Got a dog yesterday named Biscuit. It's technically Cavitt's puppy that we picked up from the pound but he and Lucy have tag teamed this poor rescued mutt with so much love, hugs and constant attention that Biscuit probably wishes he wasn't such a lucky dog. The shelter probably sounds like a spa to little Biscuit about now.
Somebody stop Britney Spears from total ruination!!!! Somebody stop me from caring!!! Poor kids. I've been in desperate straits before but I didn't freak the freak out like Miss Spears is intent on doing in front of the whole damn world. Why in the world did she have babies just one year of each other and marry such a weasle-looking loser? Why won't she just get some help?She needs some one on one with Dr. Phil and Oprah - maybe they could straighten her out.
Watching her meltdown is like watching O.J. drive slowly down the highway with about 10 police cars behind him. I just can't look away even though I know I should just to preserve my own dignity.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Anna Nicole and Xanax
Goodness, it's Thursday night and I have so much to share...where do I start?
I flew to Phoenix last Friday and boy, are my arms tired, plus, my nerves are shot!!!! I hate to fly but the trip was so, so fun. Did you know that fat people aren't allowed in the Phoenix/Scottsdale area? They let me in on a special visa. I felt very special and very large!
On the way to Jackson to get to the airport, I was feeling quite anxious, so I remembered I had a friend who had Xanax. I called her and she said, "Sure I'd love to be your drug pusher come right over. "
When I got there, her husband said she was in the shower but it was all right to go on back. Not anxious to see my friend all nekkid, I hesitated but she assured me her nekkidness was all hidden behind the shower curtain. I'm real shy about seeing other people's bits and parts.
My friend, okay her name is Ann - Ann Fann - it really is! Shut up about how funny that is. What's even funnier is her full name, including maiden name, is Ann Little Fann. Doesn't she sound like an Indian Princess? Well, while Ann's all lathering up in the shower, she yells to me, "Just look in the bottle on the vanity. Do you see the pill all marked with bars?"
I think to myself, Yes, I think I do and dump the contents out.
"Break off one bar of the pill. You'll relax," said Ann.
So, I pick one part of the pill out of the jar that has already been broken off - I think. It looks like what I'm supposed to be looking for. I popped it off in my mouthreally fast because I was really anxious.
Then Ann yells through the fog, "Wait until you start to board the plane before you take that or you will be OUT!"
Oops, too late for me!
So I said "Thanks" and left. I got in the car with Super Steve and left for the airport. I waited for the calming effects to take place. About 30 minutes down the road, I started to get a little nervous... Did I even take the right pill? Was I going to pass out and then what? Was I Alice in Wonderland waiting to get bigger or smaller.
I confessed to Super Steve that I went to Ann's house for Xanax and warned him to watch me. I waited and waited but the only crazy side effect of my acid trip was that I thought I heard constant Anna Nicole updates on CNN. Surely that was just the drug because for a prestigious news channel to only be concerned about Anna Nicole Smith's five possible baby daddys and untimely death would mean I was trippin' hard core - right? Other than that -no other side effects. No tiredness. No sluggishness. Just a constant drone of Anna Nicole Smith coverage.
I would rather have passed out but through the placebo effect of Zanex I arrived in Phoenix unharmed and without a hangover! I just had the strangest dream of the Bahamas.
I flew to Phoenix last Friday and boy, are my arms tired, plus, my nerves are shot!!!! I hate to fly but the trip was so, so fun. Did you know that fat people aren't allowed in the Phoenix/Scottsdale area? They let me in on a special visa. I felt very special and very large!
On the way to Jackson to get to the airport, I was feeling quite anxious, so I remembered I had a friend who had Xanax. I called her and she said, "Sure I'd love to be your drug pusher come right over. "
When I got there, her husband said she was in the shower but it was all right to go on back. Not anxious to see my friend all nekkid, I hesitated but she assured me her nekkidness was all hidden behind the shower curtain. I'm real shy about seeing other people's bits and parts.
