The Mini Van Soap Box

Few months ago my husband and I were at the Town Festival, sitting with some friends, discussing the merits of the new Transformer movie. None of us had seen it yet, but he and I had plans to see it the next day, and were both looking forward to it. Apparently we had our own reasons of wanting to see it. I wanted to see it for the graphic details, fine acting, and non-stop action. He wanted to see it because of some hot chick that's in it.

And I'm totally kidding. Oh, not about the hot chick - about the fine acting. However, I did say that I would totally put Shia "on my list".

I hadn't really given it much thought until last night while watching Top Chef - a commercial for Diet Coke, featuring Tom Colicchio came on. I told my husband two things (after I rewound the commercial a few times).

1. It's about damn time someone put that man in a commercial
2. It's time I re-did my list.

March of '08 my list consisted of: The entire male cast of Lost, Oded Fehr, Viggo Mortensen, Matthew Perry and Johnny Virgil*.

I'm afraid some cuts are going to have to be made. It's tough, I know, and I'm sure that these guys will be crushed to not be included again...but maybe if they work hard, they can be included next year. It's a tough business boys - women worldwide are at the ready with their Sharpie Pens and laminating machines.

Shall we? In no particular order...

1. Shia LaBeouf - Thought this kid was adorable when the movie "Holes" came out...But I'm pretty sure it would have been illegal to put him on my list back then

2. Colin Ferguson - The actor from Eurkea...Not the Mass Murderer.

3. Hugh Jackman - I know, I know - Cliche. And I prefer mine a little less "Wolverine" and more "Australia".

4. Tom Colicchio - I've got a thing for bald men. Especially bald men that can cook.

5. Having a hard time filling my last slot. I could take the easy way and give it back to the cast of Lost - but that's probably cheating. So, this year it will go to Joshua Jackson - and I never even watched Dawson's Creek. Was his name really Pacey in that show??

Ok. Your turn.

*I need a separate list for blog writers....but I don't think my husband is going to go for another set of 5

Sometimes I think it's hard to wrap your head around this blogging thing...especially when trying to explain to people who either don't do it, don't read them, or don't even know what they are. There is an entirely separate community I'm a part of, that most of my friends and family are not a part of that I sometimes have difficulty describing certain aspects of it.

Perfect example. I was talking to a friend the other day and she and her husband were considering doing some major house work. Maybe an add on, like a sun-room. Or maybe a new deck. They were throwing some possibilities around, the finances, how long it would take. I responded that a friend of mine was in the middle of building a new garage. I didn't really think that it had to be clarified before hand that the friend was Carolyn, who I've never met, have never spoken to on the phone, and have no idea who her general contractor is. However, that was exactly what my friend asked for...."Oh, can she give me the number of her..." Well hell. I just simply said she's out of state, and left it at that.

I don't WANT to have to clarify the difference between these friends and those friends. But the truth is, they are different. I don't send y'all Christmas cards. I don't have your phone numbers. And what's worse...Sometimes you're just gone. With no explanation.

I know people blog for different reasons. Some would like to potentially make money. Some do as a "live journal", some do it just for the outlet that it provides. Additionally, there are a lot of reasons why people quit. Maybe it's just not something you can keep up with, maybe the sense of anonymity that you wanted is gone, or maybe something truly horrible happened where you feel you can no longer keep doing it.

Just in the last few months I've lost 4 blogs in my reader. Just gone. It was actually six, but one person sent me a personal email and the other kind of had a quick "last" post before shutting down.

It's weird to be on the other end of that. Not really close enough to call them and ask "What the hell?", but at the same time you've been reading about their lives for years, you almost feel like you, I don't know, deserve an explanation. Strong word I know, and not really how I feel.

But it can feel like you lost a friend in a way. Even if only a cyber-one.

Hey Booger....

I'm not entirely sure why 5 years seems like such a benchmark age; maybe it's because it's the age you have to be before starting kindergarten - which is about to open an a whole new world to you, or maybe it's just a nice neat number that fits all on one hand. But either way, today you are five years old, and let me be the first to say that I am amazed that we haven't totally and completely screwed you up.

There are some things that you know about me already - things that you have decided all on your own. I'm sure you think that I'm funny and silly - but also firm and strict. I imagine that's confusing to you. You probably think that I say no too much - and have weird rules about bedtime, holding my hand, Sponge Bob Square Pants and those little Bratz girls. I further confuse you when I let you stay up late for no good reason, give you pancakes for dinner or let you play in the sprinkler with your clothes on. All in all, 5 years old can be a very confusing age.

But let me tell you some things about your ol' mom that you don't know yet, but I'm sure will find out soon enough. I am a big freak of paranoid nature. I'm scared of everything, and there has not been a moment in the last 1,827 days that I have not been in a constant state of fear. I'm perfectly aware that you are going to fall and scrap your knee, fall off your bike, get your finger caught in a car door and get your heart broken....those are the things that I know will happen, and while although I wish they wouldn't - they will. Just know that I will always be behind you to pick you back up and put you back on the bike, or get your finger out of the door - or to break the legs of the boy that screwed you over.

However, these are not the things that scare me the most - it's everything that I can't put a band aid on that is the scariest. Everything outside the walls of our house...everything I can't see. All of those horrible things that seem to happen to "everyone else". Basically all the reasons why your father won't let me watch the news anymore.

I know you won't understand any of this right now - part of me is glad you don't understand. But when I'm getting in on you because you run away from me at the grocery store - or because you still haven't nailed the whole "look both ways" before you cross the street....Just know that there is a reason. There is a reason for everything. I don't say no to be mean, and I don't yell because I like the sound of my voice.

I do these things because I love you. Too much.

Now go eat your broccoli.

Over the 4th of July weekend we drove to North Carolina to see some family. They had just moved into a new house - and still in the process of having boxes in both old and new - but had manged to get all the furniture into the new house so we had someplace to put our lazy butts for the three days we were there.

We eventually ventured outside to check out the yard, and all the plants that she inherited, when my husband and I looked down and both saw the same thing.

"Oh No" we both said

"What? What is it?"

For the next 20 minutes my husband and I gave a full detailed description of the Cicada Wasp. Where they live, how they burrow. What they eat. Wingspan. Color. Shape. Size. Migratory Patterns. Sexual Preferences. Favorite Color and TV Show. And of course the most important bit of information, is that they are truly minions of the devil himself. We've been battling these monsters of evil for the last two years, we are experts.

"Well...okay. What did you do about it? How do we get rid of them?"

"Oh. Well. You could use a really big broom"

"We just stay inside for the entire month of August and use Vitamin D supplements. That's really your best bet."

I was cleaning out some stuff under the kitchen sink and came across an old bottle of Drano and started laughing immediately. I imagine to most people Drano isn't funny....

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Many years ago I took a week to visit my gypsy sister (they move so much you would think they were in Witness Protection) and her family in Palm Springs. My husband and I knew that we just a few months from trying to start a family - and that I would inevitable turn into a basket case - so I took some "me" time and took the trip by myself. I spent a few days by myself just laying around the pool, and then spent the remainder of the week playing and drinking with them.

The first day we spent together, she told me that there probably wasn't any beer in the house, but that there was a Quick Stop sort of store right next to the house, so I could stop if I wanted on the way over. Being the kind and considerate sister that I am, I asked if there was anything else they needed, since I was stopping anyway.

"Oh, yea, actually. The bathroom sink is stopped up. Grab some Drano!" she said.
"No problem. If they have it, I'll get it."

Following the handy directions she gave me, I found the Quick Mart and ran in for my supplies.

A 24 pack of Coors Light, and a big ol' bottle of Drano.

Now, I'm not entirely sure if I looked tired, or sad. But apparently the sight of me buying large quantities of alcohol and a big bottle of poison set off her radar.

When she handed back my change, she made sure she put her hand on mine and said VERY slowly "It's a BEAUTIFUL day. ISN'T IT?!?!?!"

That's why Drano makes me a laugh. I still feel bad that I never went back to Quick Stop for the rest of the trip - but my brother in law made all the beer runs for the rest of the week.

Before I even start, I realize that everything that I'm about to say is basically supporting what I'm 'soapboxing'...But I'm hoping someone can explain the behavior.

I had posted a while ago that we took Jon & Kate off our Tivo. It was a pretty quick post, nothing mean about either of them - I didn't really think there was a need. I think I said something to the effect of "I won't say anything here that hasn't been said somewhere else already". But at the time I wrote it, it was a "topic" of my day, our house, my life - so I blogged about it. Which I think is what a lot of bloggers do.

Unrelated to that, I spend a unhealthy amount of time perusing trashy celebrity websites; People, US, Radar Online, and TMZ to name a few. And not so trashy - EW and TWOP. I like my television shows, and I like movies - although I don't get to see as many as I like.

What I'm confused about is this. If everyone is SO pissed off at these two, and are essentially demanding that this show be taken off the air; spouting that they are exploiting their children, they are horrible people and they are only doing this for the spot light and their 15 minutes...

Why do they continue to give them their 15 minutes?

The posts about this family on the trashy websites have hundreds of comments. Hundreds if not MORE. Is it really so hard to understand that if you want the celebrity to die around someone - then maybe you should stop paying attention?

There's also this really popular website that is dedicated to them - but not in a good way (which I'm not going to name because I fear hate mail). I'll admit, I've looked at it quite a bit. And for the most part, they do make good points, and it isn't filled with just a bunch of crazy people screaming I HATE KATE...But what kills me is that the biggest thing they stand behind is boycotting the show - but they run detailed SHOW RECAPS on the website!

Maybe its just clearer to me than some. If I don't like something on t.v., I turn the channel. I don't buy billboard space and make a stink. I have enough shit going on in my life that I don't have enough to time to take on a "cause" as silly** as some reality show. Not to mention that they are only feeding into the one thing that keeps them on the air.

I guess I don't get it.

**Heading off the hate mail. REALITY SHOWS are silly. Not, I repeat, NOT eight small children. Those children are darling and precious of what I've seen and do not deserve any of this. Kids are resiliant and I hope that one day they all write tell-all books and make millions and live plush lives.

None of the following is enough for a whole post - but I jotted them down during the week and stuck them in the my purse.

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My husband has been out of town all week, so I've been managing the double duty again. I was putting her down for bed the other night, after a particularly long day at work and a rather brutal round of "what the hell did you make for dinner" and she asked me to tell her a story instead of reading her one. Considering how tired I was, and that I would probably just steal someone else's work anyway - I told her to tell me one. She seemed excited at the prospect. The following was her story. Word for word.

"Once there was a dog.
He ran into the street....
and then he got crush by a car.
The end"

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About a week or so ago we took my car in for a routine oil change and tire rotation - yesterday my car was in the shop because the $60 routine stuff ended up costing me $587 at the auto shop. Apparently they screwed the rotation up severely, and unrelated to that, my rotors are shot. I feel better knowing that the car is safer to drive, but the cost of safe driving is going to force me to not eat or drink for the next three weeks.

I offered the guy at the auto shop my ovary as payment, since I have no intention of using them anymore, and I have two...so, technically I suppose I could live with one.

He told me that he really wasn't in the market for an ovary, but if I had a liver to offer, we could talk.

I said "Well no, I HAVE a kid - I need that liver"

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I dropped her off at school this morning and spent a couple minutes talking to some of her friends while saying goodbye. This was the basic conversation...All said at breakneck speed.

"I like Dinosaurs!" said boy
"I had Apple Jacks for Breakfast!" said other boy
"Look At Me! Look At Me" said girl
"Today Is Pizza Day!" said girl again
"I like Pizza Day!" said girl again
"My Mom Thinks My Dad Is A Jerk" said other little girl

My daughter turned and looked and me and said, "She's new"

I prefer things to be on a schedule - and by being on my "I'm a tight ass" schedule, I can't stay up late and watch any late night programming. Like Conan or Letterman, or Cinemax. However, since the creation of Hulu, the hour I take in the morning to get ready is now filled with Late Night laughter and merriment - just two days later than the rest of the world has seen it.

Every morning I tune into Conan O'Brien on The Tonight Show - and have it in the background on my laptop. I've enjoyed him taking over The Tonight Show - and especially at 6:15 in the morning it really doesn't take much brain power to follow what's going on. Stand Up, Guest, Guest, Silly Prank, Music Guest.

However, since he's taken over ,my favorite bit that he does is TWITTER TRACKER... Have y'all seen this? Maybe it's the fact that they keep blowing up little animated birds, but I think it's a riot. I've always kind of thought twitter was a bit strange - and will admit that I don't really get it. I mean...Why do I give a crap what Ashton Kutcher had for lunch, right? But the bit that they do - about the IMPORTANT updates that these celebrities throw out there, well, I just think it's funny.

Totally unrelated to Conan O'Brien...Dad Gone Mad/Danny Evans mentioned on his blog that he was on Twitter. And I love Dad Gone Mad. So, off I go to Twitter to sign up - just so I can follow him. I didn't really realize that I would have to create an account with them to 'follow someone', but I did, because I like him, and with his book coming out soon - I imagined he was going to have some interesting things to say - but maybe not as much time to have daily posts. So, I joined for Danny. (I'm sounding a bit stalkerish, aren't I?)

So, I follow Danny. And that's it.

This is where it gets weird. I logged into Twitter this morning to see if Conan twitted - because I just think THAT would be funny as hell.....And I see that three people are following ME. Why are they following me?

So now I feel like an asshole. Because I don't twit. Or...I haven't twated? No, that's not right.
Now there's pressure. Pressure to write something that's more funny that what I had for lunch. Because it's really not interesting....at all....as a matter of fact....I didn't have lunch.

So....follow me on twitter...because today I told three people that I was an asshole and it's only down hill from here.

Apparently in the time it took to sleep a normal amount of hours last night, the sun came about 50 million miles closer to earth...because when we woke up this morning it was already pushing 200 degrees.

I exaggerate. But only slightly. It's one of those days in D.C, where you can feel your air conditioning cursing you, the tires on the car are actually melting into the pavement, and the radio has to stop every five minutes for public service announcements because it's not safe for old people or dogs outside. Apparently it's also too hot for 5 years old to play outside at school.

So, I kicked off work early and picked her up, knowing with out having something to excite her she was going to be a basket case when we got home. I have been putting off a certain task for quite some time - something I was thinking I would do right before the "official" school year started...it being KINDERGARTEN and all....But I'm afraid I can't put it off any longer....

I picked her up to get her hair cut.

I walked into her room, and casually mentioned to her teachers "Hey Ya'll - Say Goodbye to her long hair, we're off to get it cut!"

But apparently what I really said was "Hello Evil Child Educators! Release My Child From Your Dirty Grasps So I May Take Her Home And Set Her ON FIRE!" For the reaction to me cutting her hair was, well, severe - to put it mildly.

I'm a little afraid to take her to school tomorrow....Ransom notes on my windshield...Made of hair clippings....

Since we're on the subject of me being an awesome mom...

Every night after bath, I tuck the little one in - and she decides if she wants a book read or if she just wants to talk. Did you read that internet? I read to my daughter! I talk to my daughter! I may not feed her dinner - but I communicate with her! That should satisfy all you "talk to the children like they are real people" people.

So, anyway. Last night she decides that she does not want a book OR to talk. She would like me to make UP a story for her. Entertain me mother! And since I am a mother who COOKS DINNER now, I see no reason why I can't make up some interesting bedtime stories.

Not but 10 minutes before I walked into her room, I had been thinking of my 3 hour trek to Costco that I have planned for this Saturday to research meats and produce (don't judge), so my story begins with Talking Vegetables.

It was actually quite a captivating story...and the more I talked....the more interested she got. We had talking Asparagus, Tomato, Carrots and little baby radishes! These vegetables had adventures! These vegetables could talk! These vegetables were funny! And in this particular gruesome scene, they fought off the big bad Pork Roast - with a squad of Army Peas!

So, here's the problem. The more I talked....The more captivated I became. I actually started thinking what a fucking BRILLIANT idea I had had. I have never ONCE even considered writing a book - which is saying a lot considering I'm a blogger - but a Children's Book! About Talking Vegetables! It's Brilliant!

Kiss Kiss - Hug Hug. She's off to bed.

I'm downstairs doing dishes or some such, and planning out my 10 part Children's book - each book having the story line focus on one of the Major Vegetable Characters. I'll need a illustrator...Oh, I'll call my brother-in-law-law! But there's this small voice in the back of my mind that keeps knocking....

"something isn't right. something just isn't right"

Yea. It's called Veggie Tales you idiot.

I would like to think for the most part, I'm a good mom. For all of the jokes that I make here, and all the mistake I've made along the way, at the end of the day I'm pretty proud that I actually grew a person - and that I've managed to keep her in one piece this long. She's well cared for, fed and clean. She knows how to brush her own teeth, put away her toys and wipe her own butt. She's cute as a button, friendly and oddly enough seems to be pretty smart too.

However (you knew one was coming), while I would love to keep writing about all the good that I've done and all the right choices I've made in the last five years - clearly not every choice has been great.

Like that time I sent her to school with a peanut butter sandwich, peanut butter cookies, and celery with peanut butter.....To a non-peanut school. Rookie mistake.

Dinner has always been a questionable time in our house. There were a few things that were discussed when my husband and I got married - and of those things - his laundry and his meals were two things that I made sure he understood would not be automatically be done by me. As long as we are both working full time, these two things would not be dubbed as "pink jobs" and fall on my shoulders. If he wants to wear dirty clothes, that's his business. If he wants to eat steaks and mashed potatoes every night, that's his business as well.

The other 'stuff', I realize falls to me. And not because it has to....but mostly because he doesn't care/or realize it needs to be done. You know...stuff like...dusting and vacuuming and shit. Anyway, I'm getting off topic.....Where was I? Oh, right, dinner time.

So, we had a kid. And for a while they just drink stuff. And then they just eat baby food. And since she had the misfortune of being born into a family that eats dinner at two different times a night, we got into this weird time schedule of eating rotations at the house. She eats around 5:30 or so, my husband would eat after her, and then I eat after everyone goes to bed.

All very strange I know.

So, this last year the 'Mama, this looks funny' and the 'Mama, I don't want anything but pasta' and the 'Mama, NO!!! BROCCOLI WILL KILL ME' has finally reached it's limit, and about a week ago I told my husband that I have had enough. I'm tired of fighting about food, and while although she is partly to blame, we are as well. We've never given her a real idea of what it's like to ALL sit down and eat. What it looks like when we ALL sit down and eat the same thing.

So, Family Dinner was born.

So, that very next night, I run home from work and within a half hour have food splattered all over the walls and have shit in every single pot I own (I'm really hoping I get better at this). She is BESIDE HERSELF with excitement....like this is the coolest thing we've EVER DONE...which of course makes me want to sink into the hardwood floor and die. She wants to be part of it - set the table, fold the napkins, cut the onions (No, I didn't give her a knife...remember I said I'm a GOOD mom). We finally all sit down to our first official dinner and dig in....

She turns and looks at me and says "Mama, It's like we're a FAMILY!"

Kill me. Kill me now.

My best friend has a new man in her life, and the relationship has gotten to the point where introductions are being made. I imagine when one is younger, you introduce the new boyfriends and girlfriends to every single person you know, but as we age - this just seems pointless and quite honestly, exhausting. There really is no point in making the rounds unless you actually LIKE the person. So, anyway, my husband and I got our turn to crawl up the new boyfriends butt and get to know him. Something I've been looking forward to for some time now - and something I'm sure she's been nervous about.

Because as you can imagine, if you've been reading here for a while, I can say some really stupid shit.

And she likes him. And the last thing you want to do is introduce your new boyfriend, that you actually like, to your best friend who can't stop talking about her vagina.

So, we laid out some ground rules before hand. No politics, religion or penis/vagina talk. Easy enough. The only other thing is that, like my friend, he's a vegetarian. So while she has always been an extremely polite vegetarian (meaning she doesn't snub her nose at others and fill conversations with slaughter houses and the ridiculous sizes of chickens assholes) she did throw that info out there in case it mattered to me.

And then she said, "Don't Go Overboard!"

The last thing I wanted was a big stuffy formal sit down dinner, so we decided to just do finger food/appetizer stuff. A spinach dip, some deviled eggs, our famous "veggie pizzas" and a homemade carrot cake. In my head it really wasn't overboard at all...Really...It wasn't. I just always forget how labor intensive some things are...and also how MUCH food he and I can make for just 4 people. So, of course by the time they got there it looked like we were feeding an army.

I'm happy to report that I didn't mention my vagina once all night. But, sadly, I do think I talked about pooping for an uncomfortable amount of time. And not cute baby poop. Adult sized crap. So that's unfortunate.

Personally, I think the evening was a great success, and we like him a great deal - and I didn't stay awake all night having panic attacks over all the stupid shit I said, which means I'm growing as a person.

Except for one small thing.

I think vegetarians are evil.

I have never experienced so much gas in my whole life. Next time I'm serving Bean-O and GasX in small candy dishes.

(I totally stole that picture...But mine looks exactly the same so it should count...Please don't throw me in internet jail....I'm admitting it's not mine)