My stepbrother texted me last night to let me know that he’d sent Alexander a text saying “keep it clean”. I was out buying the perfect silk blouse so I couldn’t exactly be bothered with parenting at the time.

When I got home I asked Alexander for his cell phone. He looked sheepish handing it to me and we went through the text messages together. Most of the text messages were fine, funny even. There were links to chicken butt pictures.

And then there was a note to his cousin saying, “This is you”. Along with this picture.

There was also a WTF. Potty mouth… I wonder where my child would pick that up?

I sat down with my boy to talk to him about media use. I reminded him that Daddy and I would always be checking his texts, computer and emails. I told him that anything you write is public and you should want it so that even your mom could read it. Blah blah blah it was the same talk I’ve been giving Jane for years. Even I was bored listening to me.

I asked Alexander if he knew what WTF meant. He nodded his head and looked embarrassed. I told him that I knew it was funny and that it was a word I’d like him to not use but that I know everyone slips up. I also told him to NEVER write it so that people wouldn’t think he was a bad kid.

Take my advice, son, I won’t be needing it.

Then I asked him about the picture. Why would you send that to your cousin?

“Because it’s an ugly guy.” He said.

Is there anything else about it that’s bad? I asked him this in a thousand different ways. Finally I pointed to the chin. Is there anything about his chin that is bad?

“It’s long.” He said, and looked genuinely curious.

I didn’t punish him. I’m out of the business of punishment, being embarrassed with your mom is lesson enough.

Later in the evening I showed Mr G the image. “He sent this to his cousin.” I said. Mr G shrugged nonchalantly.

Apparently I’m the only one in the house able to identify a scrotum.

I hated twitter parties. The term still makes me cringe.

Twitter has changed. I loved celebrating 20k with y’all and I’m pretty sure you’ll see more hashtagged events from me.

I’m willing to say I was wrong.

Jane is invited to a birthday party at Sephora. Well, we think she’s invited, I don’t have the evite, but the host child assures her I need to RSVP. The girls will be getting makeovers and whatnot. It’s a very nice but fairly typical birthday party so I was going to buy my fairly typical birthday gift which puts us close to $40 with card and gift wrap.

Since I’m off to Chicago tomorrow morning I need to buy the gift today and Jane has instructed me to purchase about $75 worth of cosmetics for the 13 year old birthday girl. I started to say no, but since we were on the way to school I didn’t want her going to class upset. I figure she’ll just have to be upset at home.

I want to explain to her that every birthday party is pricey. We spent a fortune on her 13th but the gifts were in line with what I’m prepared to spend. I thought about telling her to spend her own money, but I don’t want her feeling like she has to overspend.

We’ve done a miserable job showing restraint for our own kids. Birthdays and Hanukkah always seem to creep up to a thousand. After 13 years of excessive gifts for my own kids how do I turn around and tell Jane that it’s just not like that?

I guess I just do. I’m not shelling out $75 for a birthday party and I’m not prepared to let my daughter use her money.

What would you do… besides turn back time?

Who doesn’t love a three day weekend? I had little to do these last three days with the exception of one very important audition yesterday. Yes, I said it, an audition for a radtastic docuseries that I can’t tell you anything about because I don’t know anything about it except that I want to host it and they should want me to host it too because… because I said so.

Of course it went well because all Hollywood meetings go well. Everyone loves you and is sweet and wonderful and kind because they want you to not look like holy hell on camera. I loved the casting director. He was the opposite of of what a casting director usually is. There were no scented candles and I didn’t offer to shake his hand (because everyone knows you never actually touch a casting director). When he put out his hand to shake mine I almost went Big Love and asked him to marry me and Mr. G. I was flattered.

After the audition we dropped Jane off for a little shopping at The Grove and then Mr. G and I took Alexander to lunch at the Laurel Tavern, which has one of my favorite salads and the worlds worst ambience. People were wearing heavy coats indoors, but no one who worked there thought to close the windows.

We ran through Sports Authority on the way home so that I could get a watch for running (I’m back to running, but oh so slowly). I think I’ll return the watch because a $5 iPhone app seems to be doing a better job for me.

When we got home at 2 I was totally emotionally drained. Alexander had three boys waiting at the front door for him and an afternoon of playing outside. I went upstairs to the big white chair in my bedroom to close my eyes for a half hour. It was a treat that I knew I would enjoy.

For two hours I slept lightly waking often to the sounds of my son’s laughter. I can hear his laugh over the laugh of the other three boys. He’s mine, and I know his particular sound, it’s a song in my heart.

I laid on my oversized chair dozing with my dog and being serenaded by the song of my son’s joy.

It was one of those afternoons when I knew that my life is, in fact, perfect.

There’s bad news everywhere today. I just sat down to check my emails and my aunt sent me one with a subject line that says NO!!!!! and a link to the new Lego Friends site.

This is the landing page for Lego friends.

This is the landing page for the regular Lego site.

I love Legos. I loved playing with them with both my children when they were little and now that the kids knock me out of the way I’ve been known to sit alone and put together the architectural series on my own.

We have issues. We have very smart women and girls being told that they aren’t of value unless they are adorable/sexy/fashionable.

When I called the LEGO group at 1-800-838-9647 to give a little feedback they explained to me that Lego Friends is the result of four years of research including research where girls said they wanted more realistic characters. They’re LEGO, they used to be the best. Now, they’re LEGO and they still have great toys, but maybe they don’t think girls need great toys?

Please LEGO. Please stop telling my daughter that her brain doesn’t matter.

According to CBS News Paula Deen is expected to reveal today that she has type two Diabetes as well as a partnership with an unnamed drug manufacturer.

It’s brilliant really. Ms. Deen hawks fatty foods encouraging an obese America to add more butter and cream cheese (don’t worry about all that organic stuff). America dutifully cheers every time she drops a stick of butter into a pot of slop and BAM (to riff on Emeril)! America eats their way into type two diabetes and Ms. Deen has a cure all for them [insert life sustaining product here].

Maybe next she can partner with Allegan and their kiddie Lap-Band?