Monthly Archives: July 2010

Earlier today we had Alexander’s birthday party. Yesterday I baked a caramel cake, made a mud pie and picked up a few bottles of wine. This morning I faxed an order into Chin Chin, and this afternoon we showed up the ice rink. The kids ate and Mr. G. organized them for broomball, the parents enjoyed each other’s company, and all was good.

It was easy. Incredibly easy, and like most summer parties it was a small gathering, which is perfect for my son.

One of the moms is pregnant, she’s having a baby for a local couple. This is her second time being a surrogate. I am absolutely fascinated. She told me a little bit about the process (I have one friend who went through it recently as the parent), and what is most remarkable is that her take on things was very similar to the parent’s. She makes it seem like a winning arrangement for everyone. Apparently she is not psychotic while pregnant (I might have been).

Another mom told me that her brother is a blogger. I looked him up, and he’s got a funny take on things, of course she followed up with “it’s perfect for narcissists”.

Um, okay I get it bloggers are narcissists. I would love to talk more about that, but let’s talk more about me.

Easy day, we’re wrapping up July, and sailing into August with ease. Tomorrow I will finally post our book club discussion and add links to everyone’s blog posts about The Saturday Wife, later this week we’ll pick a new book to read.

Also, you MUST watch this. You know that McDonalds is making smoothies, right? If you didn’t LOVE Jamba Juice yesterday, I’m pretty sure you’ll love them today.

Enjoy.

Every moment of July has been busy. Alexander’s birthday means I’m baking cakes, organizing dinners, parties, shopping and quelling the occasional meltdown.

It’s all too much for him, it’s all too much for me.

The birthday was fun. Alexander woke up early and didn’t let us know. Mr. G. has returned from a business trip at 1am, and Alexander sweetly wanted to let him sleep. Both kids were allowed to eat junk cereal, he opened presents, and then we went to meet my brother for an hour of Go Kart Racing.

There was blood, and thank goodness it wasn’t the kids (or me).

After Go Kart Racing we had burgers, and a trip to Game Stop. We basically said “yes” all day long. We got a phone call saying his new glasses were ready, and my son got to look smashing on his birthday.

Moms: you do NOT want your little ones getting Silhouettes if they are active. They lasted exactly five weeks before breaking.

We ran to the farmstand and loaded up on strawberries, and then came home to relax a while. The kids had drum and guitar lessons, and then we went to Hot Wings Cafe to meet up with the rest of the family. All 843 of them.

On the way to Hot Wings Jane and Alexander were monkeying around, and Alexander fell. And he bounced. On his head.

It was this horrible moment where your little boy trips and falls, doesn’t get his hands out in time, and you watch him hit the ground so hard that he bounces back up, only to fall and hit again.

And I wanted to cry.

Thankfully Mr. G was there, and there were minimal tears. Minimal.

We had dinner, hot wings and hamburgers on the same day were very nine year old-ish, and then off to Baskin Robins for a two scoop sundae for the birthday boy.

Naturally the kids had a hard time waking up on Thursday, and they were a little late to camp. I played tennis, hurt my knee and spent the majority of the day feeling sorry for myself.

You see, I’ve got this crazy swelling in two of my knuckles, and I went to the doctor this week. Why? Well after two years I thought it was time for someone to take a look at it. The hand specialist says there’s nothing wrong with the bones, but he’s sending me to a soft tissue expert. The soft tissue expert is a cash only doctor, and now I feel better knowing that for $450 he will have to look at two knuckles and a knee. $150 a joint, right?

When I picked the kids up from camp yesterday, I whisked them straight down the 405 to Irvine where we went to Dave & Busters to meet friends. Dave & Busters is sensory overload in every way. Naturally Dave & Busters was followed by a trip to the shoe store and then to Pinkberry.

The kids passed out in the car, and we didn’t get home until 10pm.

Today I’m baking a cake for Alexander’s birthday party tomorrow, and buying all the paper goods.

Monday I’m going to sit down and contemplate my navel. July is a busy month.

