Inane Children's Shows

Why do children's programmers assume their shows need to be sugary and inane to keep a kid's imagination? It's for this reason that the entire Barney dynasty is banned from my house. Purple dinosaurs rank up there with Chris Farley on my annoyance spectrum.

By far the worst offenders are Christian children's shows. Having worked for a Christian publisher, I saw more poorly-produced shows than I'd like to admit. Cheesy accents, enormous mis-matched mustaches, over-pronounced words, and perky songs about nothing. Throw in a puppet and you've got yourself a best-seller.

The only Christian children's show I can bear to sit through is Veggie Tales. Smartly written, there are often jokes aimed just at the parents. It's obviously still geared towards kids, but it's not nearly as obnoxious as other offerings. Kids can learn from shows without hyper-color cheesiness. Don't insult their intelligence.

Mis-Pronouncifications

I'm an admitted grammar geek. I spend all day correcting the grammar and pronunciation of my two kids. Bean has a fairly extensive vocabulary... she recently told me she had a hypothesis about something (and used it correctly!). But some of her pronunciations are just too cute to fix.

A Guide to Bean's Language:

Old McDonald's = McDonalds. As in, "Old McDonald HAD a farm. But he got sick of all the animals, and now he has a restaurant."

Pasketti = Spaghetti. A fairly common one.

Hosdibull = Hospital. My mom was in the hospital recently, so this word has had a bit more use lately.

I know there are more I can't think of right now. It makes me sad to think she'll outgrow this one day!

Mr. Cellophane....

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel invisible?

As a mom, I feel like I exist solely to feed my hungry children, change Squish's diapers, and keep them from killing each other. As a wife, I'm supposed to have a hot dinner ready each night, and keep the house relatively clean. As a business owner, I am supposed to keep my clients happy, no matter what's going on in my life.

But sometimes I feel like no one really SEES me.

Sometimes I feel like I put all the effort into my relationships. That if I stopped communicating, they wouldn't really notice. I send text messages that never get responses. Repeatedly ask questions that would take 30 seconds to answer... but never get an answer. Try to make appointments with no luck.

Sometimes I expect to look in the mirror and see no one there.

Just Because It's Not a Law, Doesn't Make it OK.

They recently made it a law that you can't send text messages while driving. I think it's a good law, since common sense no longer prevails in our society. Not to mention the nearly illegible texts I was getting from a certain friend of mine. But it did make me wonder what other activities they'll outlaw while driving...

- No lighting cigarettes

- No changing the radio station

- No telling stories about your crazy mother-in-law

- No reaching around behind you to grab the leg of the kid who's been kicking.kicking.kicking your chair for the last 17.5 miles

I'll admit to being guilty of doing things while driving that aren't entirely necessary. Usually I'll wait till a stoplight... especially if it's something I should concentrate on, like applying mascara. But I've seen people do some pretty gross things while driving. Dear people... do you not realize that the same technology that allows you to see OUT your windows, lets us see IN them?

We've all seen other drivers pick their noses. I've also seen people floss their teeth, brush their teeth, curl their hair with a curling iron, shave their beards, and apply various forms of makeup. But by far the oddest thing I've seen was a woman who was Ped-Egging her feet while driving! Distraction aside, can you imagine the mess that made in her car?

What's next, bikini waxes?

Don't Bite Your Friends

Recently, while at a friend's house, the kids were watching Yo Gabba Gabba. Can we talk about this show? Clearly the creators were on some very special, very illegal medications while coming up with this stuff. I never did LSD, but it's what I'd imagine an LSD trip would be like.

First we have the guy in the furry orange outfit. Is he a bandleader? A conductor? The exotic uncle you hope doesn't come to the family reunion?

And then there's the giant dancing sex toy. You can't tell me the adults on the show didn't look at that thing and say "Hm... phallic shape, little bumps.... yeah let's put it on and see if the parents giggle."

But the thing that really amused me was the song they were singing; the chorus of which was "Don't bite your friends." I mean, don't get me wrong... I don't want my kids biting anyone. But doesn't this seem like an odd thing to write a song about? What's next, "Don't play with your poop"? Although as the mom of a 2-year-old who's currently obsessed with all things potty, this might be a good idea.

