Scream Queen

Watch out Jamie Lee Curtis, Caitlynn is on her way to becoming the Scream Queen.

We loved your screaming in the Halloween movies. Here's a clip (the best screams are at the beginning).

But Caitlynn isn't running from Michael Myers (well, not yet at least). No, she's running scared of spiders. Any type of spiders - bigs ones, little ones, ones that talk -- scare her. Since we live in a rural area now, it seems our small house is overrun by these 8-legged creatures. I don't mind them and neither does Miles, but Caitlynn screams holy terror each time she sees one, which is nearly every day. I like them because they eat flies and bugs and they keep Miles entertained. I feel like they're on my side because I hate bugs. (I don't scream when I see bugs, but maybe I should start.)

So my role as mother has just been expanded to include "spider eliminator" and "Caitlynn calmer-downer" and even "explaining to the neighbors that it's a Daddy Long Legs causing the awful screaming not me." 

I'm glad to be of service.

Free Blog Counter

Miles-ism of the day

Miles walked out of the bathroom the other day and announced:
"I need to shave my mustache."

No, he is not a member of Facial Hair Club for Toddlers.

He had spent the better part of an hour playing the bathroom sink and probably looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe he noticed a stubble forming under his nose. Who knows. 

I'm not a fan of facial hair, so it's a good thing he wants to shave. Not that I'm encouraging a 4-year-old to shave or anything...

Free Blog Counter

Cha-ching

Teaching kids the value of money is one tough task. Caitlynn is slowly catching on. She has managed to save $10 in coins and a $5 bill. She has money in a bank account (that's where b-day and holiday money goes). In much the same way that Mr. Crabs counts every nickle and penny and quarter and dollar, Caitlynn sees fit to count her money every single day. She watches it like a hawk. Should Miles even step within 5 feet of her piggy bank, an alarm goes off, which is usually the sound of Caitlynn's shrieks. I'm not sure what she is saving up for (it's probably something pink or American Girl-ish). The money in the bank is something she is forbidden to touch until she reaches college. 

The road to Caitlynn hoarding her money meant me saying "No. You don't need more Barbie clothes," on several occasions. Every time she received money, she wanted to spend it - candy, Barbie Dolls, toys. We obliged every once in awhile but mostly just hid the money and stashed it away. Then she found her little money stash and now she acts like a squirrel hoping her little pile of nuts keeps growing. And this is a good thing...

So, now we are faced with the same task with Miles. He has a bank account, too, and the same rules apply. You touch it, you die. But he's willing to spend the money in the bank to buy movies off iTunes. The other day Miles and I had an argument about the movies he wanted to buy.

Miles: Mama, buy the Garfield movie. 

Mama: No. You already have a Garfield movie.

Miles: Buy the other Garfield movie. 

Mama: No.

Miles: Do we have to go to the movie store to get it?

Mama: No. It's on iTunes, but I'm not buying it.

Miles: You can use my money. 

Mama: No. Keep your money.

Miles: USE MY MONEY!

Mama: NO! You keep your filthy, dirty money. I don't want it! It's for school anyways.

Miles: I don't want to go to school. I want Garfield. 

Mama: NO. 

If this is any indication, I have my work cut out for me with my boy. Caitlynn wasn't so tough. Once she learned how to count coins, she was very willing to hold on to them. Maybe it's time I teach him how to count money. He barely knows how to count to 20 but he knows how to purchase movies off iTunes. (I think he's holding out on me.) Why can't iTunes teach him how to count? Wait. That would probably cost me $1.99 for each number. Nevermind. I'll go about this old-fashioned way. He can watch Dora. 

Free Blog Counter

Leave me alone

Alone time. We all need it. I could use some like RIGHT NOW, but I can't seem to go to the bathroom, shower, read, or write this blog without a child coming and saying, "Mama! Mama? I want..." They don't bother Joe as much as they do me. He's pretty much left alone. That's not to say they don't get under his skin and annoy the crap out of him, but at least he can use the bathroom in relative silence.

My mom suffered this fate when my brothers and I were young. It must be a mom-child thing. It seemed that every time Mom took a bath, we all needed something from her. Even the dog would barge into the bathroom looking for a place to lay down (it was a huge bathroom - big enough to fit the whole family; I'm not kidding). My poor mother, she never had any privacy.

