The Omega

Wow. I totally didn't think I could pull this NaBloPoMo thing off, but I did! With Thanksgiving and 14 house guests (well, not really 14, but you get the point) I wasn't even sure I should try.

Did I learn anything? Probably. This post might not have been written without NaBloPoMo to motivate me. Also, it was an excellent exercise in scheduling and discipline. Unfortunately, it drove my husband bonkers. My eternal excuse for not cleaning/cooking/house wife-ing in general was always, 'But I have to get a post up for today!' Either that or I was complaining that he was hogging the computer. Was it fun? Yes! This post would have never seen the light of day, and I had a blast revealing some of my innermost neuroses and hearing what you all had to say about them!

Will I do it again? Probably not. Like the time my brother made the honor roll just to prove he could, I think this was a one time thing for me. But I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to others.

So here it is.

The end.

Instinct

Last week, Sam woke in the middle of the night with a shriek, followed by a cry. Since this is an unusual event for him, I immediately jumped out of bed and went to him. As I lifted him from his crib with one hand, the other hand started pulling up my shirt to nurse him. I actually had to stop and remind myself that the two of us don't do that anymore. Somehow it just seemed right in that moment.

If you told me three years ago that I would exclusively breastfeed two children for six months apiece, and then continue to nurse the firstborn well into my second pregnancy, I doubt I would have believed you. If you mentioned that I considered tandem nursing (for about 3.2 seconds) I would have laughed in your face. But something happened to me during that first instant Sam latched on. It was like one of my body's true functions was realized.

Breastfeeding is natural. It is not sexual. However, the folks over at YouTube seem to be confused about this issue. They've banned the League of Maternal Justice Breastfeeding Montage Video due to inappropriate content. Julie and Kristen are working hard to get this issue resolved, so help to support then by getting the word out. How? Here's what they suggest:

1. Email congressional reps (link to http://www.visi.com/juan/congress/ - enter your zip, and it returns all three addresses/home pages for your location) and Parliament members (link to http://www.canada.gc.ca/directories/direct_e.html - enter your postal code, and it returns addresses/home pages of Parliament members) and ask them to tell YouTube/Google that removal of the video is socially and legally unacceptable.

2. Create a short video (not breastfeeding) that is tagged and titled "Message to YouTube" (feel free to include any other tags, including League of Maternal Justice, Breastfeeding, Health, etc). and tell them what you think about this. Tell them that breastfeeding is NOT obscene

*Updated: We're going to reload our video (with new music) in the next few days. If you want, hold your Messages to YouTube and you can make them as replies to our Montage! (Thanks Jenn)

YouTube is calling for these videos and we're more than happy to oblige. Make sure to send us your YouTube video link!

3. Write a post and include these same directions on your own blogs and send us the permalinks (or leave them in the comments).

4. Return to the LMJ call to action post (where permalinks will be linked up) and post/vote for others' posts on bookmarking sites.

5. Submit our press release to online media outlets and social bookmarking sites (Reddit, Stumbleupon, etc.), get your message boards involved, send to your local reporters, or any national news contacts.

Even if you can only do one or two (like me) go for it! There is strength in numbers!

I'm That Mom

You know your kid is a difficult eater when you're elated that he ate a McDonald's cheeseburger (ketchup only) without acting like I was trying to kill him. I mean, I was. But in a long, slow, artery hardening kind of way. He's to young to get that. Hence the cooperation. When he was finished, he kept trying to eat the gingerbread man toy that came in the Happy Meal. Poor kid. At least he's cute, right?

Happiness Runs...

Tired of bad kids music getting stuck in your head? Check out my review of the awesome That Baby CD and That Baby DVD over at The Cheese Says....Mmmm! These have plenty of songs you won't mind singing over and over and over!

Thalassophobia

I've never truly suffered from a phobia that I can recall, but when we started planning our beach vacation for next September something inside of me went berserk.

