Is it just me or are purified ice cubes overkill?

Disney on Ice is coming to Nashville (Princess Wishes edition) in September. Have you ever been to a Disney on Ice production? Would Caitlin, who is 4, really love it or would it be overwhelming? And would we spend her college fund money on overpriced merchandise? Wait, I think I already know the answer to that.

My subliminal mind is on vacation. Last week I dreamed that I booked an impromptu trip to Jamaica. This morning I dreamed about Jimmy Buffett hitting on me (blog entry forthcoming!) It must have been the four chocolate chip cookies I ate at 10 o’clock last night. (This is why I never bake.)

Fast Company’s blog, FC Now, has a brief mention of the BlogHer conference that just took place. There are only two comments (presumably both from men). They have a fairly negative reaction to a female driven blogging organization. So what do you think? If there was a “BlogHim” organization would that send women’s groups up in arms? Would the women on The View slam on a boys club for bloggers? Personally I think the commenters need to read more about BlogHer before they criticize it (and the blog post has not been updated post-conference), but would a “BlogHim” phenomenon cause divisiveness? It is interesting to look at it from a male perspective, however the purpose of BlogHer is not to magnify differences between male and female bloggers. It’s intent, and forgive me because I am not associated with BlogHer and I did not attend, I would presume is to create a sense of community and support for women bloggers. So if there are any men who happen to stop by my blog, what do you think of BlogHer? Are gender specific blogging organizations a negative thing?

The Golden Panties

Originally uploaded by blondemom.

When I sorted through our mail last week there was a lightweight package from my friend Kaye in Kentucky. Before I greedily tore the paper I knew what it was without feeling the luxurious nylon/lycra spandex blend between my fingers. The golden panties!

For the past several years, whenever my college buddies and I get together (which, unfortunately, is getting fewer and farther between considering we all live in different states) we always pass along the same prank gift–a gawdy pair of antique gold high waist panties purchased by Kaye from Dollar General that have been finely crafted from a “light weight fabric” that gently “molds the figure.” They look like something a WWF wrestler or fashionably inept superhero might wear. Kaye heard that I had pneumonia and she knew the powers of the Golden Big Ass Panties would magically heal me (or at least make me laugh.)
(Read on …)

I’m a sucker for both animals and great childrens’ books. Both our dogs are certified mutts. Bailey was adopted from the Nashville Humane Association for her gigantic rabbit like ears and super doggie neurotic tendencies and the hubby rescued Jack from a ditch after he had been hit by a car and left for dead on Thanksgiving weekend five years ago. Randy Houk, president and founder of The Benefactory, sent me a few copies of their great children’s books last month. They are true stories about real animals and our resident 4-year-old children’s book reviewer, Caitlin, loves them. She even requested that “Ruffle, Coo and Hoo Doo,” a story about great horned owls and parrots sharing a nest in the same tree, go with her during her recent visit with our parents. My favorite is “Chessie, The Travelin’ Man,” which is about an endangered manatee who swims up the East coast.The Benefactory was founded in 1990 in an effort to bring nature to life for young readers and to foster humane and responsible treatment for all living things. For more information about The Benefactory’s books, which are also available in video or audio featuring narration by Grammy and Emmy winning musician Tom Chapin, visit their website here at thebenefactory.com. You can also reach them via their toll-free number at 1-866 PAWPAL 0, (1-866-729-7250). The Benefactory is making Storytelling Kits available to volunteer groups at a discounted cost, so if you have a children’s group you work with you may want to check that out!

Just a few of the things I am thankful for this fine Thursday (once again inspired by Shauna at O, Pish Posh!):

Mr. Pneumonia HAS LEFT DA HOUSE! My doctor ordered a chest x-ray early next week just to make sure everything is OK, though.

Amelia had a positive ear tubes recheck on Monday and does not go back to the ENT specialist for 6 more months.

Purity Heavenly Hawaiian ice cream. I have a strong recurring theme of margaritas (and martinis), boobs, and ice cream in this blog with a dose of Target and Britney Spears thrown in for good measure. Oh, and poop. Poop, the universal topic that brings all parents together.

The way Caitlin says “Your turn mommy!” after she says grace before supper, uh, when we remember to say grace.

Amelia’s current love affair with my purses. She likes to grab my purse, sling it over her shoulder, and toddle toward the back door like she is going out on the town.

The free kitchen play set my boss is giving us. FREE large toy! Big plastic play center for the girls! Yippeee! I’ve already cleared a space for it downstairs in the bonus/dog room. Now if I catch the dogs pretending to cook, I’ll post a photo on Flickr.

My mother buying the girls matching lime green monogrammed cooking aprons from Williams-Son0ma.

My husband’s unwavering ability to remain calm in situations wherein I commence to freaking out and seeking hard liquor or at least a jumbo bottle of Tylenol.

Sprayway glass cleaner. Fingerprints and dog nose prints be gone!

Real Crayola crayons given away to kiddos at restaurants such as this one.

My co-worker who made me laugh today by calling me just to let me know Lynyrd Skynyrd tickets were on sale for $10.

I’m a bit stressed because I have to do a telephone interview for a work project tomorrow at 8. As in 8 a.m. The funny thing is I work 8 to 5 so technically I’m supposed to be at work at 8. The brilliant thing is I’ve know for over a week these two gentlemen were saying 9 a.m. EST in their e-mail correspondence and it only hit me today that that translates into 8 a.m. CST, which is my time here in Nashville. I could actually do the phone interview from home, but between two small children and two dogs (one who is completely unpredictable about barking insanely at any given moment), I’ll be more at ease if I just get going and head on in to the office. So if you work with me, tomorrow is definitely a “skip the shampoo” day, although I will have on fresh deodorant.

Surely it’s no big deal to get to work at 8 a.m., right? We have a 15 minute grace period more or less so usually I roll in about 8:20ish. I mean I do have to drop the girls off at daycare and then drive the 8 miles or so to the office. But I used to be punctual. I used to consider tardiness right alongside other ills of society, like not opening doors for struggling pregnant women or running over little old ladies while they cross the grocery store parking lot. But now that I’m a mom I’m consistently 15 minutes late. For everything. I was talking to my neighbor last night and her 5-year-old daughter starts kindergarten in less than a month. The thing she’s worried the most about as far as the transition to kindergarten from attending Mother’s Day Out a few days a week? Getting her daughter to school by 8 a.m. So at least I’m not the only one struggling with the 8 o’clock hour.

Maybe if I practice getting to work at 8 starting now, we’ll be prepared for Caitlin to make it to kindergarten on time in a little over a year. Or maybe I’ll continue to live on MST (Mommy Standard Time) for as long as I can get away with it!

Now that we’ve entered the “no more babies” phase of our marriage, in some ways I feel that I am dipping my toes into unchartered, yet familiar waters. I feel like I can start paying a little bit more attention to me and not feel guilty about it. In some ways it’s awkward, like trying to flirt with myself. I’ve spent the last five years either thinking fertility or pregnancy or nursing or labor and delivery or bottles or weaning or swaddling or spitup and now the girls in some ways, especially physically, are just not as needy. I’m just trying to figure out what to do with myself now that I’m a.) finished birthin’ babies and b.) approaching 40 (GAH…in a little over three years). I’m at sort of a mental crossroads and I’m trying to discover this new person, that I hope in many ways is a stronger and better one post-motherhood. I tend to be a wee bit restless and lately I have this restlessness down deep in my core. I want to change things up, but I’ve never had two children to think of before…two small human beings who depend on me to provide them with happiness and stability and snuggling and bedtime stories. It’s an awesome responsibility and one I don’t take lightly.

How do you keep from losing yourself completely in motherhood? How do you find balance between making sure your hubby thinks you’re still one hot mama, not burning the morning toast, getting the kids to school dressed and clean, squeezing in “me” time for exercise or a lunch outing with a friend, and arriving at work at a decent hour each day with some semblance of professionalism? How do you make time for personal growth without feeling selfish or guilty? Sometimes the juggling act is overwhelming and I get lost in the shuffle of the daily grind. Somewhere, deep down, is the girl who would take off with a girlfriend for a weekend to Chicago “just because.” Somewhere, deep down, is the girl who went to New Orleans with a group of friends for Jazz Fest and danced barefoot in the grass. Somewhere, deep down, is the girl who visited the hubby years ago for 10 days and did nothing but lie on the beach, soak up the sun, and fall more and more in love with the man I would soon marry. I’m trying to find that girl. I know she’s in here somewhere.

Last week I crossed the invisible fence of foul language in front of my sister. She came over to check on me unexpectedly after work (because my mom asked her to after I sounded like death on a cracker over the telephone). “I HAVE EFFING PNEUMONIA!” Yes, I believe those were my exact words. None of the typical sugarcoating I put on for my family. Now the word, THAT word, wasn’t directed toward her. I was just plain frust-ur-rated as Caitlin would say.

The F word was never, EVER used in my house as a kid. I knew my mother was angry if she said “shoot.” On the rarest of rare occasions she would let a polite “dammit” slip. When I was 12 I thought the heavens would open and swallow up the eighth grade girl who said “crap” as we walked to the bus stop. I know. I was sheltered. And also I had no cable TV and only one Judy Blume book. So between myself and my best friend, who was a preacher’s kid, we were pretty well sequestered in good girls’ world.
(Read on …)