Lately, however, Caitlynn has been craving her own alone time. She needs her space, I presume, much like I do. I even overheard her tell Miles that she needed "alone time." Ha. I wonder where she heard that. A few days later, Miles was complaining about having his own space and shoved Caitlynn out of the computer room so he could watch Night at the Museum by himself. It's probably funnier if you watch it alone.

I let it be known that there are times of the day that I don't want to be bothered. Like at 7:00 am, 12:00pm, 1:00pm, 4:00 pm, 8:00 pm, and 10:00 pm. Or it could be put easily as: Between the hours of 7:00 am and 10:00 pm I don't want to be bothered. I need my alone time. These are the hours of day when I like to focus on myself. TV helps me achieve this act of selfishness since it's the number one babysitter in the house. Focus. Focus on the ball. Focus on Marcy. Focus. Caitlynn and Miles, focus on the TV.

But alas, TV cannot answer issues raised by children and my sacred "me" time is interrupted by:

Mama! Mama! I need... I want... Can you get me... I have a boo-boo... The cat scratched me... Miles is said a bad word...

They always need something. Food. Water. Shelter. Food. Milk. Food. Band-Aids. Help cutting up food. Help pouring the milk. Help cooking the food. Help wiping their butts (Miles). 

So my "me" time gets whittled down to 9:45 pm to 10:00 pm. It's enough. 15 minutes is enough. Really. I'm ok.

Really. 

Alone time is overrated anyway. 

This weird tick I've developed will go away.

Eventually. It should. 

I hope. 

Free Blog Counter

What kind of parent are you?

According to T-Mobile, I'm a Terrific Teach parent. I guess this is better than being Roseanne Barr.

Free Blog Counter

Make. It. Stop.

Oh no. No no no no no no. NO! Please. Anything BUT this. Anything. I'll listen to the Jonas Brothers. I'll stop making fun of them. For 5 minutes. I'll even try listening to Miley Cyrus (or is it Hannah Montana. I'm so confused). I'll try it. Once. But make this stop. 

Make. It. Stop. 

Please.

Thanks to McDonalds (schmucks), we now have one of these CDs in our possession and we HAD to listen to the whole CD of 5 excrutiating songs in the car. That little CD will mysteriously disappear. I guarantee it.

My mind literally melted and now my ears are ringing due to high pitched screaming from the CD. I'm surprised I was able to drive after listening to this.

Give me some good music please. Something worth listening to. You know, like the actual songs sung by the actual artists. Green Day? U2? Pink. I'll listen to Pink. Yeah. She's good. Madonna. Oh, heck yes. Madonna, I love you. Ahem. 

Like I said, anything. I'll even listen to this:

Free Blog Counter

Happy Birthday to Caitlynn

Today, my little girl turns 8.

She requested an American Girl doll for her birthday. I tried, really tried, to talk her out of this. I just don't understand the fascination with dolls. I didn't play with dolls except for Barbies. Baby dolls? Other dolls? Boring. Who wants to take care of a fake baby, anyway?

But these American Girl Dolls are not your typical baby doll. First off, they are really expensive. Caitlynn under explicit instructions to not destroy this toy. My kids are hard on their toys and books, which is why I don't like spending a lot of money on their Christmas and birthday gifts. But this time, Caitlynn begged, pleaded, and groveled to get an American Girl Doll. She visits their site every single day. She has picked out all sorts of things to buy because these dolls come with their own line of accessories. Who knew that dolls needed beds and dressing tables. Wait! I don't have a dressing table. Can I get one, too? I'm guessing for the next couple of Christmas' all she's going to want is American Girl stuff. Grandparents, you've been warned. 

Well, at least she didn't Hannah Montana stuff or Bratz dolls. 

Happy #8 Miss Caty. 

Free Blog Counter

When cartoons get it wrong, very wrong

What?! Steer and bulls have pink utters?! Are pigs flying now? Is the world upside down again? Is this the Twilight Zone?

This is an issue I've had for quite some time now ever since I saw the movie, Back in the Barnyard. If you have kids, you have to watch kid movies. It's the rule. I think I even saw it etched on the 10 commandment tablet. It came in at number 11. Thou shalt watch endless hours of kids movies to keep thine children quiet.

