Wednesday Confession

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Day three of my vacation and week of confessions. Here is number three (a little early so it’s up by Wednesday morning): I hate concerts. I hate getting to them with all of the traffic and pressing of bodies on public transportation. I hate the smell of stadiums. I hate waiting in line for bathrooms that are either port-a-pottys – or may as well be in their level of ickiness. I hate memorabilia and tee shirts. I hate sitting in one place for more than a couple of hours. And I hate knowing that I’ll have to repeat the same commute on the way home.

This doesn’t mean that I’ve never been to concerts. I’ve been to many – but the older I get the less of a tolerance I have for them. Best case scenario for me is an open air situation with lawn seats, allowing the opportunity to walk around, talk and pack a picnic basket. Yeah – snacks make everything better…

What about you? Have anything to confess?

Tuesday Confession

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Day two of my vacation and week of confessions. Here is number two: I have 20 Whole Foods grocery bags in the trunk of my car. I mean the kind that you buy so that you don’t ruin the environment with plastic bags or even the paper bags that are apparently just as bad. But I never remember to bring them into the store with me, so I continue to find myself buying new ones. I COULD just use the paper – but it’s now a matter of principle. I am a Whole Foods shopper that uses environmentally friendly bags. That was the point in buying the first one. It was an effort to make a difference – even in my own small way. But when I go to the regular grocery store I use their plastic. So my principles are exactly as ridiculous as they sound.

What about you? Have anything you’d like to confess?

Monday Confession

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Ugh Monday. It’s so hard to go back to the office/watch your mother’s helper (husband) leave for work and KNOW that there are five more days to get through before the next weekend. That is, unless you are spending your week at the BEACH. That’s right – I’m on vacation. So I’m just doing a short post each day. Every day I’m going to confess something. Nothing too deep and dark. Just some little things.

Here is my confession for Monday. I listen to recorded books. I don’t mean on long road trips either. I mean any time that I am in the car, exercising or doing something that might be otherwise mindless. Most people listen to music or just enjoy the opportunity to be alone and think. Not me – if I don’t have a story to listen to, I get panicky. What if I get bored? What if I get stuck in traffic and have to be bored for a really long time? It’s just not something I’m willing to risk.

My recorded books obsession began about ten years ago when I was still calling them “books on tape” (pfft – so 90s). I thought that it might be a good distraction for running at the gym. Like I’d get so caught up in the book that I’d forget that I was actually exercising. It didn’t really work – but I did find that it made the activity a little more bearable. But then I found that as with any good book, it was hard to put down the headphones. I continued to listen on the tape deck in my car. And it snowballed from there.

Now I’m a full on recorded books nerd. I get them from the library and have paid many a late fee. I have favorite “voices” and will sometimes base a book selection on whether or not I am familiar with the reader. I will give pretty much anything George Guidall reads a try. I was even hideously disappointed when I saw that he was going to speak at a Fairfax County Library event and I couldn’t get a ticket. I’m not the most involved library patron. Didn’t see the flyer until too late. THAT was disappointing.

What about you? Have anything you’d like to confess?

First Month Wrap Up: Perverts and Haters and Mormons – Oh My!

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Well I’ve been blogging for a little over a month now – so I thought I’d do a write up on the experience.

First – I am proud to announce that even with a post titled Peeping Toms and Sex Perverts in Thailand, I still haven’t gotten all that many creepy key word searches. In fact, most seem to be cake-related. Which makes me feel bad because I kind of gave up on working in any cake-related content to accompany my metaphor… So my apologies to those people who got here thinking that I had fabulous recipes on offer.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get some weird ones… I still wince when I think about that “how big is a piece of poop” search I mentioned in the post referenced above. And there was also a very suspicious one for “big peince” that seems to have originated in Thailand. Something tells me they weren’t looking for cake. I also still get a lot of Darth Vader searches (sorry Star Wars fans). But my personal favorite from yesterday was “a famous mom blogger funny.” Really? After just a month? I’m now famous? Not quite. I clicked on the link to see what Google listed and – surprise – I’m not there. BUT Meghan, the creator of one of my favorite sites, AllMediocre was at the top of the list. So that was nice (you know – in a really happy for you – maybe I’ll live vicariously through you kind of way).