I always knew I didn't like the ocean much. I enjoy sitting in the sand, but I can count on one hand the number of times, in my entire life, I've gone in the water. I don't relish encountering marine life unexpectedly, for one thing. Also, the beaches we visited when I was a child were on the gulf of Mexico, where there were hardly any waves at all. When I started going to Sandbridge with SOB, I was timid about challenging the powerful surf. After ending up with a bloody nose and fat lip the first time I got up enough courage to go in further than my ankles, I decided I was much more content on dry land. I forced myself to go snorkeling once in the Bahamas, but I never let go of a rope that was tied to our boat. I'm a fairly strong swimmer, and I love pools. I just don't like the ocean.

However, it turns out that I have a deep, burning fear of the ocean that didn't make itself known until I had children. Anyone who has ever had 'that' conversation with me knows that I think drowning would be the most terrible way to die. Well, when I came upon SOB browsing beach houses on Sunday afternoon, the first image that popped into my head was Sammy's little body being tossed about by the waves, and me never being able to find him. All day I was plagued with these thoughts until finally, after a movie and a football game, I lost it. We had just crawled up to bed, and I was in the bathroom washing my face. It was late, but all of a sudden I was sobbing and yelling that we couldn't ever go to the beach again.

SOB must have thought I was insane. We talked for a little while, but agreed to get some sleep and talk the next day. Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep. Disaster scenarios and worse kept running through my mind. On Monday morning, I was exhausted.

The trouble is, I can contain my own fears because I have total control over my body, and whether or not my body goes into the ocean. But I can't control my children. What if Sam adores the ocean? What if swimming in the sea brings him more pleasure than anything else? Denying him that pleasure would make me a horrible parent, but I would in a second if I knew I could get away with it.

So we're skipping the beach this year. In addition to my crippling fears, the last time we went it wasn't very relaxing for me. Sam didn't sleep well, so I didn't either. With a 2.5 year old and a 1 year old, I can't imagine it will be any better. This gives me a year and a half to work on my phobia. Maybe some therapy will be necessary.

And swim lessons. The kids are definitely getting swim lessons.

Ovarian Stimulation

I've been fumbling around with blogger's new video feature. Check out my cutie-pies!

Serenity

I need some...my children decided I didn't need to sleep last night. Visit Picture This for all the best shots.

P.S. Still only one line...

Hee Hee Hee!

Today I went to the Apple store to fondle my most desired Christmas present. I decided to pull up the internet and play around. Surfing over to the Cheese Party, I realized that if I just set the phone down now, that the next person who picked it up would see my blog.

I played with all eight iPhones they had on display.

Does This Make Me Weird?

I love orange tic tacs. L-O-V-E love them. I have ever since I was a teeny tiny tot. I now occasionally also enjoy the citrus twist flavored tic tacs, but orange is my old stand-by. When I buy a box of them, I care to enjoy them in a very specific fashion. First I shake 8 or 10 into my mouth directly from the little flip top. Then I divide them roughly in half with my tongue. Once divided, I transport the groups to opposite sides of my mouth, where I stash them between my cheek and gums. I suck on the like this for approximately 30 seconds, and then I mix them all up in the middle of my mouth and repeat the dividing process. After another 30 seconds or so of sucking, I move all of the tic tacs to one side of my mouth between the cheek and gum, and then one by one I crunch them between by last molars on the opposite side of my mouth. I repeat this entire process until the entire box is empty.

Today at Target I bought some tic tacs. (Oooh! So many good T words!) Usually I just ask the cashier to hand over the goods, but Lucy started fussing and I forgot. She put them in a bag with a bunch of bathroom items, like soap and lotion and stuff, and I totally forgot about them. I took the bag upstairs, and later when I was in the shower I reached in to get some soap, but found my tic tacs.

I ate the entire box while in the shower.

I am weird. I know it.

Not That He Actually Ate Any, But...

He sure looked cute throwing around that big drumstick! His entire Thanksgiving dinner consisted of mashed potatoes and gravy (which he fed to himself!!!), half a PB&J and some applesauce. Oh, and pie. Lots and lots of pie.

Lucy: Month Three

Dear Lady Bug -

Three months marks the official end of your newborn days, and your entry into infancy. Even though you are still so small, you seem so big. You're probably closing in on 14 pounds, if you haven't surpassed it already. Your belly is round and perfect for tickling, and you've started to develop the patented 'mama's milk thunder thighs' we all love so much.

