Things That Make Me Go “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Since it is the season of ghosts, here’s a little video for you:

Sorry. I had to. It’s Halloween law.

I love Halloween. Plain and simple. First, there’s the candy. Even adults sometimes need a special excuse to gorge themselves on fun size Butterfingers and Snickers. And there’s the dressing up. Halloween is by the far the best reason to slather on the face paint. Finally, there’s the scary movies. Though I can always enjoy a good horror flick any time of the year, pumpkin scented air somehow heightens the cathartic fear I crave.

My husband, on the other hand, hates Halloween for all the above reasons, except the candy. He will swipe a Kit Kat from a trick-or-treating stash faster than you can say “smell my feet.” But he loathes dressing up, so the fact that I have gotten him to do it so many times proves the omnipotence of my womanly wiles. And scary movies? Forget about it. He can’t even watch a commercial for Ghost Hunters. He probably won’t even dare to read this post based on the title. He so wouldn’t survive a zombie apocalypse. I, however, will have my vast knowledge of survival skills, thanks to The Walking Dead.

To me, it’s all in fun. As far as I’m concerned, there are things much scarier than Halloween:

1. The junior girls’ clothing department in most stores. (Oh, the horror!)

justice swimwear
Don’t go into the bargain basement! The evil hoochie will suck out all your dignity!

2. Being stranded anywhere cold. Or just standing in the cold. Or getting out of bed on a cold morning. Or just thinking about being cold. (Now I’m freaking myself out.)

glacier
He is no doubt shooting the scariest movie I could ever see. This just looks horrific. Quick, someone show me a picture of a beach! (photo from http://www.events.nationalgeographic.com)

3. Finding the perfect dress for an out-of-town wedding, traveling to the destination, and then realizing your forgot your Spanx. (I had to cover my eyes for that one.)

dress without spanx
We are pushing the envelope of horror here, folks. It’s worse than a slasher film. (photo from http://www.washingtonpost.com

4. Thinking your kid had an after-school activity only to get a call that she has been sitting in the parking lot waiting for you to pick her up…and sobbing. (Gasp!)

sad boy
Nightmare in the Carpool Lane (photo from dipity.com)

5. Over-zealous salespeople at mall kiosks jumping out of nowhere. (No, please! I don’t have a minute to spare! If you let me go I won’t tell anyone! Please, I have children!)

mall kiosks
Look at ’em. Just stalking their prey like Jaws. Watch your appendages or they may end up the victims of sneak attack massages or covered in alien lotions.

6. The guy behind the counter at Qdoba who has absolutely no patience for me deciding which kind of salsa, beans, and cheeses I want adorning my burrito. (My heart is racing with suspenseful, impending doom.)

soup nazi
NO TACOS FOR YOU!

Here’s hoping you only encounter ghouls and goblins, and not something worse. Happy Halloween!

A Re-Gift to My Dad

red forman that 70's showToday my dad turns sixty years old. Over the years, I have drawn comparisons of him to many different people. A slave driver. A jail warden. The big, giant, scary, fire and brimstone floating wizard head in The Wizard of Oz. Okay, okay…I kid. But he does do a spot-on impersonation of my Great Aunt Ginny eating. And he was calling the majority of the world’s Continue reading “A Re-Gift to My Dad”

Parkour, Anyone?

Have you ever heard of parkour?

A few weeks ago, my husband and I took our kids to Elephant Rocks State Park, which is pretty much one of the coolest places on earth. The park consists of 1500 million-year-old granite that has been worn away to create giant boulders. Aside from being absolutely breathtaking, the park is a wonderland of rocky mazes to run and climb about. Naturally, it was also the perfect place to teach our children about the art of parkour.

I may be a few years behind on the phenomenon (which is my typical time frame for picking up on fads), but the only reason I came to know about parkour was because of a television show (which is my typical source for picking up on just about anything). Some of you may remember an episode of The Office that involved Michael, Dwight, and Andy displaying their smooth parkour moves around Dunder Mifflin. Well, I just don’t think I could have lived with myself if, while at Elephant Rocks, I didn’t have my kids do their impression of The Office doing their impression of parkour.

So without further ado, I will let these videos…in a particular order, from real parkour to, um, least real parkour… do the talking.

Actual Parkour

The Office Parkour

Grace’s and Michael’s Parkour

Me and Debbie Gibson: Separated At Birth?