I also got to experience my first round of hate mail comments. Who knew that writing about how you don’t like driving a big car would make people so angry. I don’t get THAT many comments – so I’m really only talking about a handful of haters. But still, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little.

I would like to commend Mr. T in DC for providing an opinion, but stating it without actual venom. It made me want to read what he said and think about it – not flinch as if someone had slapped me. I said it before and I’ll say it again, “there aren’t enough Mr. T in DCs out there…” Anonymous – you know how I feel about you, but I won’t stoop to your level of meanness.

And I’d like to take this opportunity to point out to the people that say “my parents had three children and never needed such a big car,” that your parents were raising children when car seats were removed once a child could sit up on their own, and the “way back” was considered an area for additional seating. Until you try to jam three car seats across the back seat of a sedan or smaller SUV (or a “station wagon” no less), please refer to Mr. T in DC’s comment for more realistic alternatives to suggest.

Really – it’s been great aside from the few assaults on my pornaphobic sensibilities and tender feelings. Feelings that are still a little hurt, by the way. As Rizzo from Grease said when she sang, There are Worse things I Could Do, “I can feel and I can cry – a fact I bet you never knew.” Okay – that’s not actually true – I’m over it. But I really like to quote musicals. Just ask my husband (I’ll have to write a post on that…)

The better moments have included getting crucified by my friends for thinking mommyhole.com was a harmless sounding domain name, learning how to do domain name searches as a form of entertainment (you play solitaire – I search domain names), crucifying my husband (payback for the mommyhole debacle) for being a creative slob, visiting my parents in Key West, drinking too much wine and not dancing responsibly, taking pictures of my son’s Star Wars underwear, and getting to tell off my friend’s ex-boyfriend Mayank online.

But my FAVORITE blog-related experience to date? Meeting the funny Mormons of course! I thought I was writing a post that only my other friends that didn’t know any Mormons would read, and to direct them to a Kacy‘s wonderfully funny blog, Every Day I Write the Book. It never occurred to me that Kacy would COMMENT. I literally shrieked like a teenage girl when I saw it (and I wasn’t one for shrieking when I WAS a teenager). It was both hilarious and horrifying at the same time. I quickly got over my embarrassment though since all of the comments that I got from Mormons (particularly Kacy, Rachel, “Vern”, Lisa and Bek) were incredibly warm and gracious. And informative – did you know that Jon Heder is Mormon and that there are all kinds of jokes in Napoleon Dynamite that only Mormons get? ME NEITHER!

Anyway – not only have I found some new online friends in the Mormon community, I’ve also been invited to guest post on Light Refreshments Served. I was instructed to keep it clean for the nice ladies that read it. And after slashing all of the curse words and pornographic imagery, I was able to come up with something that I think everyone can enjoy. I’ll be featured next Friday, August 1 – so put it on your calendar. And I’ll post a reminder next week.

So – 31 days….it’s hard to believe. It feels more like 40. Well – here’s to 40 (or 4,000) more! Thanks for reading me and COMMENT so I can read you too!

World Wrestling Champion

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Oliver is very strong. And he’s been that way since he was a baby. I remember in those early months after getting him dressed for daycare, I’d feel like I spent the morning wrestling gorillas. Not much has changed.

He was over 9 lbs. at birth and has continued to be a very big boy. So between his size and his strength (and his force of will), he’s almost impossible to overpower in a struggle. ALMOST impossible. You see, while he’s been growing and getting stronger – I have been getting stronger myself. All of this lifting/hoisting/carrying/immobilizing of a now 47 lb. boy has developed upper body strength that I never dreamed I’d have. I honestly think that I could join any high school wrestling team and lead them to the state championship.

But that doesn’t mean it’s fun. Every day is a work out. When Oliver was first showing signs of this, I used to make jokes about how I envisioned myself grappling with a giant two year old in the mall. Now he’s three. It’s not funny anymore.

And to make things even more complicated – he has delayed speech, so we’re not really at a point where I can try reasoning with him. For now, all I can do is keep up my strength and enjoy the look of my arms in a tank top.