The best part about this month was how much more interactive you became. You actually kind of play with things now. It used to be that if you were awake, you wanted to be held, but now you'll play contentedly in the gymni for half an hour, your little arms and legs waving wildly. When you smack into anything that makes noise, you look so pleased with yourself!


You love to play the funny face game now. I just sit you on my lap facing me and drink in your silent laughter as I twist my grin a thousand different ways. And you finally started smiling at your daddy. He was really starting to get a complex. You always smile at your big brother. He can do no wrong in your book, although mama doesn't always agree.

Those eyes of yours are so bright, and it looks like they might take on the same shade of blue Sam's are. How a green eyed mother and a brown eyed father managed to have two blue eyed children is beyond me.

I think I mentioned that you sleep through the night, which makes me love you so much more than I loved your brother at this age. It's evil to say that, but my life is soooooo much easier when I get 7 consecutive hours of sleep most nights. Thanks for that, Goosie.


You really are a doll. Every day I thank my lucky stars for such a sweet little girl. And I know it's only going get better. At least, until you're 12 or 13.

Love, Mama

Why I'm Thankful

Because my son does his best to make sure everyone has something to eat this Thanksgiving. Which is why there are cheddar bunnies crumbs all over his baby doll's mouth.


How could you not love this kid?

(Click to view crumbs in detail)

Let the Insanity Begin

Last night, a good friend of ours from way back in high school came to visit on his way to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. He's leaving today. Then this afternoon my good friend Katie is coming for a few days. Tonight we're hanging out with Chrissie at the GAP. Tomorrow night Laura and Eric and Marissa are coming for dinner, and my parents should arrive sometime around 10pm.

And I'm supposed to make two pies between now and Thursday.

MBSM: Missing Files Edition

Right before Lucy was born I installed updates of iPhoto on the same day I downloaded some shots from my camera. I never saw those photos again until last night. SOB reminded me of them and I spent over an hour searching for them. So even though it's over three months old, I chose this as my BSM. Click over to Picture This (if it still exists) for all the best shots of the week.

Babies Babaies Babies!

Today Lucy and I went to my friend Carrie's baby shower. I'm so excited that she's knocked up. First of all, she's going to be a stellar mom. And in a more selfish vein, one of my friends is going to have a baby! I mean, someone who I was friends with before children factored into the equation. Don't get me wrong, I love Lora and Susan, but I didn't meet them until I was pregnant with Sam. I've known Carrie since we were 18. We've got history.

We met on the first day of freshman year way back in 1997, where we were suite mates at SJU. By the third day of school, we were staying up until 3am swapping life stories. She was there the night I got engaged to SOB. She lived with us. She was a bridesmaid at our wedding. She was the first person to meet Sammy, as in, ever, besides us. We hosted their engagement party when her boyfriend and fellow SJU alumni Marcello proposed. I sang at their wedding. I can only hope that I'll be there soon after her little bambino is born.

And she looks fab in a bow hat!

Touch of Gray

I cut SOB's hair yesterday, and I found a gray hair. His first.

Oh, and his Aunt Joan went 100% gray over the course of a single month when she was 29.

He's 29 and 3/4.

Dun dun DAAAAA!

Terror Watch

This morning, around 5:15am, I sat in the cold downstairs bathroom. My feet freezing on the stone floor, I spent the longest three minutes of my life listening to the wind howl. Waiting. Watching. Hoping that one pink line wouldn't turn into two. Silently cursing myself, SOB and the OBGYN who canceled my appointment, leaving me without birth control until December 26th.

All week I've been feeling funny. Nauseous, one day, crampy the next. My breasts have been so tender I could barely stand nursing Lucy. I was doing a little research about the Lactational Amenorrhea Method and read that once a baby is sleeping through the night, ovulation suppression stops, and women usually become fertile again.

Lucy has been sleeping through the night for almost a month.

Sam didn't sleep through the night until he was 9 months old. I got pregnant with Lucy when he was 10 months old.

Today, there was only one line. We'll see what shows up next friday.

Double Fisting

Sam is positively giddy about fresh cut french fries in one hand, apple cider donuts in the other.

See what everyone else is giddy over at Picture This.

Soup's On

Ever since the weather turned, SOB has been manically making soup. Actually, he's been making stock which will later be turned into soup. At least twice a week he walks through the door with seeping packages. One day it was chicken backs, another day it was the femur of a cow sawed into two inch sections. He now has an official 'guy' for bones. I think he might be Amish.

With the chicken backs he made tortilla soup and cream of mushroom. Tonight we're having French onion made with the beef stock. Next week we'll probably have beef barely. And I can't even imagine how happy he'll be after Thanksgiving with an entire turkey carcass.

Every soup he makes is delicious. Beyond delicious, even. He always says that if he ever opens a restaurant, it would be all he would serve. The only problem is that he always makes enough for a family of 17. Which means I've been eating soup at almost every meal for the last two weeks. The other night I was in the tub and I wasn't truly able to relax because I felt like I was in a giant bowl of soup. With the latest batch of beef stock, I asked him to freeze half of it. He agreed, but we still have at least two or three days worth of soup to go.

I shouldn't complain, really. We've had an abundance of soup weather around these parts. Also most of his soups are healthy, especially when compared to the other things he makes. I just feel like I need to chew something.

Maybe I'll fish out some of Sam's old teething toys.

Today I went to the gym. Everything started out normally, but I ended up leaving the place in tears.

Because the Y we belong to is in an ancient building, the two main workout areas are in separate locations. There is a room upstairs with some of the cardio equipment, and the weight lifting machines and rest of the cardio machines are down in the basement. They explained when I joined that people liked having some of the treadmills and stuff upstairs where there are windows, unlike the basement room where they actually have plastic films with clouds and sky covering the fluorescent lights.

I went downstairs first since it was leg lifting day. I noticed a man working out nearby. He was old, and very frail looking. He also had every inch of his body covered except for his face, and he took great care to immediately cover any part that may have accidentally become exposed. For example, he had on gloves, and if he moved his arms in such a way that some skin at his wrists was revealed, he would quickly pull his gloves up and his shirt sleeves down. He also cleaned every piece of equipment before using it, whereas most people wipe them down after they're finished. I just shrugged him off as a germophobe and went about my business.

After I finished lifting, I headed upstairs to jump on an elliptical machine. The room upstairs is usually much more quiet, and I often bring something to read. There was another woman in there, someone that I've seen several times before. We usually exchange pleasantries and then continue with our workouts. The Y has recently decided to move all of the cardio machines down into the basement, and since we both seem to prefer the current arrangement, we started chatting about our displeasure with the new plans. During our talk I discovered that another reason we both like working out in that room is because of its proximity to the child care area. Her daughter is older, but she still likes to be nearby.

All of a sudden the frail, germophobe man walks in and starts talking to her. I assumed he was her father because of his physical appearance, however when he left the room, she told me that he was her husband. He is suffering from stage 4 colon cancer. And they have a 4 year old daughter. She started to get a little choked up. She said that coming to work out has been some kind of a sanctuary for her through her husband's illness. She told me that she finds more solace in looking at the trees than she does at church, and when they move everything to the basement next week, she doesn't know what she's going to do. I told her I'd pray for her family, and even though I'm generally not a praying person, I meant it.

Most days I try and remember how lucky I am. Today there is no way I could forget.

Worth at Least $5 Apiece

Mothers and sons have an interesting relationship dynamic. In most cases, your mom is the first woman you'll ever love. She'll be the person you run to when you skin your knees or when you get your heart broken. Having a little lad of my own, I can already see how difficult it is going to be when another person takes over the top spot in his world.

(Pausing for a moment to get some tissues...wah!)

Over the years my mother-in-law and I have struck a nice balance with SOB and his affections, though it wasn't always smooth sailing. I can't imagine it ever is. I can predict with almost certainty that I will be the harshest critic of anyone who comes home on Sammy's arm. I'll probably keep my opinions to myself and have a hefty amount of self-loathing because of it, but there is nothing I can do to stop it.

My mother-in-law is an emphatic and gregarious woman who loves her children to a fault. I got the feeling that she liked me, but I wasn't too confident in my ability to read her emotions. However, she gave me a gift once that cemented, in my mind, her feelings for me.


Here's another angle.


In case you couldn't tell, those are my husband's teeth, gold plated. She made me this pin from charms that represented my interests, such as the music note and the cat. Then right in the front she applied his wisdom teeth, extracted shortly after we got together.

Maybe I was mistaken, but I took this gift as a symbolic passing of the torch. When SOB was a young boy, his baby teeth became her keepsakes under the guise of the tooth fairy. Now he was grown, a man in most ways, still a boy in others, but no longer hers. When she drove him home from the dentist that day, all groggy and drowsy from the medications, those teeth filled her pockets in a way his baby teeth never could. And she knew she had to give them to me.

For over a year I wore this pin on the lapel of my coat. I don't wear it very often now, but it is still one of my most cherished possessions. When I do take it out and pin it to my jacket, I smile. Not just because of the funny looks people on the street give me, but because of the way it helped to define a relationship that is very dear to me.

Master of the Blow-Out!

Check out my review of Beauty Confidential over at The Cheese Says....Mmmm! Trust me, you'll be glad you did!

Indecisive

One of my worst personality traits is that I have trouble making decisions. Chinese or pizza? Wine or cocktails? Sleep or blog? I just couldn't choose a best shot for this week. I took a ton of pictures yesterday, and I loved a ton of them, too! So it's up to you, dear readers, to choose. Here are 6. Which one do you like best and why?







As always, visit Picture This for even more great photos!

Burning Down the House

Last night our fireplace flue malfunctioned, perhaps half an hour after we lit a roaring fire. I was sitting on the couch as SOB adjusted some logs, and all of a sudden I noticed smoke pouring into the room. At first I thought it was just me, but then I started feeling it in my throat. SOB looked at me and realized that he was peering through a haze. Since the fire wasn't going out any time soon if left to its own devices, he ran into the kitchen to get some water. It took several gallons, but he extinguished all of the flames. Meanwhile I started opening the windows. I got some fans from the basement to direct the smoke out of doors.

Now our house smells like someone had a wienie roast in my living room. Good times.

No Movie for Old Men (Or Women)

We actually got our asses out of the house this weekend and went to the movies. TWICE! Can you believe it? Last night we went to see No Country for Old Men, which was phenomenal. Then today we went to see Darjeeling Limited. Both excellent flicks from excellent film makers.

Seated directly behind us during Darjeeling Limited, was a couple with the combined age of 167. Approximately. Now I'm all for octogenarians getting out and about. And they were so sincerely still in love. They held hands throughout the entire film. But they also talked throughout the entire film, too. The commentary started during the opening scene, when the missus wondered aloud if they were in the right theater. Then in the middle, she chastised her husband for falling asleep because he couldn't listen to her if he was snoozing. It finally ceased during the credits, after she proclaimed of Owen Wilson, 'He was that young man from the Wedding Smashers movie.'

I hope that when SOB and I are in our eighties, we still go out to the movies. I just hope that we realize that even though we may not be able to hear each other, everyone else can.

Preventing Teenage Pregnancy: My Condom Story

During my high school years, my mother decided to go back to school and finish her degree. For the most part, I was a spoiled brat teen-ager about the fact that she choose to focus a small percentage of her attention on something other than me. However, by the time I was in 10th grade, I had a partial change of heart.

You see, my parents have always been pretty liberal, and while they encouraged me and my brother to wait until we were married (or at least in love) before having sex, they knew that there still a decent chance we wouldn't be. At my mother's college, student organizations would hand out condoms during AIDS awareness week, and she would collect them up and give them to us. She would hand me a brown paper bag containing more than two dozen different types. It was awkward for me, and her, too, I'm sure, but I'm glad she did it. Because while I never used them, my friends did, and they knew they could come to me for protection.

It wasn't long before I became knows as 'the condom girl' at school. I lived in a small town, and kids would have to drive at least a half an hour to find a drug store or gas station where no one there knew them. No 16 year old wants to be buying rubbers from the lady who lives down the street from their grandmother's best friend. But when word got out that I had a seemingly limitless supply, well, I became pretty popular.

At first I was kind and gave away my supply without charge, but when people who didn't even know my name started coming 'round, I wised up. I never bilked anyone, but instead asked for a dollar or two, or if they didn't have cash they could give me some cafeteria tickets, good for cookies and the like. When my supply started to get low, I would take them from my brother's room. He usually just tossed his bag under the bed and forgot about them altogether.

My parents probably though I was a huge slut, given the rate I was going through those thing. At the time, I thought I was cool and so mature. Here I was dealing in sex, a subject usually reserved for adults. Meanwhile, every once and a while someone would ask a question about usage or application and I couldn't answer. Because I had no idea. I had never used one. I had never even taken one out of the package and inspected it. I was terrified of them!

Today, it's hard not to look back and wonder how many pregnancies and/or STDs I helped prevent during my high school tenure. Let's just call it my service to mankind for 1994-97.

Remnants

This is all that's left of the tree.

It's sad to see a once majestic tree reduced to a pile of firewood. Granted, it's an impressive pile, but still. I was very conflicted about having the tree cut down in the first place. Unfortunately, we don't live in a time or place where letting nature take its own course is possible. Or practical. The potential damages to life and limb (heh) were too great to allow this massive neighborhood old timer a dignified death. In the spring, we plan to plant a new tree in its place. And with the big tree gone, a smaller maple and a scrawny little apple tree are going have a new chance at light and life.

Every time we light a fire, we'll be burning a memory.

Are You Daring?

Do you have a vagina? Then this book might be for you! Click over to The Cheese Says....Mmmm! to read the entire review of The Daring Book for Girls!

I Don't Love Him That Much

SOB was on call Sunday night, and subsequently spent the whole night wide awake. He came home yesterday morning and went straight to sleep. After six hours or so, I went to wake him with a big ole' piping hot cup of coffee. I had also poured a small cup for myself, and fixed it all up just the way I like it. When I came into the room, SOB asked for some water, so I set the cups down on the nightstand. As I came out of the bathroom with his requested beverage, I saw that he was just starting to drink from my coffee cup. I quickly informed him that he was drinking my coffee, but he already had half of the mug's content in his mouth. He looked at me, made a weird face, and then spat the coffee back into the mug.

He didn't understand why I poured it down the sink. Men.

Caught in the Act: A Dad's Vulnerability

On Saturday morning, all four of us (initially, I accidentally wrote 'three' back there. Sorry, Lucy!) headed out to do some shopping. I had to return a shirt, buy my dad a birthday gift and we had some miscellaneous miscellany to buy for the house. You know, garage door openers and push brooms and such.

We decided to head to the mall first. As we approached the store where I was making my return, SOB spotted a toy store. He decided to take Sam over there while I took care of my returning business with Lucy. Well, since it was early and the mall was nearly deserted, I was finished in no time. I wandered over to the toy store and saw SOB at the register, handing over what appeared to be multiple twenty dollar bills. As soon as he saw me, his whole face went red. He grabbed his change and stuffed it in his pocket abashedly. Sam, meanwhile, was tearing the place apart. At that moment he was rifling through a huge display of ring pops, in hopes of finding an open one.

SOB gathered up the boy and the toy and met me outside. He silently took his package and crammed it into the bottom of the stroller. We walked a few paces before he finally looked at me and confessed. He said that he couldn't help himself. That if I had seen the look on Sam's face when saw the toy in action in the store, I would have done the same thing. We decided that it would be a Christmas present.

And as if it wasn't sweet enough to see my big, strong, manly husband felled by a child's reaction to a mechanized Sesame Street character, he agreed to never again chastise me for buying toys every time we go to Target. Score!

Babes and Berries...

Sunday morning in mom and dad's bed...


Sunday afternoon, out for a walk.


It was a good weekend. How was yours?

View all the best shot Monday photos at Picture This.

This Used To Be One of the Best Days of the Year

Remember was back when an extra hour of sleep really meant an extra hour of drinking? When you didn't feel bad rolling out of bed at 11am, because it was really only 10? When that blissful 60 minute bonus was best part of the week, if not month?

Why do kids not understand how awesome that is?