I think they need to make more Captain Obvious songs for adults. "Don't flick off another driver when you did the bad thing" would be a good one. "Muffin Tops and Camel Toes are not attractive" would be another interesting song. Or "Don't complain about your weight while eating a gallon of ice cream." Hmm. This could be fun.

Where's My Helmet?

Having a two-year-old is kind of like having an angry NFL linebacker on steroids in a 30-lb body. Except you don't get the benefit of a helmet and pads.

Squish will get so filled with rage, she does this little dance... which I've aptly named the Rage Dance. She stands in place and waves her arms and stomps her feet and makes a sound like a volcano about to erupt. Why so much anger? Because I wouldn't let her have another bag of fruit snacks. Or Bean looked at her. Or the dog was within 2 miles of her while she was eating. At the height of her frustration, she refuses to talk, which just exacerbates the situation. So I'm trying to teach her to take a deep breath and "use her words." Right now she categorizes every problem as "WANT!!!" or "DON'T WANT!!!" Which is just so helpful.

Everything pisses her off right now. The wind blows her hair, and she's mad. The TV's too loud/too quiet/not a show she likes... and she's mad. Her juice has too much water in it (I'm a 50/50 water-downer), and she turns green and rips her shirt off.

I'm convinced children get PMS. I don't care what they say about hormones not kicking in for several years yet. MINE GETS PMS. And oddly enough, the cure is the same. A little chocolate, a bubble bath, and as little contact with other humans as possible.

After spending all day with my little tyrant, I have to remember to use my manners. When my adult friend is slow walking to the car, I should probably refrain from shrieking "CAR! NOW!" And when I go get a much-deserved coffee, I may not want to stomp my feet and holler "WANT LATTE! WANT LATTE!" and then dissolve into tears on the floor of Starbucks.

Although, who knows... maybe they'd throw in a free biscotti.

They're Not Crazy... They're Moms

You know those people you see walking along the sidewalk, muttering to themselves? They're not crazy. They're moms. Only moms deal with apparently deaf people who are hell-bent on doing what they want, no matter what the consequences. It's enough to make you shuffle along a sidewalk and argue with yourself.

Right now I'm dealing with a tyrant of a 2 year old. I spend every day locked in a battle of the wills. I think I'm winning. But I will let you know for sure when I see what nursing home they finally put me in. Today it was over whether or not she was going to eat breakfast. I tried begging, teasing, bargaining, making it fun, guilt trips (hey, I was raised Catholic... I can guilt trip with the best of them)... and finally decided that with the amount of chub my little Squish has been blessed with, she will not starve any time soon.

Bean seems to be suffering from hearing loss. I literally screamed "SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS!" for about 2 minutes straight this morning in a pathetic attempt to get her to school on time. Just once I would like her to look like she's not a third world poster child. For 35 cents a day, you can give this poor child socks!

I'm fairly certain NONE of my other jobs were this hard. I don't remember having to work this hard to get a report out of a manager. "Come on, Mr. Brown.... who's my favorite manager? Give me the report and I'll let you take a long lunch!" Or yelling at my staff when I needed their articles for a deadline... "ARTICLE! ARTICLE! ARTICLE!"

I need a paid leave of absence.

What is strength?

Recently, we had one of those weekends that really tests you as a person.

My mom almost died. She had a medical condition she wasn't aware of, and was rushed into emergency surgery. I got the news while in the middle of shooting a portrait session. There's nothing like talking to your mom before surgery, and knowing it may be the last time you talk, and then putting on your game face for a client. I've now taken care of clients while having an ovarian cyst rupture, while having a miscarriage, and while worrying about my mom in emergency surgery.

We also found out that due to a banking error, we bounced several checks and had to pay all of the attached fines. We were thankfully able to borrow money to cover it until our other funds were accessible on the next business day. But we then had a list of calls to make to straighten out the bounced checks.

My oldest daughter, Bean, developed an infection in one of her lymph nodes. She had a golf ball-sized lump on the side of her neck. After being assured she was NOT contagious, she spent the night with some friends. Only to find out the next day she had strep throat and had most likely infected all of her friends. I spent the next several days trying to limit Bean and Squish's interactions with each other. Not easy with a 2-year-old. Squish thankfully didn't get it from her, but BigGuy did.