Really – he’s a good natured kid. And as his teacher always says to me, “there isn’t a mean bone in his body.” He’s just really physical and he loves to play very physical games. Running, throwing balls, rolling around on the floor, being tickled…it all thrills him. Unfortunately, he just doesn’t know his own strength. He never means to be too rough with his much younger, MUCH smaller siblings. But he really needs to learn when it’s just a little “too much.”

The twins absolutely egg him on of course. He can be happily playing with blocks, minding his own business, and they’ll come over and start poking at him. At first, he’ll ignore them, but once they really get his attention, you can just see his eyes light up. And then he’s all, “Welcome, to another edition of Thunderdome!”

The irony is that I’m almost positive that he’s not going to be a big man. None of the men in my life are tall (my husband, father and brother are all around 5’ 8’’). And even the tall men in Chris’ family are more in the 6 foot range. So my guess is that sometime in early high school, everyone else will catch up.

But I do think that he’ll continue to be strong. Even if he’s short (or “not tall”), he’s a solid kid and those muscles make him a match for children twice his age. This can help him in any sport, and we’re thinking that will probably be the best channel for all of that energy he has. Maybe he’ll be a wrestling team champion. I have little experience in this area, but I’m sure that I can help. Now that I’ve developed this upper body strength and perfected my “holds” – I can probably help with the training. Because you know – I can take him.

Parenting Skills at Their Best

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I try to limit the potty training references since I have some readers without kids – and one of the perks to not having children is NOT having to spend your day talking about poop. So I’ll warn you now that it IS going to come up in this one. And it’s not going to be pretty.

On Monday evening, I arrived home alone with the kids. Chris had to drive separately that day, and as usual, he had metro problems delaying him by at least an hour. Now, I am home with alone with the kids quite a bit since Chris has to travel for work. But I’ve been finding it increasingly more complicated since the twins ceased to be blobs (that’s right all you Angelina haters – babies do start out as BLOBS) and have joined their older brother in his daily mission to make me a lunatic.

Actually, it’s been a while since anyone would call George and Eleanor “blobs” – but in the recent past, they were far more sedentary. Approaching their second birthday, they are now a force to be reckoned with, and taking your eyes off of them for more than a minute can result in nothing short of global thermonuclear war. Or at least a toilet paper trail from the bathroom that circles the first floor ten times.

The first half hour was a whirlwind of the usual chaos – a blur of kids playing, crying and climbing on furniture while I tried to make dinner, get the daycare bag emptied and start lunches for the following day. It’s impossible for me to remember the exact sequence of events up until the first minor crisis – but that that pretty much sums it up.

Once everyone was busy eating dinner and watching (surprise, surprise) yet another Wiggles DVD, I ran downstairs to change a load of laundry. Suddenly, I could hear Oliver calling to me, “Mommy! Mommy!” But it didn’t sound like he was upset, so I yelled, “just a minute” a few times until I was done. When I came upstairs, I realized that he was calling me to let me know that he had to go potty. He is really only 75% potty trained and still needs help getting through the process. So all I could do was hustle him into the bathroom as quickly as possible and hope that he could at least “finish” on the potty.

Though I was fairly sure he was done, I settled him on the toilet anyway and then ran to answer the phone. It was Chris. He was calling to let me know that he was still stuck on the metro and would get back to me once he was in his car. At this point, my half naked son walked into the kitchen to announce that he wanted ice cream. I asked if he was finished on the potty and then realized that not only was he finished, but he had the subject matter smeared all over his rear end (must have happened when I was pulling down his pull up). I instructed him to “stay right there” (which he didn’t) while I ran for the wipes. Then the phone started ringing again. I ignored it.

While I was cleaning off my three year old, I heard little voices coming from the bathroom. Great! Now the twins were in there, and most likely throwing things into the toilet. After another directive for Oliver to “stay there” (which he didn’t) I ran to find the twins and was relieved to see that they were only trying to climb onto the sink and not anywhere near the toilet. “Okay – everybody out!”