At our house, we like to have music playing during dinner. Seeing as how we are not the kind of family who “dresses for dinner” (in fact, Michael is usually in some state of undress by dinnertime), we don’t listen to anything refined like Beethoven. One is more likely apt to hear Dave Matthews Band, O.A.R., the bluesy incarnation of John Mayer, maybe Foo Fighters every now and again; and if I’m lucky, my husband will throw me a bone and play one of The Monkees albums. But only if I’m lucky.

Last night the ipod landed on my Debbie Gibson playlist. (Laugh at my musical preferences if you will, but don’t pretend you didn’t just let out a barely audible “awww yeeaahh” and mindlessly sing, “Shake your love. I just can’t shake your love.”) Grace was particularly happy about this dinner music, having discovered quite the adoration for her mom’s favorite old tunes…which makes me particularly happy that she is jammin’ to Gibson and her squeaky clean pop instead of to some maturing Disney starlet who feels some pressing need to prove she is growing up by also proving she is a hoochi mama sexually empowered.

So there we were, chewing on our pork tenderloin to the bubble gum beats. A little “Only in My Dreams.” Spicing things up with “Red Hot.” Then Debbie slowed things down with “Lost in Your Eyes.” My husband felt the need to add his own commentary that “mommy likes to sing this song to me.” (Which is not true…because singing that song to him would kind of be like cheating. I used to sing that song to my poster of Micky Dolenz in my room. It’s “our song.” Mine and poster Micky Dolenz’s.) So when I failed to flex my not-so-golden pipes in response, Kurt protested, “Aren’t you going to sing to me?”

“You want me to paint a smiley face on my knee, too?” I asked.

Debbie Gibson Out of the Blue AlbumHe stared at me with a blank expression.  Preteen Kurt obviously did NOT have the Out of the Blue cassette tape in his boombox rotation, otherwise he would have understood my clearly witty reference. So I explained what Miss Gibson was wearing on that album cover, ingrained in my memory as being the height of fashion: the ripped, tight-rolled jeans exposing her happy knee, the white Keds, the giant earrings, the striped shirt…

At that very moment, I glanced down at myself and realized I was wearing this:

debbie gibson shirt

And of course, that meant that THIS had to be done:

out of the blue album cover parody

It took me twenty-five years to finally be as cool as Debbie Gibson was in 1987. I think a little Electric Youth perfume would really be the piece de resistance to complete the outfit.

Now let’s get back to the dance party with a little more “Shake Your Love”…while I go tease my bangs.

Dangerous Names

So I kind of have baby on the brain lately. I think I probably made my husband stop breathing with that statement, but mostly it is just because I have quite a few friends who are pregnant right now. Bringing new life into the world is filled with all kinds of land mines of excitement and frustration. And picking a name for your new bundle is just one of them.

You know how some names seem to have certain connotations to them? Come on, don’t act all I don’t judge a book by its cover on me. Whether name profiling is right or wrong (okay, it’s most definitely wrong), you know that if you hear of a kid named Bear Blu that his mother is most likely a celebrity, and also likely to chew up her child’s food for him and then spit it into his mouth.

That is why naming a child can be such a stressful thing. I was reminded of this during a conversation with a friend of mine who is expecting her third child. She and her husband seem to be at a standstill in the naming process, mostly because they have trouble agreeing on names that they both like. I can empathize. My husband and I had very few names we agreed upon. In fact, it’s a good thing we have one girl and one boy, because those two names were pretty much the only ones we both liked. If a baby #3 ever comes along, in short…we’re screwed.

In talking with my friend, I also realized that maybe part of the reason choosing a name is so hard is because men and women seem to have different tastes in names. Especially girl names. Let’s just say that both of our husbands had female name choices that hold those certain connotations I was talking about earlier.