Moving on...

The boy "cow" in the movie and on the Nickelodeon cartoon based on the movie has utters. I'm not the smartest person on the block (2nd smartest) but I do know that steer and bulls don't have utters. I've seen steer up close, thanks to my sister-in-law's family. Of course, I didn't spend a long time studying the steer, but I'm sure I would have noticed utters. I'm sure of it. I've seen cows up close, too and they have utters like they're supposed to. 

Why does this bother me? Well, now I have to tell my kids why the cartoon is wrong. Otis, the male "cow," is not supposed to look like that. He isn't supposed to be talking either but I'll let that one go. Maybe he's supposed to be dressed in "drag" and it's a little joke among the artists. Bugs Bunny dressed in drag a few times. That was funny for awhile. I like jokes and pranks. But something tells me, the artists got it wrong because they failed anatomy class.

Now I actually have to parent and teach my kids about cow vs. bull (or steer). While Joe was gone on a trip last week, Miles, Caitlynn, and I had a long discussion about boys vs. girls. He's 4 and is learning the difference between the two. He's starting to understand that boys and girls have, you know, different plumbing. I could have pointed out other differences like boys are supposed to grow up to be doctors and scientists and girls are supposed to be housewives, nurses, and teachers. Of course, that would have set the clock back 75 years and I didn't want to be responsible for that. 

So, bulls have utters now and the world is upside down.

Thanks, Hollywood, for adding more crap to my parenting list. As if this shit wasn't hard enough...

Free Blog Counter

Life's little luxuries

I read a lot of articles online on many different sites. Usually after reading an article, I check out the comment section just see what other readers had to say. Sometimes readers contribute thoughtful counter-arguments or offer new insight to the article, which is always pleasant to see. That means they are using the comment section correctly, in my opinion. 

But then there are times when people just go off the handle and say mean-spirited things that don't add any substance. One such place to see these types of comments is the Chicago Tribune's site. I don't know what it is about that site but the commenters on there are rude, mean, and down-right nasty. 

However, I'm not here to talk in-depth about the Chicago Tribune and their readers' lack of filter, I want to address a comment I saw on an article regarding "Necessities vs. Luxuries." Pew Research did a study about how America's view everyday conveniences like high-speed internet, cable TV, and common household appliances like microwaves and dishwashers. 

I know what I view as a luxury and as a necessity. High-speed internet is a necessity. Ever try using dial-up nowadays? Good luck with that. Microwaves are a luxury. I can easily do without one since ours is only used to warm up leftovers. Dishwashers, on the other hand, are both a necessity and a luxury. You don't really realize how much you want one until you're stuck washing dishes by hand in small, cramped kitchen. Day in day out. Dishes piling up everywhere. Makes you go a little insane. No wonder there's such a high turnover rate for dishwashers at restaurants. 

The article was just reporting the facts of the research. Fine. Then I read the comments. A woman commented that (I'm totally paraphrasing here) for single people and stay-at-home-moms, dishwashers and clothes dryers are not necessities but luxuries. Her point being, we have more time to devote to "chores" than say, working mothers. 

Oh really? 

I've been a working mom and I will probably be a working mom again in the future. At the moment, I am a stay-at-home-mom who writes. (See? Writing right now. What are the kids doing? I don't know. Probably something they shouldn't.) But to think that I have more time to devote to dishes and laundry just because I stay at home does not mean that I want to wash dishes by hand or hang the clothes out on the line or that I have more time for chores. Frankly, I spend most of my day trying to keep my kids from destroying every piece of furniture we have and then stopping them from killing each other. What little time I have left is spent painting my nails and eating bonbons. You know, I need "me" time, too. 

I want a dishwasher, not because it's a luxury but because it's a helpful appliance in getting dried up ketchup off plates. The more help I can get from an electrical appliance, the happier mom I am. 

We have a dishwasher, a portable one that is sitting in our shed. It doesn't fit in our small, cramped kitchen, much to my dismay. Every time that I stand at the sink and wash the crusty dishes that I've neglected for too long, I daydream. I don't daydream about Brad Pitt. Too easy. No, I daydream that my dishwasher would fit nicely in our kitchen and then I could go sit down for a moment to catch my breath and then daydream about Mr. Pitt. A daydream within a daydream. 