Once I got Oliver clean and busy with an activity, I saw that it was time for the twins’ bath. They raced up the stairs yelling “water!” and happily scampered into the kids’ bathroom. While simultaneously running the water, getting the twins undressed and blocking them from the tub until they were in fact naked, I saw that I was going to have a big problem on my hands… George must have run into his bedroom at some point, and was now clutching his blankie.

George is obsessed with his blankie, and I spend quite a bit of time tricking him into letting go of it so I can throw it upstairs while he’s distracted. I thought I had accomplished this when we got home, but my efforts were foiled by his wily reconnaissance. Now “Linus” wanted to bring the blankie into the tub with him. He is a toddler, and neither willing nor able to listen to reason. And since his current vocabulary consists of “car, truck, train, bus, more and thank you,” there was no point in trying to engage him in discussion about it. I had to forcibly remove the blanket and put him into the water kicking and screaming.

Eleanor splashed happily while George wailed and tried to climb out. I just washed him off quickly and then set him free to reunite with the blankie. Knowing that he had left the bathroom and could, that very minute be peeing all over the second floor, I rushed through Eleanor’s scrubbing. George and his blankie returned within minutes and I was just in time to stop him from throwing the paperback that he was aiming at the water. This was the final signal for bath time to be over, and against Eleanor’s vehement protestations, I pulled the plug. Within seconds I had two naked toddlers in Oliver’s room (where we have all of the bedtime books). One was crying (Eleanor) and one was trying to sneak out the door (George). I closed the door, placed myself in front of it and started stuffing them into their pajamas.

At this point, Oliver decided to come see what all of the commotion was about and tried to open the door. After a few seconds, I realized that he couldn’t get in, and that’s when it hit me: the door was LOCKED. The previous owners installed the door knob to Oliver’s bedroom so that it locked from the outside. I gratefully took advantage of this when we moved Oliver to his toddler bed, and found it comforting to know that I could lock the door and not worry about him wandering the house while I slept. But it never occurred to me that I could get locked in with him on the OUTSIDE.

Never one to panic, I responded to Oliver’s increasing anxiety with comforting promises that I would “fix it” and a lot of the ever popular, “in just a minute.” All the while, I was running through possible action plans. Climbing out the window was not an option since it would be a three story drop, but I thought a neighbor might be outside. So I opened the window and started calling for help. No dice. Everyone was inside their air conditioned homes.

Meanwhile, Eleanor sensing the terror in Oliver’s cries to get in, started crying even louder – which in return increased Oliver’s anxiety. George was furious that I had closed the window (because, you know – that was so much fun), and started crying as well. Great – now I had thee screaming children.

I considered trying to break the door down, but after one half hearted attempt, accepted the fact that I was not the Incredible Hulk. Then I remembered that there were a few wire hangers in Oliver’s closet. DUH – all I had to do was to use the end of a wire to poke the little hole in the door knob and spring the lock. Chris showed me how to do this in our old apartment when I used to worry about Oliver accidentally locking himself in the bathroom.

Within a minute, I had a red-faced, hysterical Oliver in my lap and equally upset twins climbing all over us. Once I had everyone somewhat calmed down, Oliver started dragging us out of the evil room that had kept us away from him for the TEN MINUTES that this drama probably took to unfold. I knew that only one thing could snap everyone out of their hysteria. So I asked, “hey – who wants ice cream?” And then all was golden.

While the twins should have been settling down to sleep and Oliver should have been preparing for his own bath, we sat around the kids’ table exclaiming over the miracle that is ice cream while traumatic events quickly disappeared from our blessedly fickle short term memories.

Good times.

Why I Hate Being a Truck Driver

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Now that I’ve got your attention… I don’t really drive one of the big rigs. I drive a Ford Expedition. SUV owners are either saying, “Eh – My Tahoe is just as big,” or “Oh yeah – my Explorer is quite big enough, thank you very much.”

The truth is – I’m just not a “big car” person. They don’t suit me. I don’t know how to gracefully enter or exit them, I can’t park them to save my life, and if I didn’t have a little alarm that lets me know when I’m getting too close to something behind me, I would have taken out any number of trees and bushes by now.

Obviously this truck was not my choice. After almost a year of cramming three car seats across the back seat of Chris’ Jeep Liberty, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we really needed something roomier. Like any other proper suburban family, we initially discussed minivans. Chris was very against this idea. He practically broke out in hives at the thought. But I could have cared less. I’m not much of a car person in general.

I think my disinterest in cars was cultivated early when as a teenager, I drove a 1985 used “Red Renault Alliance.” I put this in quotes because that is generally how people referred to it: “the Red Renault Alliance.” Here is a picture:

My parents purchased this when I got my drivers license so that I could drive myself to school (at the time I had a very inconvenient public transportation commute from Capitol Hill to Georgetown). My father seemed to believe that I was incredibly lucky to have my own car to drive instead of sharing theirs. I of course, knew that “lucky” better described my friends who were getting new Suzuki Samurais and Cabriolet convertibles for their sixteenth birthdays. Seriously though, I now agree with my father. Upon the Red Renault Alliance’s demise just two short years after we bought it, my brother did have to share a car with my parents. Which in his sixteen year old opinion “sucked.”

The next car that I had was purchased after I got my first job out of college. It was a little blue Toyota Tercel. And in my own twenty-two year old opinion, it “sucked.” But it was all I could afford. And after the dramatic explosion/car flipping/burned feet drama of the Red Renault Alliance, I was not interested in buying anything used. My tiny Tercel had vinyl seats that burned the backs of my legs in the summer and no power steering. This completely destroyed the amazing talent for parallel parking I developed in my parents’ crowded Capitol Hill neighborhood. But just like the Red Renault Alliance, the Tercel was not a status car, and I continued to view cars as simply a means of transportation.

Eventually, I had other larger sedans (Saturns, a Camry), but my interest level never increased. I liked driving a shiny new car, but had no inclination to actually maintain it.

When I met Chris, it was clear that he wasn’t not a car person either. In fact, when I first started dating him, I always drove. His car was a hand me down from his grandparents. I don’t remember the make, but it was white with maroon interior (I believe his friends called it the “maxi pad”) and it had started emitting fumes that made him light headed after about 15 minutes of driving. He moved on to a very basic Jeep Cherokee and shared my apathetic attitude toward maintenance.

So fast forward eight years, three kids, several mediocre cars and a suburban commute later…and we were at a loss as to what we wanted. One weekend, Chris went out to test drive some minivans he had researched online, and instead came back with this:

I was speechless. It was huge. I had to step up onto a running board in order to hoist myself into the front seat. This was by far, the biggest vehicle that I had ever tried to drive. But it’s now been over a year, and like anything else, I’ve gotten used to it.

Reasons why I hate driving it include the following:

Like I said, I’m terrible at parking it. And I don’t even mean parallel parking. I walk out of the grocery store and locate my car by looking for the big truck parked on a diagonal. No matter how carefully I try to get into a space, I usually end up crooked or right up against one neighboring car and a mile away from the other. I’ve even been keyed! And I often end up with some man trying to help direct me in – like those airport guys on the tarmac helping planes pull up to the gates. It’s just humiliating.

Additionally – I find that people are mean to me. Maybe they see my big truck and think that I have an aggressive personality to go with it. All I know is that I have the hardest time getting people to let me change lanes in traffic. It’s like they’re in their little economy car thinking, “Oh no you don’t, you big gas guzzling bully – you’re not cutting in front of me.” If only I could install a sign that said, “I am not driving this car by choice – I have too many children to fit into an environment-friendly compact car.” I doubt anyone would care. They’d probably just key my sign.

Finally, we just don’t match. I don’t look like a big car person. Not only is it not my style, but I don’t have the attitude to pull it off. I’m not particularly petite, but I’ve seen tiny girls climb out of trucks bigger than mine looking like they own the parking lot (they, of course can park without taking up two spaces). This will never be me.

So what car SHOULD I be driving? Most would answer this question with their idea of a dream car. Something eye catching, fast, vintage, expensive… But I’d rather spend the money on my house or a great vacation.

Someday my children will get their drivers licenses, and they’ll be the ones envying their friends with fancy new cars. That’s right – they’ll be driving whatever junkie jalopy we give them. And they’ll be damn lucky to have it!

