." Well, my friends, babies still get poo on their bums! Diapers are hot and sweaty and a wipe can only do so much. My bambino has always gotten a bath pretty much everyday. He oozes Burt's Bees Baby Bee Aroma. It is what a baby should smell like when you pull them close, not an old ski cap that someone wore for twelve weeks.

Maybe the American aversion to bidets stems from infanthood. A once over is good enough until bathing time. God forbid I should wash my a-hole after taking a dump! That would be sick!


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Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Willow Boy


An amazing photograph I took of Snowflake on September 18, 2005 when he was exactly 18 months old.

And Then There Was One...

It is painfully quiet without Gingko the pug and LuLu the lhasa in the house. There are just three of us now... the baby, The Chidler and me. Hey, three is a magic number. A good number. When I came home from work I immediately noticed the funk was gone. I vaccummed and scrubbed all the floors. I put away their dishes.

The three of us went for our nightly trek. When we came by the tattoo shop I noticed a young tribalized couple sitting on the steps. On her lap was a brand new pug puppy. We walked over and I told them I had just euthanized my black baby boy. They were sad for us. I see it as a sort of signal that my sweet pug is okay, peaceful. How totally weird though. I started to tear up a bit but grabbed ahold of myself. I told them to enjoy that sweet puppy.

This morning I tortured myself by attempting to find any stray black pug hairs on the floor. A guy named Phil once wrote that if there was a nuclear war, all the cockroaches running around afterward would be wearing fur coats made of pug hair because the existence of a pug hair is measured in half lives. I beg to differ. I found one or two, but it was difficult.

I take really amazing photographs and thankfully there are many of the dogs. I show the baby the pugs picture and I say "who is that?" and he chimes back in his sweet little voice "Gink". I don't want him to forget.

The real joy that animals bring us cannot be compared to our human relationships. No one can offer us unconditional love the way a pet can. Everyone says that, but it is true. There are too many dynamics in our relationships with other people. These dogs went with me through my twenties after college, when I truly thought I knew it all. They were with me when I realized that I didn't know a damn thing. They loved me the same.

How many people can you say that about?


Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Clean Them or Kill Them

I have been keeping them clean. Everyday they get the swab down, a once over with baby wipes or a warm washcloth. She isn't so bad, but he is just crustified. Thanks to her incessant grooming of his ears with a warm comforting tongue he has chronic infections. There are things living in his ears that came from his ass. Why? Because she is also his asslicker. I have a song I sing to the baby about this that always makes him smile and giggle. It's only one simple obnoxious line consisting of "Lick Your Own Ass Lu-Lu / Lick Your Own Ass Lu-Lu"

They have been with me through so much: alone and pregnant, now the mamma of an 18 month old bambino, the death of my 27 year old brother, everything that happens to all of us in life.

He is almost blind... scratching his bulbous eyes on the thorny wild berry vines intertwined around his beloved concord grapes. The grape vine is over 80 years old. Every summer for the last 11 years Gingko has found his way to the lush fragrant plant growing on the side of my house, disappearing into the foliage, feasting on it's blue fruit, snorting like a crazed pig.

She is the Alpha. Years ago I dubbed her the "saucy Bitch". The oldest and smallest, she is also the most controlling. Never letting the other two have too much fun. A sweet terror. She has breathing spasms now and a big lump on her side. She still hasn't realized at the ripe old age of 13 that she farts. Everytime it happens, she whizzes around as if she's been cattle-prodded from beyond. This too inspired another one liner for the baby. A punkish tome that goes like this- "Lu-Lu and the ASS GHOSTS/ Lu-Lu and the ASS GHOSTS!"

Two months ago my mother commented on Lu-Lu's Yeti like appearance, "Clean them or kill them!" I got her groomed, but now it is time to let the two of them go. I vacillate thinking hmmm... they were so spritely this morning, forgetting the day last month when Gingko couldn't even get up to go outside. There never seems to be a right time. My sweet loves, you will always be my first babies... Forgive me.


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