Free Blog Counter

200 and counting...

I made it to 200 posts. Wow. I didn't know I could hold a commitment this long (that's for Joe). 

Now that I'm 200 posts in, what's in store for this little-blog-that-could? I don't know. More stories, I presume. Aside from a few odd incidents where Miles acts like our cat, the kids been pretty uneventful. My kids are now boring (gasp!). What happened? Each day is treated with the same with the same silly crap. Same old, same old. Ugh. When did they become middle-aged?

At one point, Caitlynn was doing and saying things just to get mentioned here on the blog. I thought that I had created a monster with this whole blog thing. She has since stopped acting weird but now I want her to. I need material. 

Perhaps the issue is things were kind of un-funny around here for a couple of weeks due to medical problems. Joe has Multiple Sclerosis and he had a relapse. He's ok as long as he does his physical therapy and takes his meds. I had a medical issue, as well, involving my heart. Just have to keep it monitored, that's all. What I realized is that kids notice everything. We made the decision to be honest with them about medical issues. I think they appreciate honesty.

But now things are back to normal health-wise (or I should say, normal for us). As summer rolls in, I'm sure crazy little antics will ensue. 

Happy Friday.

Free Blog Counter

Lazy Boy

A strange phenomenon occurred on Tuesday, May 12 in a small household in Montana. It appears a 4-year-old boy's arms really can't pick up the toys strewn all over the floor. 

His mother reported this strange occurrence to the family medicine man who informed her that the boy was suffering from lazy-boy-itis making his arms incapable of picking up toys. 

"No wonder. This makes sense now. Every time I asked him if his arms were broken, he always said yes.  I had no idea such a disease existed," the mother of two said. Indeed, this disease strikes kids every day around the world and has been around for centuries. 

It happens when a mother nags her child about cleaning up toys and the child then refusing to comply to the demands of the frazzled mother. The longer the mother nags, the worse it gets. The child's arms become inoperable, meaning they can't actually pick up toys or whatever mess they made earlier in the day. Parents don't realize their child suffers from such a malady until they ask, "Are your arms broken?" Thinking that the arms are perfectly fine the parent (most of the time it's a mother) adds a sarcastic tone to her voice. If the child has "broken" arms, he just says, "Yes. My arms don't work." 

There are a few options for treatment. If your child suffers from lazy-boy-itis or lazy-girl-itis (or lazy-husband-itis), first threaten amputation and seek a kitchen knife. The basic threat of cutting off the "broken" arm will spur the lazy disease to make the arms work. Another option is to throw all the toys away in front of the child with the inoperable arms. Again, this helps get the "broken" arms get moving again.

The lazy-itis syndrome also attacks legs, so beware of any symptoms associated with this area. The same treatments used for the arms can be used for the legs. 

For more information regarding this disease, please visit your local medicine man or woman. 

Free Blog Counter

A Day in the Life of...

...Miles. Today, I'm going to follow Miles around the house. In his own words...

It's bright in here. Is it morning? Mama? Is it morning? Morning came awfully fast. I was sleeping at night and now it's morning! Woo-hoo! Time to head into the computer room. I have to watch Scooby Doo on Netflix. He's so funny. Scooby Doo. I like him. He makes me laugh. MAMAMAMAMAMAMAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TURN ON THE COMPUTER!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where is she? Where is my Mama? I want to watch Scooby Doo. I want to watch him NOW! Not yesterday. NOW. I'll go wake her up. She looks so peaceful. Should I wake her up? AHHHH! She scared me. She wasn't sleeping after all. I think I have go pee-pee now. 

Mama set up Scooby Doo for me on Netflix. She's so great. I wonder if she'll make me breakfast. I want eggs. No, I want yogurt. No. Peaches. I want peaches. Peaches and oreo cookies. Yeah, that sounds good. I think I can go find my own food. I'll pull the chair up to the cupboard and see if I can reach in there to get the peaches and Oreos. What? No oreos? Oh, I forgot, those are only for special occasions like when Daddy goes to the grocery store. Peaches will do. Mmmmm...