When You Know That You’ve Been Watching Too Many Wiggles DVDs

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Actual Conversation

Me: So I think there’s like this whole contingent of women that are seriously attracted to Anthony.

Chris: I could see that.

Me: No really – I’ve seen references to this in several places. Once in a book I read, this woman said that you know you’ve past the point of no return as a housewife when “you ask yourself, ‘if I had to sleep with one of the Wiggles, which one would it be?’ (Anthony incidentally.)” And then I know of another woman who made a joke about how “she could look at his smile all day long.”

Chris: Well he is the most normal looking one. [note: I have no idea what Chris meant by “normal.”]

Me: I guess so…

Chris: Well – if you had to sleep with one of the Wiggles, which one would you choose?

Me: Oh, definitely Anthony. The others are out of the question.

A Different "Meme"

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Meme is a term that is new to me. It’s what people call lists of questions that are passed around in a blog game of tag. It’s never been defined for me, but my high school French dictates that it simply refers to giving the “same” list of questions to different people. If this is wrong – please correct me in comments. I won’t be embarrassed since I’ve pretty much passed the point of no return on that front.

There have been a few that looked fun, but I haven’t tried one yet. I did consider a meme that required one word answers to all the questions… Nuff said – not happening here. And I forgot to keep track of where I saw others that caught my attention. So even though I want to try one out – I don’t actually have one…

My good friend Nancy (who really needs a blog by the way), pointed out that one of my advertisers, Tea, will be launching their own blog this Fall, and they’re looking for “writers interested in conversation about raising little citizens of the world.” As someone who has always loved to travel (one of the highlights of my entire existence was a business trip to Beijing), I really like this idea. I want my children to be citizens of the world. I want them to have interesting cultural experiences. I want to visit the countries of our great great grandparents. I want to take my family to restaurants that offer both traditional and fusion cuisines from around the world. But there is one problem. Actually there are three, and their names are Oliver, George and Eleanor.

Oliver is three years old and George and Eleanor are still a few months away from two. So they’re not really the best candidates for intercontinental travel and fine dining. There were six questions posed to us as writers for subject matter in potential blog contributions. I found that I could not only NOT answer them, I couldn’t really imagine how ANYONE with children small enough to wear Tea designs could possibly contribute to such a discussion.

So I’m creating a new meme. It’s called Citizens of the World. Here are the questions and my answers:

Q: Do you know great places to travel abroad with kids?

A: We have no experience in traveling as a family outside of the U.S. but I believe my husband’s take on our flight to Boston for a wedding was “never again.” I don’t think that Paris will be our next destination.

Q: Do you remember what your child thought the first time he/she tried sushi?

A: My children don’t eat anything that isn’t breaded and/or doesn’t involve cheese. So unless someone can come up with a sushi grilled cheese combo – I just don’t think I can answer this question.

Q: Are you celebrating cultural traditions with your family?

A: Well…unless you count doing take out pizza for dinner every Tuesday (HEY – I’m ¼ Italian), then no.

Q: Do you have a funny or memorable story about an international adventure?

A: YES! Where do I start? Oh wait – you mean with the kids. Yeah – no.

Q: Is your child learning another language?

A: My children can barely speak English at this point. But Oliver can count to five in Spanish thanks to all of the TV watching. Yeah Dora!

Q: What are your favorite children’s books that feature images or stories from around the world?

A: Okay – this is a little more in the realm of possibility for us. An all time favorite book in our house is one from my own childhood bookshelf: Come Over to My House written by Theo LeSieg and illustrated by Richard Erdoes. An American boy visits children all over the world and gets to see where and how they live. It’s adorable, surprisingly inoffensive considering that it was written over 40 years ago and has great illustrations and memorable rhyming text.

The truth is – I’m just being snarky. These questions are perfectly reasonable for people who have to travel frequently as a means of visiting family, people who have one child, people who have really well behaved children that are great at entertaining themselves for long periods of time (it could happen), and people who may not travel but do a lot of cultural things within their cities and really make the effort to teach their children about other countries and cultures.

I would like to be this person – but I’m usually such a mess trying to keep up with our daily routine that I’m lucky if I can get everyone to eat one bite of a vegetable. Exotic foods are out of the question. And like I said – air travel with three toddlers is exhausting (for everyone). Small children tend to prefer routine and my kids are perfect examples of that. Sleeping in a new room in a new place translates either to them sleeping in my bed with me or me sleeping in their beds with them. And neither is particularly restful.

But the idea of this is actually very interesting and also motivating. I do want to expose my children to other cultures and encourage them to be inquisitive and curious about how the rest of the world lives. I want them to travel and have those once in a lifetime experiences that I did. I’m not willing to pack them all up for a once in lifetime trip to Beijing right now (that would definitely be “once in a lifetime” since I don’t think any of us would survive the trip). But I can take them to Chinatown. Hey – we used to take Oliver out for dim sum all the time before he decided that he wouldn’t anything that wasn’t covered in melted cheese. So maybe I do have some stories to tell.

I’m challenging myself on this one. I’m gong to come up with a post to submit. Even if it’s not used, I’ll feel more inspired to try new things with my kids and contribute to their illustrious future as citizens of the world. Everyone is invited to join in – I’d love to see the posts you submit. And also feel free to use my meme. It’s not exactly what I had had in mind – but sometimes you have to get out of those same-old same-old patterns and try something different.

Hip Young Girls, Other Mothers and of Course, Mormons

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I’ve had a few pleasant surprises over the past couple of days. All related to other blogs that I read and enjoy regularly. I’ll tell you about them in the order that they occurred.

First of all, I must admit that I didn’t completely adhere to the “no internet activity not related to work” restriction that I placed on myself for Wednesday. No – I’m too addicted. I wrote most of my Wednesday post in the morning when George woke up at FIVE A.M. None of my kids have been known for their good sleeping habits – but it’s been a while since I’ve been up quite that early… Anyway, he wanted out of the cage and would not be ignored. So he played with toys and I played on the computer until the rest of them woke up. Then on my lunch break – I finished the post and visited my bookmarked favorites. Normally I’d say that what someone does on her lunch break is nobody’s business but her own – but one of you actually busted me in comments. So I felt a confession was necessary.

The first pleasant surprise that I had as a result of my addiction to the internet was that I was “quoted” on one of my favorite blogs, Daddy Likey. Daddy Likey is written by a woman in Oregon. I have no idea how old she is, but my guess is that she’s a lot younger than me. She is definitely less suburban than me. I was going to say “hipper than me” or “cooler than me,” but that makes me sound like a thirty-something suburban mom – oh wait I AM a thirty-something suburban mom…So she’s definitely hipper AND cooler than me. I was thinking of how to describe her site – but here’s a better idea. Her profile says, “Daddy Likey is a blog about fashion. But sometimes I write haiku about chlamydia.” How can you not want to read that? And if you’re not sold yet, she lists her interests as “giant aviators, as in sunglasses – not large pilots.” Anyway, I just randomly commented on something she wrote and she posted it as “comment of the week.” Huge honor – and kind of makes me feel little more hip and/or cool.

Then I saw that one of my new AllMediocre friends, But Why Mommy gave me this little blogging award:

I’m not entirely sure what “Brillante Weblog – Premio-2008” means, but I’m taking it as a compliment and a warm welcome to the AllMediocre group. But Why Mommy is one of the many blogs created by women who once spent their day dealing with difficult clients at work, and now spend their day dealing with even more difficult clients at home (actually, “boss” may be a more accurate label than “client”). One thing I like about this mom blogger is that she’s creative and keeps an Etsy storefront called Renee Designs. I love that she makes time to keep something for herself (a topic that I’d like to write about on another day) even though her official job is taking care of her family.

The rules of this award are that you are supposed to:

  1. Put the logo on your blog,
  2. Add a link to the person who nominated you,
  3. Nominate 7 more bloggers.

This is a little challenging since I have no idea if anyone I nominate has already gotten one of these…kind of like chain letters you know. Here is my list (in no particular order):

Anastasia from The Gift. I love that she has challenged herself to write every day no matter how uninspired she feels. As a working mother who also puts 100% of herself into the time she spends with her children, she has very little me time. I’m so glad that she chooses to spend that time writing “for me.”