In the same weekend, I also got guilt trips from well-meaning relatives about areas of my life that they don't agree with. Said relatives tend to forget that I'm an adult and am fully capable of deciding what's right for me. They made some wild assumptions about what's going on in my life, based on very little accurate information. The kind of assumptions and judgments that make you want to move very far away and forget you even HAVE relatives.

With all of this stress, my medical condition flared up. I was unable to walk without assistance, and had intense pain. Frustrated with everything happening around me, and my lack of physical strength, I broke down and cried. I don't like feeling weak.

Then I tried to take a step back and analyze my situation better. If I was talking to a girlfriend going through the same things, I would have been amazed at her strength. I would have encouraged her that she was doing a better job than she realized. So even if I don't have the kind of strength I want, in some ways I'm stronger than I give myself credit for.

Does this tie make me look fat?

Today I was wondering why you never hear a guy complain about his weight. You don't catch him checking out his backside in the mirror, or griping about how a tank top makes his arms look flabby. Everyone knows I love my BigGuy, and he'll be the first to admit he's no muscleman. But he's not self-conscious about it. As long as the kids are safely asleep behind closed doors, he will proudly parade around naked.... a feat I will only attempt when sucking in, lifting, jutting, and hoping he's had enough beer to think I look hot.

Every guy I know (no matter what he looks like), thinks he's DARN sexy. When asked to rate themselves on a scale of one to ten, most of my girlfriends averaged around a 3 or 4. My guy friends averaged around a 20. Because 10 just wasn't enough to contain all their hotness, natch.

I have to wonder if this stems (at least in part) from Hollywood's blatant double standard as far as appearances. Almost every sitcom you see on TV has an overweight, normal-looking husband, and a hot wife. Where are the shows with cellulite-ridden, chocolate-eating housewives married to ripped underwear models? It only seems fair.

As a photographer, I KNOW that the images I see in magazines are heavily airbrushed and tweaked. But it's still hard not to look at that perfect body and compare it to my own.

I guess I need to be thankful that BigGuy doesn't hold me to the same standard as I hold myself. He'll gladly wolf whistle and holler compliments at me that would make a construction worker blush. He doesn't see the cellulite and the love handles. Maybe this is one area where I need to see the world through his eyes.

A Graduation, Of Sorts

Tuesday night was our preliminary graduation from pole dancing class. I say preliminary, because the official graduation is next week. But I filmed my classmates' routines so they could watch themselves. It was a nerve-wracking, but exciting, experience. I danced to one of my favorite songs, "Pour Some Sugar on Me." I even nailed the one move that has been giving me so much trouble.

I loved watching my Pole Sisters dance. They each have their own style... some vixens, some slow and sultry. We're all different body types, and from all different places in life. But we're all beautiful in our many ways. I feel like we have a little sorority that meets once a week. I love the camaraderie and the laughter, as well as the support and advice. It's everything I love about girl friendships, without the catty backbiting. Only positive comments and positive attitudes are allowed, and that makes for a very inspiring atmosphere.

So as I watched my own dance on video, my first thought was about how fat I look. Being a woman, I had to critique myself as usual.

But then I forced that thought out of my head. I watched myself, and saw the sensuality. I replayed my friends' comments in my head... that I looked hot... that they couldn't see any cellulite on my body... that I did an amazing job.

I realized I'm carrying myself differently since starting this class 2 months ago. I hold my head higher, and throw my shoulders back. My muscles are more defined, and I'm losing inches. I have more confidence in my body... even with its imperfections.

So while we are graduating from our level, I feel like I've also graduated to a new level of thinking. No, I'm not a supermodel. But I'm a sensual woman. I can do things I never thought I would be able to do. I can take time to do something that's just about me, and not feel guilty about it. And that's a pretty wonderful place to be.

Squish's Emerging Personality

It's been so fun watching Squish turn into her own little person. Now that she's almost two, we see so many glimpses of what she will be like. She's less dramatic than Bean, and much bolder. She's not afraid to let you know when she's annoyed, and inherited ALL of my Irish temper. She loves to laugh, and tries to copy her big sister all the time.