Time for my exercises. Jump, jump, jump, jump on the couch. Jumping on the couch is fun. Mama hates it but I love it. I like to throw all the cushions on the floor and then jump some more. Jump. Now it's time to run. I'm fast. See how fast I am as I run down the hallway. Did you see me? I ran really fast. So fast you couldn't see me. 

Oh there's my sister. She's crazy. She controls the TV, kind of like Mama. What is it with girls and the remote? Maybe it's just girls in my house.

Outside. Gotta play outside. Rocks. I see rocks and bugs! I think I'll collect some rocks for my room. We have a lot of red rocks here. Ooooo....more bugs! MAMAMAMAMAMAAAAAAAA! THERE ARE BUGS OUT HERE! She doesn't care. I guess if you've seen one, you've seen them all. Caitlynn hates bugs. She screams like a girl.

Time for bed. The announcement was made. Oh that Mama is so funny with her announcements. Like I'm going to listen. I need to JUMP...jump...JUMP...some more on the couch. I can't get enough of that. It's also that time of the evening when I scream and cry for no good reason. Here I go. I love to push Mama's buttons. WAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel so much better now. Glad I got that off my chest. I even threw some toys for added effect. Mama doesn't look happy. Oh well. Sorry, Mama.  

Time for bed. 

Sleep. 

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Free Blog Counter

Facebook bites

Facebook, we're through. I'm so done with you. It's soooooo over between you and I. Sooooo over. 

It's not like I'm addicted to you or anything. I only check my facebook page like once every 2 days or so. I can quit you. I have other social outlets like actually talking to people. You know, real human beings. Ok. I know my friends on Facebook are real humans. But you aren't. Plus, my friends know where to find me. I think. I moved recently and I'm really bad about updating everyone with my address. If they need to know where I live, they can email me. No phone calls please. I'm not a talker. A writer, yes. Talker, no.

Why am I breaking up with you Facebook? I took one of those silly quizzes. Why do I put myself through this torture? Why do I fall for these quizzes? I've taken a few to see who I really am in the eyes of Facebook. 

So far it's been determined that I'm:

Rowlf the dog (Which Muppet are you?)

Snow White (What Disney Princess are you?)

Falstaff (Which Shakespearean character would you be?)

Rowlf the dog I can relate to. As a big Muppets fan, Rowlf is one of my favorite characters. However, I don't eat Alpo or Beggin Strips. 

Snow White? When have I ever cleaned up a house where 7 little men live? When have I ever fallen for the bad-apple-from-a-creepy-old-witch routine? Joe did not kiss me to wake me out of my slumber. My alarm does that. 

Falstaff? I'm assuming that not everyone has read Shakespeare. Fine. I was an English major which meant taking one Shakespearean course. I like watching Shakespeare. Reading, not so much. Too many words. Who is Falstaff? Appearing in 3 plays - Henry IV part 1, Henry IV part 2, and the Merry Wives of Windsor, Falstaff is a character that you're either supposed to laugh at or with. He's a bit of a joke or a jokester. Nice. 

Fine. I'll deal with these results. But then I took the "Which TV Mom are you?" quiz. Turns out I'm Roseanne Conner (you know, Roseanne Barr). Why couldn't I be Mrs. Cleaver or Mrs. Huxtable?

Not funny, Facebook. Not funny at all. You had your fun with the other quizzes. This is it. I'm done. 

But not before I take the "How much of an OHIOan are you?" quiz. 

Free Blog Counter

I should be making how much?

According to Salary.com, I should be making about 100,000 per year as a mother, a stay-at-home mom at that. 

I get a chance each day to sit down and change the TV channel to watch the news. I guess this can be considered my "smoke break," even though I don't smoke. I may not watch the news during its time slot but that's what DVR is for, right? I have to make the announcement early in the day -- "Mama will be watching the news and possibly a TV show -- Lost on Wednesdays, The Office and 30 Rock on Thursdays. Got it? Mama is changing the channel." 

One night last week, NBC ran a story about how much mothers would make if they were paid for their work. It's a senseless report, because it doesn't really matter. I'm never going to see that money. I was thinking about putting out a tip jar to see if I could generate some income. I'm sure Miles would give $500 in Monopoly money. I could buy Boardwalk - always a smart buy.

In reality, all I get to show for it is one day out of the year that's devoted to me, a mother. That needs to be put on a t-shirt. 

"I survive motherhood each day and I all I have to show for it is this lousy t-shirt and Mother's Day."

So, Happy Mother's Day to all the mommies, mamas, mothers, and moms out there. May you find some peace and quiet today and don't spend your Monopoly money all in one place. 

Free Blog Counter

All I want for Mother's Day...

...is a day of quiet.

That's it. Just peace and quiet. I don't need gifts. I have enough stuff.

I really want a day where Caitlynn and Miles:

• don't fight 
  
• clean up their messes
  
• don't whine
  
• don't break or screw up the computer
  

That way I won't have to nag them about the fighting, whining, messes, and the damage done to the computer.

Peace and quiet.

No amount of Bath and Body Works lotion can compete with that.

Free Blog Counter

Can't we all just get along?

Welcome to the daily fighting match between Crazy Eyes Caty and Muscle Man Miles. 

In one corner, standing just over 3 feet tall and weighing in at 50 pounds full of brute force is Muscle Man Miles. His fighting techniques include scratching, biting, and punching as hard as he can. He also tends to cry and scream like a girl but we shouldn't mention that. 

In the other corner weighing in at 65 pounds and towering over Muscle Man Miles by about a foot is Crazy Eyes Caty. Watch out for her super-sonic screeches, punches, and below the belt kicks. 

I think this will be the fight of the century or perhaps the day, whichever. What's the prize for the winner? Control over the computer. Ooooo. This should be good. 

With ninja-like prowess, Caty has taken control over the computer and has managed to navigate her way to Barbie.com where she will no doubt play a game and listen to country-sounding music. Look out! Here comes Miles! He looks mad. Really mad. Do I see smoke coming out of his ears? I thought that only happened in cartoons. Wow. Amazing. Are we recording?

He's going in for the first move. Ouch. Right on the back. Caty never saw it coming. Look at him go. He's really scratching and hitting like we've never seen before. Caty is holding her ground though. She's refusing to give up control over the seat and the mouse. This is an amazing sight to be seen folks. She has managed to stay put while clicking around Barbie.com and fighting Miles off with her left hand. Who knew she had such coordination.

These two really go at it, don't they. Miles just keeps at it, wanting to get a hold of that mouse and Caty keeps fending him off. You should hear the screaming and crying. It's really loud, almost deafening. The ref should really do something about it.

Oh- wait - there she is. Ref Mama has entered. She looks pissed. Really mad. No smoke coming out of her ears but she has that look. You know what I'm talking about. The look. We've all seen it on our mothers' faces. I shudder each time I picture my mother with the look on her face.

Calmly but sternly she separates Caty and Miles. Miles is still kicking and hitting as Ref Mama pulls him off Caty. I think a compromise is coming this way. Using her super negotiating skills, Ref Mama is on her way to a truce. 

Shhh... an announcement is being made. Let's listen in.

"After intervening in the fight between Crazy Eyes Caty and Muscle Man Miles, we have negotiated a stop to the fight and found a suitable compromise. The fight will now cease and we can go on with our day."

That's it, folks. The kids have stopped fighting thanks to the quick actions of Mama. She stepped in just in time before things got ugly. 

Until tomorrow when Caty and Miles resume fighting, this time over the TV remote. 

Free Blog Counter

Parent Trap

On occasion, I read Parenting's website. I'm not looking for advice, but rather reading stories of other moms. I like humor, but find Parenting to be humor-less. Why can't we laugh at ourselves and at our kids? That's probably why I don't spend too much time on their site. I get bored quickly... Sorry to those who really love their magazine and site. I'm sure I could find it useful but I'd rather read other things online. You know, like other blogs. 

That being said, I read an article about a mother who had 2 boys and was pregnant with a third child (reminds me of my friend Stormy). The author was apprehensive of having a girl. She wanted to have 3 boys because she knows them better. It's funny, really, to have a preference over a certain sex. 

I think we get caught up in girl vs. boy all too often. I'm guilty of this. I prefer female dogs to male dogs. I'd rather have a female cat over a male cat, but I'm happy with our cat, Dexter. When I was pregnant with Miles, I wanted to have another girl because had girl stuff and I knew how to deal with them. Boys were foreign to me, but I got over when I saw my baby boy. 

Which one is better though? Each sex has its idiosyncrasies and it even prompted a book Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. Well... I'm not a doctor anything important, but I am a mom of one girl and one boy. Here's why each are great in their own right and why no parent should be scared, frightened, or freaked out about having either one. 

Girls:

• Girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice.
  
• Not all girls are girlie and play with Barbies. Only 90% do. My little girl still likes to play in the mud with her Barbies while wearing a pink or purple dress. So, girls can like mud and Barbies. That's how mud wrestling started. Brothers watching sisters play with Barbies in the mud. 
  
• Girls are smarter than boys. Really, we are. Not that I'm biased or anything.
  
• Girls have better clothes. Just go into Gymboree and you'll see what I mean. Better accessories too. 
  
• Some girls can be funny. Not that boys will recognize this...
  
• Outdoor sports aren't just for boys. Girls like soccer, softball/baseball, and other sports just as much as boys. 
  
• Potty training is usually easier with females. Usually. Not always. Most of the time. On sunny days. 

Boys:

• Boys are full of energy. Put one in a giant hamster wheel and you can generate electricity for your neighborhood. Energy crisis solved. 
  
• Boys have "cool" clothes -- skater shirts, surf shirts, football and baseball jerseys.
  
• When a boy gets dirty, it's just par for the course. 
  
• For some reason, parents of teen boys don't worry as much. Why is this???
  
• Some boys actually like to read, color, and paint. Miles is in this group.
  
• Most boys are funny. They are busy impressing girls.
  
• Boys keeps you busy. They are always in something -- rummaging through cupboards looking for food, standing with the refrigerator open looking for food, dumping out their toy boxes looking for food - toys, looking for toys. 

So, really it doesn't matter which sex you have. Both have their up-sides (and down-sides but I'm trying to stay positive here). 

If you have anything to add to my lists, feel free to share. Positive things, folks. 

Free Blog Counter

World Laughter Day!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ahem.

It's World Laughter Day!!!

Got a joke to share? Let me know... I need a good laugh.

Need a chuckle yourself? Visit these blogs that are always good for a smile.

The Brain Twinkey Zone

The Nether Region of the Earth II

Candid Carrie

Outnumbered

I'm sure there are other blogs that are funny. Post them in the comments section...

Have a good day laughing at your boss or spouse or kids. 

Free Blog Counter

The Benefits of Child Labor

Back when I was Caitlynn's age, my mom had me doing small chores around the house. Eventually, things progressed and I was doing a bunch of flippin chores around the house --hanging laundry out on the line (b/c we never used our dryer -- only on rare occasions), loading and unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming, dusting, cleaning the bathroom, folding the laundry, washing windows, weeding the garden. Geez Louise. Can't a girl get a break? I'm still tired from all the work I had to do in order keep my room at home. I need a nap now.

The good thing about all this? Mom never made me clean my room. I could have the messiest, nastiest room ever if I wanted. She didn't care. Just keep the door closed. 

Even though I detested the chores I had to do, I find that Caitlynn and Miles actually like cleaning. They like to help out. What happened to their DNA? Should I have them tested to see if they are really mine? You know, looking like me isn't proof enough. I need to know for sure...

Fine. They're mine. 

But they still love to clean. Miles loves to take out the trash. He asks to do it. What?? Then there the issue with recycling. Around here we have to remove all labels off glass and plastic bottles. This can be a big pain the ass, let me tell you, but Miles wants to help out. It's so much fun. Hours of enjoyment.

Caitlynn loves to wipe things off. Give her a sponge and she's off cleaning the bathroom. Give her the Swiffer thing and she'll clean the floor. Need the windows cleaned? Armed with Windex and a towel, Miss Caitlynn is one happy little clam. Wax on, Wax off...

This is good news for me, because I still loathe cleaning. I do it, of course, because I don't like an icky house. I see now that I can use my kids more often. My own child labor, just like what my mom had with me. I like how things never change.

I'm wondering, though, could I create a cleaning service where Miles and Caitlynn are the Merry Maids? Move over ladies, the kids have arrived. 

Free Blog Counter