It’s that time of year. The time of year when a few thousand women pack up, some say goodbye to their families, some just get a pet sitter or wave at a roommate, and they start the Pilgrimage to The BlogHer Conference.

Twitter and Facebook are populated with “What will I wear/do/say/go to…” and many more. I’ll start my Survival Guide here, and ask y’all to help me out in the comments.

What to wear: Casual. BlogHer is a casual event. If you are a blogger going to meet up with girfriends go with the sundress and sandals route. Just toss a cardigan into your purse in case the sessions are in overly air conditioned rooms.

If you are a blogger who is attending BlogHer in hopes of landing a paying job, then you’ll need to dress for the job you want. Think casual friday, linen pants or lightweight slacks with a top (not a tee shirt) and close toed shoes. Alternately you can wear the sundress, just make sure it’s long enough.

I’m going to delight my friend April by quoting Annie, “You’re never fully dressed without a smile”. I promise you, in the absence of an outrageous costume, no one at the BlogHer Conference will be judging your outfits, but smiling at folks is the surest way to make friends. Engage them. Smile. This is the most important bit of advice I can give you.

Which parties should I go to? It’s nice to stop in at the parties you are invited to, but if you aren’t interested in the brand or the activity it’s perfectly fine to decline an invitation.

This I promise you, no matter where you are, you will feel left out of something. I want you to try and remember that everyone will have pangs of feeling left out. Do not let the feelings interrupt you, stop, breathe, and enjoy the room you are in. You will be surrounded by smart, dynamic people.

I wasn’t invited to THE party: It’s okay, it’s just one party. Conferences are littered with parties, events and networking. You can’t be everywhere, but you can enjoy where you are. Are you seeing a theme here?

My lipstick runs when I eat/talk too much/wear it all day. Try Lipfinity. It’s very drying so you don’t want it for everyday, but you do want it for conferences. Good lipstick matters.

I really want to meet ____ but I’m too shy. Don’t worry, she probably is too. That’s why she is blogging instead of greeting people as they walk into retail stores. You’re got your non-runny lipstick, your smile and your casual clothes, you’re just as important as anyone in that room, so there’s no reason to worry.

I just want to party with my friends. Good, but you aren’t at home. You may feel like you’re in a safe place, but you absolutely are not. You’re a stranger in a hotel in New York City. Have A drink. After dinner have ONE more drink. Don’t be the drunk girl, the drunk girl is not fun to spend time with, and the drunk girl does not feel well the next day. Drinking too much is the best way to ruin your weekend away.

I don’t want to see ____, I don’t like her. Seriously? Really? This isn’t high school, no one should have that much power, don’t give it to them.

I am going to ask a lot of questions at the sessions. Good, but when you do, make sure you don’t self promote. Last year there was a lot of, “Hi my name is Mommy McBlogger and I write at McBloggerHood.com and since I’m the foremost expert on selling your community out for a Big Mac and a fifty cent coupon I was wondering if any of you _____.” What happens is that Mommy McBlogger is remembered for being inappropriately self promotional.

I want to tell people all about my blog. Refrain. People aren’t there to read your blog, people are there to make human connections. I’m sure you can linkbait them and get them to read your one BlogHer wrap up post, but will that matter? If you want to make good conversation ask people about themselves. Remember their names, your perceived fame is limited to your blog, you are there to meet other people, to hear their opinions and learn about them.

If you ask people about themselves you will be remembered as a good conversationalist. Oh, and smile a little too, then you’ll be remembered as the nice conversationalist.

What would you add?

I tucked Alexander in to bed this evening, and he called me back for more kisses. His last eight year old kisses. He told me how he was always the littlest one in the house and Jane is better than him at everything. It’s frustrating.

He told me that being eight was wonderful, that there were three perfect games, well two really, one on Mother’s day, and one was a bad call and everyone knows it, but the world counts it as a perfect game. He speaks in code, Major League Baseball is the benchmark.

I told him that I was proud of him, that I think this year he’s gained control of his emotions and he’s getting to be quite generous. I told him that generosity is a sign of maturity, and it’s fun to watch him mature. He told me more about the Yankees.