The girls love to put on "shows" on our fireplace hearth. Before, Squish would just sit there and giggle along while Bean did most of the performing. But Now Squish will stand up and imitate Bean's movements, even adding in music and dance steps where she feels necessary.

It's also been interesting watching her grow apart from Bean a bit. While she still looks up to her big sister, she's definitely hitting that "Independent Two's" phase.

The other day, Bean was VERY excited to go see a friend of hers. She jumped around and squealed for a good 5 minutes. Squish, who had just woken up, watched her mildly. She then looked at me and deadpanned, "Wow." Her comic timing is fantastic.

A few nights ago, the girls were eating dinner, sitting next to each other as usual. Bean asked politely, "Can you please not touch me?" Squish thought about it, and then matter-of-factly said, "No." Bean tried again. "Well, could you at least wipe your hands first?" Squish shook her head no... "Nuh-uh." I guess at least she's honest!

Becoming a Pole Princess...

Tuesday was my first full Pole Dancing class, and it was fantastic! Much of what we covered was a recap from the teaser intro, which was fine with me. I needed my memory refreshed! We started off with introductions, and talked about what brought us to the class. As I sat with these women, I realized it had been a long time since I'd been in a setting like this.

I was an RA in college, and once a week the RAs would meet and share with each other. It brought us closer, and made us feel like we weren't alone in our struggles. Sitting with these women, talking about our life experiences, I felt like I was right back in college. I think the fact that we're all being vulnerable, and stepping out of our comfort zones together makes us feel unified in some way. We encourage each other, and giggle at our shortcomings.

Our instructor is so sweet and talented. I was in awe of her controlled movements and toned body. I can only hope mine will look half that good! She's confident, but humble, and ready to help us improve.

I think the biggest thing I'm learning from this class is to take time for myself. To feel my muscles stretch, to pay attention to my breathing, to notice how I'm carrying myself. My everyday life is anything but glamorous. I wipe noses, change diapers, and usually do not wear makeup. As I twirl around the pole, I feel girlie and relaxed. Oddly enough, it's not even about being sensual at this point. It's about turning my mind off, and doing something fun without over-thinking it. It's about watching the positive changes in my body... noticing that I can stretch a little further, seeing more definition in my muscles. It's about realizing that aside from being a Mom, a wife, a business owner.... I am a woman.

Zumba!

Last night was my first Zumba class. For those who haven't heard of it, Zumba is an exercise class that uses Latin-style dance. I signed up with a good friend of mine, and the class runs for 12 weeks. It's quite possible the instructor will kill me before then.

Our instructor is a vivacious, curvy woman who's a cop during the day (much to the chagrin of my recently-ticketed friend). Her love for dance is contagious, and she's encouraging without being obnoxious. I was grateful that I had some dance background, since there wasn't a lot of training involved. She basically started dancing and let us follow. I realized just how out-of-shape I was midway through the second fast song. And then she informed us that we were done doing the slow stuff and she was ready to pick up the pace. I told my friend if I was home watching a video, I would've paused her butt by now.

I finished my bottle of water about halfway through the class (next time I will bring two!), but I had a blast. I haven't salsa danced in years, so it was wonderful to feel that rhythm again. Amazingly enough I was able to drag my butt out of bed this morning. Hopefully this class will help me get back to my much smaller self! :)

Let's Get Physical...

Ever since we lost the baby in September, I've been trying to lose weight. I'd love to get back to where I was when BigGuy and I got engaged. While my physical condition makes exercise difficult, it's also improved if I'm in good shape. Sort of a Catch-22.

So I started slowly, exercising on my Gazelle whenever I was able. For those who don't know what a Gazelle is, take a minute to look it up. If nothing else, then to laugh at how ridiculous Tony Little looks. I like the machine, because it doesn't hurt my knees like a stair stepper. But I cannot stand listening to Little's over-hyped voice telling me what to do. I usually opted for music, or a good book/magazine.

As I started to improve, I added the Bowflex to my routine. I used to lift weights a lot when I was in high school and college, so there's something very satisfying about getting my muscles back into shape. It's amazing how much your body remembers about form, and it almost seems like it craves being in good shape again.