My friend, okay her name is Ann - Ann Fann - it really is! Shut up about how funny that is. What's even funnier is her full name, including maiden name, is Ann Little Fann. Doesn't she sound like an Indian Princess? Well, while Ann's all lathering up in the shower, she yells to me, "Just look in the bottle on the vanity. Do you see the pill all marked with bars?"
I think to myself, Yes, I think I do and dump the contents out.
"Break off one bar of the pill. You'll relax," said Ann.
So, I pick one part of the pill out of the jar that has already been broken off - I think. It looks like what I'm supposed to be looking for. I popped it off in my mouthreally fast because I was really anxious.
Then Ann yells through the fog, "Wait until you start to board the plane before you take that or you will be OUT!"
Oops, too late for me!
So I said "Thanks" and left. I got in the car with Super Steve and left for the airport. I waited for the calming effects to take place. About 30 minutes down the road, I started to get a little nervous... Did I even take the right pill? Was I going to pass out and then what? Was I Alice in Wonderland waiting to get bigger or smaller.
I confessed to Super Steve that I went to Ann's house for Xanax and warned him to watch me. I waited and waited but the only crazy side effect of my acid trip was that I thought I heard constant Anna Nicole updates on CNN. Surely that was just the drug because for a prestigious news channel to only be concerned about Anna Nicole Smith's five possible baby daddys and untimely death would mean I was trippin' hard core - right? Other than that -no other side effects. No tiredness. No sluggishness. Just a constant drone of Anna Nicole Smith coverage.
I would rather have passed out but through the placebo effect of Zanex I arrived in Phoenix unharmed and without a hangover! I just had the strangest dream of the Bahamas.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Cavitt Said
My son, Cavitt, is days away from turning 5. If you know this child or if you don't, he is the personification of CHEERFUL. He wakes up in the morning declaring, THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!! He once told me I was the starriest star of the most beautifullest mommies. That was the same day I said, "What is it that you want? I'll get it for you," as I melted into a puddle on the floor from sweetness overload.
No, he's not always happy, happy, happy. He whines, stomps his feet, yells LOUDLY, he's kind of a slacker for a 4 year old but even with all that, his usual operating mode is quite simply - HAPPY. He's also very naturally very funny! He's like my little wind up toy that I just sit back and watch. I am endlessly entertained by him which is so ironic since I really disliked him for the first 4 months of his life. I had post-partum depression and that is a post for later. I promise to talk about it but first I want to relay three exchanges I've had with Cavitt recently that have tickled me!
#1
(Scene: Lucy, Cavitt and me drive by Little Red School House Park.)
Lucy: Mollie said there used to be a school there but it burned
Me: Yeah, It was there when I was little.
Cavitt: What kind of school was it?
Me: It was a school for, uh, mentally challenged; retarded children
Cavitt: But it burned??
Me: Yes.
Cavitt: Did you go to school there, mama?
#2
Me: Go with Daddy to Dollar Tree because I need to rest
Cavitt: You don't feel good, do you, mama?
Me: No, I feel kind of sick.
Cavitt: Do you have chicken pops?
Me: No, why do you ask if I have chicken pox?
Cavitt: Because of all those red dots on your face.
#3
Cavitt: Mama, Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What?
Cavitt: Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What's that?
Cavitt: You know, (does his best warbley falsetto voice) Oprah, like grown -ups sing!!!!
No, he's not always happy, happy, happy. He whines, stomps his feet, yells LOUDLY, he's kind of a slacker for a 4 year old but even with all that, his usual operating mode is quite simply - HAPPY. He's also very naturally very funny! He's like my little wind up toy that I just sit back and watch. I am endlessly entertained by him which is so ironic since I really disliked him for the first 4 months of his life. I had post-partum depression and that is a post for later. I promise to talk about it but first I want to relay three exchanges I've had with Cavitt recently that have tickled me!
#1
(Scene: Lucy, Cavitt and me drive by Little Red School House Park.)
