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.

celebrity, perfume, stench, antonio banderras, scary

Like A Nice Snowblower

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.

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.


christmas, guilt, family, crappy, presents

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!


lapdances, strippers, drinking, holidays, dysfunctional, family

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!


gagging, puking, baby, toddler

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!

vegetarians, beef, family, holidays, angst

Three Months Without

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.


mood swings, depression, happiness, commercials

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.


werewolves, mistakes, instinct, stolen, ghosts

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.




chunky, baby, bath, photo

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.


secret, lives, dwarves, real, horney

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.

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.

female, empowerment, blow, jobs

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.

boobs, nip ons, ice hotel, freezing, house, winter, outrageous, heating, bill, breastfeeding

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.


twisted, baby, photo

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.


lawyers, frumpy, classless

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?


christmas, controversy, toddler, hellraiser

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.


boobah, photo, crazy

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...

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.


like a bike, likeabike

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?!

bribing, babies, parenting, coke, fiend