I still have bad days (including this past weekend when I had some sort of stomach problem), so I don't get to work out every day. But it has definitely improved my overall physical condition. Right now I'm averaging a workout every other day.

I did not make any major changes to my diet. Let's face it... I love to eat. So any time I've tried to make a diet change that restricted what I eat, I get cranky and end up cheating. Instead, I'm making small changes that will benefit me. In the evening, if I really want a dessert, I can have one unhealthy thing or two healthy things. Before my sickness this last weekend, I had completely gone off pop, because it leaves me feeling bloated and sick. I've also cut back on my dairy intake quite a bit. But believe me, I still love my pizza!

So, with these changes, I'm really excited to be a quarter of the way to my goal weight. Hopefully I can keep my slow-and-steady pace up to get to my goal!

Just One Stomach Flu Away From My Goal Weight....

This past weekend I had some sort of stomach thing going on. Either the flu or food poisoning or something. I had a gig on Saturday, and had to run to the restroom twice in the middle of it to hug the toilet. Luckily it was a very nice couple who didn't make a big deal out of it.

So in between trips, I realized women never really get knocked out of commission. I have a very sympathetic husband, who takes the kids with no complaint if I'm not feeling well. This is not a rant against him. But women, in general, keep working, cleaning, taking care of the kids when they're sick.

Most men I know revert to their childhoods when they're sick. They take off work, refuse showers until their clothes stand alone, and demand comfort foods. One of my best guy friends is the biggest baby I know when he's sick. He lays in bed and moans for days while his wife continues to take care of their five children. BigGuy asks for a special soup I make only when he's sick.

When I told my one girlfriend that I was sick, she reminded me to look at the plus side... I was losing weight.

So as I move back into the land of the eating, I give myself a small pat on the back for being a woman. And for keeping these Saltines down.

You want me to do WHAT now?

Recently a good friend of mine talked me into taking an introductory dance class. No big deal right? I love to dance. Except that this particular dance style involves a pole. This is one of those times I'm glad most of you don't know who I am in real life.

I would consider myself to be a sensual person, but due to my strict conservative upbringing, I usually keep it hidden from the general population. It's between me and my darling husband. Women on poles are generally considered sluts, in my social circles. So to willingly put myself on a pole was not natural for me. Even if it IS for exercise. Apparently there is this whole world of pole dancing for exercise that has nothing to do with stripping. They even have championship competitions.

As we nervously arrived at the studio, I soaked in the beautiful feminine decor, and tried to relax. A few whoops and catcalls from the next room startled me, and my friend and I eyed each other, wondering what to expect. The owner asked if we'd like to watch the class that was graduating, so we could see some of what we'd be learning. We nodded, and followed her into the dance studio.

Now, you have to understand, my experience with pole dancing is limited to Susan's performance on Desperate Housewives a couple of weeks ago. I have never been to a strip club, or seen anyone dance like that in real life. So I felt a strange mix of awe and embarrassment as these women moved sensually and acrobatically around the poles. There was no shyness on their parts... they loved what they were doing. It was an art form, the way they flipped around and balanced perfectly. I was most impressed with a bigger girl who danced with abandon, loving her curves and showing her confidence.

Thankfully, our introduction class was limited to two trainers, and my friend and I. In the darkened room, we did some stretching, and just paid attention to ourselves. It was odd for me to spend so much focusing on myself. I recalled the paperwork we signed when we arrived, that said no negative body talk was allowed. It was safe here. I didn't have to hold in my fat rolls, or worry about my crooked smile. No one was looking at me and judging. It was very freeing.

After one of the toughest core workouts I've EVER had, we moved to the poles. It was a learning experience for both my friend and I, as we both tend to over-think things. The instructor told us to just relax and not think.... just spin and have fun. Once I was able to turn my brain off, I actually enjoyed it and did it "right". I felt sexy and strong. And MAN was I sore the next day! I think what I took away from it the most is the attitude there. That as women, we deserve to take time to feel sexy and important. That we need to feed into ourselves in order to have the energy to give back to our families.