Lucy: Mollie said there used to be a school there but it burned
Me: Yeah, It was there when I was little.
Cavitt: What kind of school was it?
Me: It was a school for, uh, mentally challenged; retarded children
Cavitt: But it burned??
Me: Yes.
Cavitt: Did you go to school there, mama?
#2
Me: Go with Daddy to Dollar Tree because I need to rest
Cavitt: You don't feel good, do you, mama?
Me: No, I feel kind of sick.
Cavitt: Do you have chicken pops?
Me: No, why do you ask if I have chicken pox?
Cavitt: Because of all those red dots on your face.
#3
Cavitt: Mama, Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What?
Cavitt: Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What's that?
Cavitt: You know, (does his best warbley falsetto voice) Oprah, like grown -ups sing!!!!
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Whining and wine
There's been a minor ruckus in the mothering world that started with a blogger named Melissa Summers of http://www.suburbanbliss.net/ She wrote about playdates and having a cocktail or two during said date- not for the kids but for the adults. When I read her post, I thought "Now, that's my kind of playdate. We could be friends." But, alas, she lives in Detroit.
I didn't think too much more about it because where I live drinking is a big part of socializing. If there is free time and I consider having children and their parents over as "free time" then I am probably, more than likely going to offer the other mother a glass of wine or other adult beverage if it's 4 p.m. or later.
Plenty of people have had a lot to say about Mrs. Summers post - some pro, and some vehemently con. The cons thought the children were in danger, that they were going to become alcoholics, at best and crack addled prostitutes at worst. Then, about two weeks ago, Summers was invited to be on the Today show where Merideth Viera asked her what the difference between a mother and a paid baby sitter were and the debate raged on whether mothers could be trusted to drink responsibly while caring for their chillun'.
What's funny about all this is if they were in living in Mississippi especially, in my neck of Mississippi, there would be no debate. Somewhere, we, as parents have become so neurotic about our children's little psyches, self-esteem and perfection. My opinion is that my children have joined my world. They are an extremely precious to me and because of them I try conduct myself in a way in which they can be proud. They are always formost in my mind when I make big decisions. But, I also strive to create a harmonious and loving marriage with my husband. I try to live a life pleasing to God and make a good name for myself within my community and in my professional life. I also like to have a social life with my family and without because I am a grown up.
People down here don't do a lot of reading about child rearing. Either you raise your children right or you don't. You don't have to follow the latest baby experts teachings in order to raise a little genius or ensure they get into an ivy league preschool. Plenty of mothers breastfeed because it's said to be superior to the bottle. They love that they are bonding with their babies in a way that is uniquely their own. I applaud those mothers and I know a lot of them.
Then there are terrible mothers, like me, who didn't breast feed. I felt it to be a bit creepy and I hated being the only person between my baby and the abyss of a starvation. I didn't even consider letting my children share a bed with my husband and me. They just had to cry. I never did flash cards drills with my children . Never. Not once. I do, however, read to them.
Guess what - they seem to be alright so far. Lucy is a first grader who is sweet and is one of the best students in her class. Cavitt is bright and happy, with no attachment issues because he wasn't fed from my breasts.
As mothers, we have so much to fret about. Are we raising our children the best way? Are they getting the right nutrition? Are they normal? Is 8 years old too old not to be potty trained? You know, the normal worries. I try to keep things in perspective and not worry what the latest parenting trend may be.
First and foremost, I want my children to feel secure and loved. I want them grow up to be independent thinkers and doers. I want them to have friends and do well in school. I want them to develop of a love for God. I want them to be able to mix me a good stiff drink. If I want to drink in front of my children - so be it. They live with me.
People in the rest of the country may say we in the South are small minded and poorly educated but I'll pit my honor student against their honor student any day. I don't need Brooklyn, Park Slope, intellectual hippie mothers to tell me the best way to discipline my child. I'll do my best - right or wrong. They can go protest disposable diapers or find their baby a milk sibling (see: http://www.babble.com/content/articles/features/personalessays/baumgardner/breastfriends/ ).