Tricia from Reston Mom. The research and thought that she puts into parenting and then writing about parenting can be a little intimidating sometimes. One would think that she’s perfect (which to me is just another word for boring). But as her neighbor, I know that she’s a lovely person AND not afraid to put her flaws on display. I think she’s now up to her fifth post of Mama Exposed (although I think my favorite was when she posted pictures of the mildew in her shower – now THAT I can relate to).

Linda from Monkey Business. Linda happens to be another neighbor of mine. She is a stay at home mom/writer who probably uses every second of her free time writing for Monkey Business, DC Metro Moms and various other parenting-related websites and magazines. She is also working on a book about raising children close in age (her kids are not quite 16 months apart). As a mother of three kids close in age (all born within 1.5 years), I really want LInda to publish that book soon…

Ainsley from Chattahoochee Mama. I just love Ainsley. She was another neighbor (I know – enough with the neighbors already – I promise, this is the last one), but recently moved to Atlanta. Ainsley is yet another Super Mom and she is my inspiration for healthier living and taking time to enjoy the moment. She posts numerous pictures of everyday life with her kids, all expressing her joy in being a mother – a feeling that we tend to forget when we’re rushing from one responsibility to the next. Thanks for the daily reminder Ainsley.

Kacy from Everyday I Write the Book. HELLO! How could I not include this woman. She makes me laugh every day. And while I have never met her in person, I can just tell that she’s a good friend, a great mom and that crazy lady who always keeps things interesting. Oh – and she’s Mormon. As one of my recent commenters said, “Kacy isn’t a Jack-Mormon? Oh my garsh, who’d a thunk it?” (Having spent most of my life on the East Coast, I’m not familiar with this accent allusion. I think it must be a Utah thing, and I’m fairly certain that it’s very funny.)

Anna from An Inch of Gray. I discovered Anna’s blog a few months ago, and I just love her writing. The post that made me want to read more was a beautiful tribute to her mother. I know for a fact that if Anna lived next door, she would be one of my best friends. She’s funny and thoughtful and not afraid to open her heart to strangers. And isn’t that the foundation of this whole blogging thing?

Betsy, Leslie and Sondra from Little Miss Know-It-Alls. I have been lurking this blog for a while. It’s written by three friends, and their relationship and loyalty appeals to me just as much as their funny stories. Betsy in particular always makes me laugh (example). It’s obvious that they are just blogging for themselves and for their friends and family – but I think even random strangers like me can get a kick out of the Know-It-Alls.

Whew! This is getting to be a really long post! So I will keep it short on this last surprise that made my day. If you’ve been reading my blog this week, you will have noticed that I was busted by the Mormons after writing a post about how funny they are (you know – since it was “news to me”). As I don’t personally know anyone that is Mormon, and I’ve been assuming that the five people who read my blog are friends and family in the same boat, it didn’t occur to me that I might possibly offend anyone. Apparently I wasn’t the stealth lurker that I thought I was and I actually commented on some blogs I like that happen to be written by Mormons. And that’s how they found me…and let me know that my anonymity was an illusion.

Luckily, Kacy and her friends understood that I was fully making fun of myself, and have been incredibly gracious about it. In fact – I think I got more hits from Provo that day than any other city. So they even sent me some readers. Here is the exciting part though, they’ve actually extended an invitation to me to write a guest post for Light Refreshments Served. I’m very honored by this since I admire all of the contributing writers and enjoy their posts daily. Though what to write is a bit of a dilemma since this blog has a real community tone and features some more serious discussion along with the funny writing that initially caught my attention. No one knows me, I can’t tell funny stories about Mormon-related topics and I was informed that I can’t be “racy.” It will hard not to come across as frivolous and somewhat random if I just tell a funny story that has nothing to do with the usual topics. And although I’ve never thought that I relied too much on curse words or alcohol and coffee references in my own story telling, for some reason, I’m feeling a little limited… I’ll have to give it some thought – let me know if you have any suggestions.