So will I be working the pole as a part-time job? Definitely not. But I have a lot more respect for how much skill and strength it takes! I signed up for the class, and I'm excited to see how it improves both my body and my self-esteem. I've decided this is the year to stretch out of my comfort zone, and try things I would never usually try. I can only hope to grow as a person because of it.

Lack of Communication

I consider myself to be a fairly down-to-earth person. I don't think I'm too hard to talk to, and I'm pretty understanding. So I get frustrated when friends of mine don't communicate. Such has been the case with a friend who I've known for several years. All of a sudden, she won't acknowledge me.

It started a few months ago when she started becoming friends with the group I not-so-fondly call the Mommy Nazis. I was worried they would change her. She knew how much I hate them, but she likes to be friendly with everyone. So we stayed friends, but I felt myself guarding what I said, for fear it would make its way back to my enemies.

Recently I completely forgot we had an appointment. She texted me to see if we were still getting together, and I realized I had forgotten our date. I apologized profusely, and even made an effort to cancel the plans I was in the middle of to meet her. She said it was no big deal. But apparently it was a big deal. Now things are strange, and I have the feeling she's walking away from our friendship. We had plans for her to work with me as a client (as she has many times in the past), and now she's cancelled that.

Is it strange of me to think that a friend should cut you more slack than this? I know if one of my girlfriends forgot an appointment with me, I would feel frustrated but not make a big issue out of it. It's hard not to blame the women who've made my life a living hell. But I am sad to think she would be that easily swayed.

I am a communicator. I like to resolve issues quickly, and can't stand to have things unexplained. If one of my friends doesn't seem to be talking much, I get concerned that they're upset with me, etc. I like to have peace in my relationships.

She is non-confrontational. I don't know how to address this, without things getting more uncomfortable. Sometimes I hate being a girl.

Personal Space... Or Lack Thereof

I'm a fairly cuddly person. I love giving hugs, and snuggling with my family. But sometimes, I need my personal space. Today is one of those days. And today, like every other day, all three of us are jammed into one small couch cushion while I type this. We have a good-sized home. Big enough for a family of four, that's for sure. But without fail, at some point in the day, all four of us end up squished together. Sometimes the dog will even join in. Not that I mind being close to my three favorite people. But it makes it difficult to do my work, or type my blog posts.

This morning, my muscles were sore from an especially enthusiastic workout routine yesterday. I decided to bust out my old yoga DVD. I say old because it's a prenatal video, which usually prompts questions from Bean about my chubby tummy. But if you ignore all the sappy references to the "miraculous growing being inside you," it's a fantastic workout.

About halfway through the video, I remembered WHY I haven't done this video in a while. Bean likes to try to join me in doing yoga. Of course she wants to share the mat with me, so I'm bending and twisting at even stranger angles to avoid clocking her in the head. Today, while trying to do floor work, Squish decided she wanted to sit on my lap. It was easy enough to adapt when I was doing leg stretches, etc. But not so easy when I'm trying to do plank and table poses. The final straw was when I was trying to relax in Child's Pose, and she lifted my head up because she thought I was sad. "Mama SMILE!"

I gave up. I guess this is how my children ensure they will have a nice comfy lap to sit in for years to come.

"Vacationing" with children

Last weekend, we went to Galena, IL with some good friends of ours. We had our two kids, and their 4 kids... all ages 5 and under. After reaching a point of extreme frustration with our husbands, my friend and I realized the problem. Vacationing with kids is no vacation for us moms. It's our lives... just in a different location. We still had to wake up, take care of the kids, cook, clean, do laundry... how was this relaxing?

So next time I think we're going to bring a babysitter. If we plan on relaxing, anyways. :)

We did get two good hours to relax and not be "Mama". We went to the delightful Galena Beads, and got to each make bracelets. We had wine and chocolate, and had a wonderful time. I think I may have a new hobby!

Gee thanks...

Last night, in the car, Squish treated me to her favorite new game. Seeing how many times she can say "Mama" before I lose my mind. I respond quickly at first, and then after I realize she just likes the way it sounds, I give up and let her babble. Well, last night she apparently decided she had something to say after an hour of babbling.

Squish: "Mama. Mama! MAMA!!!!"

Me: "WHAT??"

Squish: "I wuv Daddy."

Me: :sigh: