I want her to
believe in fairies.
I want her to
believe in wishes.
But I don't know how much longer we have.
I bought the
wish bracelets because they were a fundraiser for a mother and baby who were fighting battles with cancer (yes, you read that right -- both have cancer ... now you know why I HAD to buy). Made of a thin string with little adornment, they're supposed to bust apart over time, at which point the "wish" you made at the time you put them on will come true.
Hers busted open at school one day. And she came home in tears. "I didn't turn into a fairy, Mommy."
So I might have mentioned a time or two that I have a problem. I am not one of those awesome home-y bloggers whose stuff blows up on Pinterest because OMG, it is sooooo cute, and all it takes is a glue gun and some pipe cleaners and you too could have a whole new entry way bench/storage system.
But when it's time for my kid to turn another year, I tend to forget that.
I am convinced that somehow this is going to be the year when I make the cake that wins me the kick ass mommy prize. The stars will shine on my house alone. The angels will sing. And the not the tiniest bit of vanilla cake will stick to a pan.
Yeah.
Right.
Ten years. That's how long I've been covering graduation ceremonies for the Democrat.
Not a milestone of the same caliber as completing high school, but a milestone all the same.
For a decade, I've sat in the gymnasiums of Sullivan County listening to
school administrators read off accolades. I've heard quotes from Mark
Twain, Dr. Seuss, Eleanor Roosevelt.
If you've heard about Disney/Pixar's new girl power flick,
Brave, you're off to a good start. If you saw it, of course, you'd know what you aren't hearing.
For the first time in a long time -- maybe ever -- the hottest kids' movie in America plays out the volatile mother/daughter relationship onscreen.
Pixar didn't kill off Merida's mother from the get-go. They didn't put an evil stepmonster as family matriarch. They didn't even craft a main character whose self worth hinges on the way her father sees her and his power to make decisions in her life.
So the kid got
The Perry Files DVD for her birthday. See her there making an insanely over the top face? You can tell what she thinks of it.
I, on the other hand, think I may have a crush on
Perry the Platypus. He's quiet. He's
cute. And he can rid the world of evil in less time than it takes for
his owners to realize he's missing.
And if you do not know who Perry is, perhaps you should stop reading this blog post right now. Wait! No! Come back! You are exactly the person who needs to be reading this.
I am not one of those a-hole moms who ignores her kids. Which means I care. Sometimes a little too much.
"Who did you play with at recess?" I ask, paranoid that her tendency to be a
pain in the ass bit on the bossy side may leave her stranded.
"Did you eat lunch with anyone?" I ask, waiting for a "bad" answer so I can swoop in and fix it all with a cuddle.
Here's the truth.
I've heard from more than a few folks recently that they don't need to buy a newspaper because they have Facebook.
They're
half right. Facebook has become our instant access to too much
information. You can know find out what your best friend's mother ate
for breakfast this morning and what TV show she watched last night.
Warning! Whatever you do! Do not look up your kid's sickness on the Internet ... or yours for that matter.
This is what I've learned.
Your
child will wake up with the kind of upset stomach that makes sleep
impossible and fills garbage cans. Do I really need to spell it out for
you? I think not.
And so you hit the Internet.
I laughed. And then I looked around, almost as if I was one of those writers who sits all day in an Internet cafe instead of talking to herself in the privacy of her own home.
The video promised a cure for those terrible tantrums. Just spritz Nap Time on a cloth, hold it over the willful child's mouth, and prest-o, change-o, zonked out kiddo! If you thought "but it sounds like chloroform," the video gets there in the form of a "real doctor, not just playing one in a webisode."
It's a joke. But is it funny ha ha or is it funny OMG, ouch, I'm not so sure ...
 |
| Think it's time to clean the thermometer? |
Well, it really is spring. Or as I like to call it, the time when I
uncurl from my slug-like position on a chair by my computer and actually
get something accomplished around my house.
I'm a firm believer in the warmer, the better.
I'm like one of those solar lights. I don't work without sun. Or chocolate. But that's another column.
See,
while you moaned that you got a little sweaty over the weekend? People
like me basked in the joy of knowing they didn't have to wear three
layers of wool socks to pull weeds.
Disclaimer
I realized I had to add one of these because people let their minds run away with them sometimes. Wait, where was I?
The reviews I put up on this site are NOT paid for by any company. They come from my little ol' head. Some of the products I found myself - on the 'net, at the store, or from other moms. Some were sent my way by publicists. Usually they didn't fit the mold of another project I was working on, but I thought they were so cool I couldn't help sharing!
As for what happens to the products I didn't care for - you'll never know! Because I won't write about them on here. So if you see it, I liked it. 'Nuff said!