I have fond memories of my mother coming to kiss me good night after she and daddy had been to a party. I remember the sound of her charm bracelet tinkling in the darkness as she leaned over the bed. I remember inhaling the faint smell of bourbon and cigarettes mixed with perfume and mink. It was an exotic, festive aroma that clued me in to a world that I wasn't old enough yet to experience.
I don't think I was too screwed in the head from knowing that my parents drank socially. I was a witness to some of their livlier parties and I remember having a great time running around with the other kids while our parents laughed loudly from the other room.
I didn't think too much more about it because where I live drinking is a big part of socializing. If there is free time and I consider having children and their parents over as "free time" then I am probably, more than likely going to offer the other mother a glass of wine or other adult beverage if it's 4 p.m. or later.
Plenty of people have had a lot to say about Mrs. Summers post - some pro, and some vehemently con. The cons thought the children were in danger, that they were going to become alcoholics, at best and crack addled prostitutes at worst. Then, about two weeks ago, Summers was invited to be on the Today show where Merideth Viera asked her what the difference between a mother and a paid baby sitter were and the debate raged on whether mothers could be trusted to drink responsibly while caring for their chillun'.
What's funny about all this is if they were in living in Mississippi especially, in my neck of Mississippi, there would be no debate. Somewhere, we, as parents have become so neurotic about our children's little psyches, self-esteem and perfection. My opinion is that my children have joined my world. They are an extremely precious to me and because of them I try conduct myself in a way in which they can be proud. They are always formost in my mind when I make big decisions. But, I also strive to create a harmonious and loving marriage with my husband. I try to live a life pleasing to God and make a good name for myself within my community and in my professional life. I also like to have a social life with my family and without because I am a grown up.
People down here don't do a lot of reading about child rearing. Either you raise your children right or you don't. You don't have to follow the latest baby experts teachings in order to raise a little genius or ensure they get into an ivy league preschool. Plenty of mothers breastfeed because it's said to be superior to the bottle. They love that they are bonding with their babies in a way that is uniquely their own. I applaud those mothers and I know a lot of them.
Then there are terrible mothers, like me, who didn't breast feed. I felt it to be a bit creepy and I hated being the only person between my baby and the abyss of a starvation. I didn't even consider letting my children share a bed with my husband and me. They just had to cry. I never did flash cards drills with my children . Never. Not once. I do, however, read to them.
Guess what - they seem to be alright so far. Lucy is a first grader who is sweet and is one of the best students in her class. Cavitt is bright and happy, with no attachment issues because he wasn't fed from my breasts.
As mothers, we have so much to fret about. Are we raising our children the best way? Are they getting the right nutrition? Are they normal? Is 8 years old too old not to be potty trained? You know, the normal worries. I try to keep things in perspective and not worry what the latest parenting trend may be.
First and foremost, I want my children to feel secure and loved. I want them grow up to be independent thinkers and doers. I want them to have friends and do well in school. I want them to develop of a love for God. I want them to be able to mix me a good stiff drink. If I want to drink in front of my children - so be it. They live with me.
People in the rest of the country may say we in the South are small minded and poorly educated but I'll pit my honor student against their honor student any day. I don't need Brooklyn, Park Slope, intellectual hippie mothers to tell me the best way to discipline my child. I'll do my best - right or wrong. They can go protest disposable diapers or find their baby a milk sibling (see: http://www.babble.com/content/articles/features/personalessays/baumgardner/breastfriends/ ).
I have fond memories of my mother coming to kiss me good night after she and daddy had been to a party. I remember the sound of her charm bracelet tinkling in the darkness as she leaned over the bed. I remember inhaling the faint smell of bourbon and cigarettes mixed with perfume and mink. It was an exotic, festive aroma that clued me in to a world that I wasn't old enough yet to experience.
I don't think I was too screwed in the head from knowing that my parents drank socially. I was a witness to some of their livlier parties and I remember having a great time running around with the other kids while our parents laughed loudly from the other room.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)