In the last 364 days he’s made new friends. He told me about a few kids at camp that he’s quite certain that he will be friends with forever. My heart soared. He told me about learning cursive, and what it’s like to be the fourth tallest kid in the class.

I told him that I love being his mother.

I almost understand football enough to nod at the right parts of the story. He rewards me by telling me some of his dreams, though most of them he keeps private.

My son the private child.

We were waiting for the light to change today, and he leaned into me. For the first time I realized I was leaning into him. He’s big enough for that now.

Tomorrow my boy is nine. Our lives are perfect.

Today there are parallel stories as it relates to our increasingly dysfunctional relationship with food. As our food looks less and less like plants and animals (as it should) our waistlines continue to expand, and Britain’s fattest lady died recently at the tender age of 40.

Sharon Mevsimler was a 45 stone mother. 45 stones is approximately 600 pounds. At 5 feet tall, she was almost five times my weight (I am 5’6″). Are you capable of carrying your own weight? Twice your weight? Three times? What’s the limit before your body gives out? For Mevsimler it was 45 stones.

Also today a woman was bumped from her Southwest flight. She was not obese, she was petite, but the obese FOURTEEN YEAR OLD CHILD next to her required two seats.

When do we say, “The fat acceptance movement has it wrong.”? When do we say that our children are worth fighting for? When do we treat this as a clinical problem instead of an issue of looking cute?

When a 14 year old child cannot fit in an airplane seat it is not time to make the seats larger. It’s time to say, “You’re fat and you need help”. When a 40 year old mother dies, and her friends and family sneak fried food into the hospital room so that she can kill herself in a bucket of chicken, it’s time for the world to take a stand.

I’m not worried about a nation of anorexics. A third of our children are fat. You can call it overweight, you can call it obesity, you can call it adipose tissue. Three in every ten kids is fat and this prevents them from playing, and maturing at the appropriate time. Our children will live shorter lives than you and I, and I promise you it’s the food and the hovering.

I beg you, please turn off the computer and kick your kids out of the house. Hand them a ball or a bucket of chalk and don’t let them inside.

And then, when they come back in the house, let them drink water and eat only foods that they can pronounce.

Moms, your kids are going to die. It’s not baby fat. It’s Munchausen By Twinkies.

I left butter (half wrapped) on the kitchen counter. My housekeeper unwrapped it all the way, used her fingers and plunked the butter into an unwashed butter dish. I do not want to offend her, but I’m circling the butter and making sure that no one uses it. After she leaves I will put the butter in the trash, run the butter dish through the dishwasher, and quite possibly clean the house again. Just to be sure it’s done right. I know I have issues. I need to reevaluate my actual need for a housekeeper.

Project Mom Casting is… well, casting. The first ever unscripted TV show about Mom Bloggers looks to be well underway and you can apply here if you’ve ever dreamed of being on camera. It’s quite likely that I’ll submit something, mostly because I like putting on lipstick and talking to the camera more than I enjoy compulsively scrubbing butter dishes.

While writing this, I realized that I don’t want to offend my housekeeper, but I do want to fire her. Do not interrupt my blog posts with logic. Logic has no place here.

The folks at Virgin sent me a Rumor 2 cell phone for the kids to try out. Uh, yeah right. I stole it. I like it, and it’s mine, but now it’s time to return it to Virgin. I’ll make a video later, you know like when I’m filming my audition tape for the unnamed Mom Blogger Reality Show.

The kids are at camp overnight, and they have about 8 hundred bazillion items with them, but they don’t have ME. I’m looking forward to a night alone with my husband, and it’s not even that many hours, but I hate the house when my kids aren’t here at night. I just do.

TIP: A lot of folks are talking about this video.

I’m seeing it get a decent amount of traffic, but if you’re linking to it rather than embedding it, I don’t know who you are. If you embed someone’s video there is a very good chance they will promote your blog. More traffic is good for everyone. See?

Its time for the weekend. I’ll make a million videos today, and try and share them with you shortly.