Mrs. Chicken Really Gets Me

Like Mrs. Chicken, I've been doing Weight Watchers. So far, I've dropped six pounds in three weeks! Although I've sacrificed many, many things for the sake of my waistline, I will never, ever give up half and half in my coffee! And you know I'm serious by the size of the container.

Oh, and there's this! How could I not love this woman?

Learning By Doing

(By the way, once you're finished here, you really should check out my new post over at The Cheese Says....Mmmmm!)

When I was 12 years old, my parents decided to allow me to wear makeup. Their own special way of telling me this was to buy me a makeup mirror for my bedroom as a Christmas gift. Additionally, in their infinite wisdom, they told my 9 year old brother to buy me some makeup. While I'm sure their intentions were good, the results were not. Being 9, and not having much money to spend, my brother headed to the dollar store. Where he purchased the most horrific cosmetics known to man.

After we opened all of our gifts, it was time for church. Mass was at 11, so I had plenty of time to get ready! I ran upstairs and opened my new mirror. It was the type that had several different light settings (day, home, office or evening) so that you could apply your cosmetics to suit your environment. Well, the church was fairly dark inside, so I set it to evening and got started.

45 minutes later, I walked downstairs. Thinking I looked more beautiful than Mayim Bialik, I stood silently and waited for the compliments to come raining down. Instead I was greeted with shocked silence. Not only had I applied enough pink eyeshadow (and matching lipstick) for an entire army, but I had caked my face with pressed powder the color of my grandmother's pumpkin pie filling. I probably looked like a day-glo freak. At first, I just assumed that my family was simply awestruck by my breathtaking radiance, which was so consuming that they couldn't even speak.

Finally, my mother came over, took me by the hand, and led me back upstairs. Where she helped wash my face. 4 times. Then I got a little lesson on natural looking makeup.

We went to the 12:30 mass instead.

--

This post was brought to you by Beauty Confidential and the Parent Bloggers Network! Want to win a whole mess of spectacularly awesome beauty products guaranteed to prevent day-glo freak face? Click here for details!

An Open Letter To Television

It's back! In honor of election season, and the monthly blog exchange, I am debating TV and children's viewing habits with the lovely and talented Alex Elliot. Please head on over to Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting to read her side of the story, and weigh on in!


Dear Television,

We need to talk. I've been feeling really conflicted lately. We have such a love/hate thing going on right now. On one hand, I love you. I always have, but ever since TiVo has revolutionized our relationship I feel an even stronger bond with you. The Daily Show, Survivor, Inside the NFL, the whole gamut of programs just waiting for me to watch. Every night, I as soon as the kids to go to sleep we get down to our dirty, sinful business.

Therein lies the rub.

While I love you so much I want to make out with you, I don't want my kiddos to share my affections. Occasionally I'll allow some educational DVDs or an episode of Sesame Street, but by and large you remain turned off while the kids are awake.

It's not you TV, it's me. Strike that, it's you. You sold out, TV. Why is AstraZeneca trying to convince my 2-year old that their asthma medication is best? And why are there so many commercial for McDonald's? Call me a crazy conspiracy theorist, but I bet McD's and big pharma are in bed together. All this trans-fat laden childhood obesity leads to major medical problems down the road. Follow the money!

Besides all drugs and unhealthy food you're trying to sell my kids, what about all those licensed characters? I've seen an obsessed kid or two in my time, and let me tell you, it's not pretty. Thomas, Dora, Elmo. And it's not just the kids, either! Have you ever seen the parents come holiday season? I can't think of many things that would drive well mannered, rational people to fisticuffs, save for the last Tickle-me Whoever. Oh, and he is probably covered in lead-based paint FYI.

So let's make a deal, TV. I'll continue to watch in the evenings and during nap time, and you leave my kids alone, ok? I'll even promise to occasionally buy some of those products you keep trying to sell me. But only because I was going to buy them anyway. And when they're older and more capable of thinking for themselves, maybe the kids can watch a little more often.

Until then, we'll be at the library.

Love, Amy Jo

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Mama, That's Me

Me and my Sammy

You know I can never resist these things!

This week's theme was fun AND easy! Click over to Picture This for all the other mother shots!