When I became pregnant the first time, Kurt and I each made a list of names we liked, then compared. One of the names that he really liked was Brandy, and when I showed my immediate distaste for it, he just couldn’t understand why. Really? Seriously? What’s the

nuns
Which one is named Sr. Brandy?

first thing that comes to mind when you hear that name? My answer: dancer (and not the kind you pay a lot of money to go see…well, maybe you do. It’s just all in singles). Considering that Kurt has made it definitively clear that his ultimate goal for his daughter is that she enter the convent in her teens, I was flabbergasted that he would want to name her Brandy…and that he didn’t like my suggestion of Mary because it was “too plain.” Helloooooo…Mary practically begs to have a Sister placed before it and something like Frances put after it. Mary is a surefire nun name! But Kurt still defended Brandy, saying he liked the name because of the totally rockin’ song by Looking Glass:

I’ll give it to him. I love the song. However, even the song is about a girl who hangs around sailors all the time and thinks it is okay to stay with a guy who would rather get his jollies out at sea than give her the time of day. Needless to say, we found the very acceptable compromise of Grace. And it’s a good thing, because at the age of five, she once said something on the playground that could have been worrisome otherwise. She was sliding down the fireman’s pole and yelled, “Dad, I have really good pole moves! You should see them sometime. Really. I’m really good on the pole.” Knowing that her name means “blessing and virtue” helped me laugh off this comment. Had her name been Brandy, it could have been very ominous.

So, to all my round-bellied friends and anyone else with a bun in the oven, good luck dodging the land mines of dangerous names.

Milk Diaries by Maggie SingletonOh, and while you’re in the market for all things baby-related, check out a brand new book by my good friend and fantastic writer, Maggie Singleton. It’s called Milk Diaries: A Compilation of Practical, Encouraging Advice from the “Real” Breastfeeding Experts. She has gathered stories from many moms about their experiences breastfeeding, and it is better than any breastfeeding book I ever read as a new mom. And you can also check my own contribution in there, “The Lactation Consultant from the Black Lagoon.” Happy reading…and feeding!

I Like Chicks

No, I haven’t switched teams. And really, it’s just one chick. And he’s a dude.

bob and tom showI’m talking about Chick McGee, member of the Marconi award-winning Bob & Tom Show which airs every weekday morning on over 150 radio stations nationwide…and the person my husband wants to be when he grows up.

No lie. My husband has a pretty serious man crush on Chick, which is possibly only rivaled by his deep affection for Alton Brown of Good Eats on Food Network. I am fairly certain the only reason my husband joined Twitter was so he could follow Chick and be privy to whatever hilarity the radio personality could cram into 140 characters. (I’m not judging, mind you…since I joined Twitter only after realizing Micky Dolenz of The Monkees had joined and was tweeting pictures of himself barbecuing meat.) And while driving through the hometown of The Bob and Tom Show during a road trip last summer, I swear on my life that these words were uttered by my 6’6 tank of a husband as we passed a gas station: “I bet Chick McGee has filled up his car there (sigh).” Okay, I may have used a little creative license adding the (sigh) at the end, but you get the picture.

So given my husband’s somewhat unrequited bromance with Chick, and being someone who understands the endorphin rush of a realized dream, I find what happened a few days ago to be fan-friggin-tastic. I am still not sure exactly how this all materialized, but somehow my husband was chosen to be one of a few “Chickmunks” (as fans of Chick are known) to call in and chat with the one and only Chick on an episode of his new podcast called Off the AirI have yet to hear his fifteen minutes of fame, but when I asked my husband how it went afterwards, he said something along the lines of, “You know how it goes. I had a million things to say and questions to ask, but I mostly just ended up talking to him about Imo’s Pizza.” Oh, I know how it goes. We all remember my encounter with Andy Cohen and my homemade Real Housewives of St. Louis shirt complete with Imo’s Pizza logo. Still, I could tell he was on a high.

So that pretty much covers why my husband likes Chick…but why do I like him, you say? Well first, I think it’s pretty cool that he invited his loyal listeners to call in and be a part of his podcast. It shows the marks of good character, and that he is someone who appreciates the people who appreciate him. That can’t be said of everyone who holds a celebrity status.

chick mcgee
That’s one good lookin’ Chick

Oh, and there’s this other really cool thing he did. HE POSTED A LINK TO THIS VERY BLOG ON HIS WEBSITE! Yeah, that’s what I said. This measly, little, needle in a haystack blog. Granted, I owe a big thanks to my husband for even thinking to give some mad props to his wife’s online ramblings amidst what was surely a riveting discussion about thin crust and provel cheese. But Chick didn’t have to actually check out my blog, and he certainly didn’t have to promote it on his site. (Again, his website is Off the Air with Chick McGee. If you click on the “Listener Link of the Moment” under the Episode #5 – Chick’s Favorite New Comedian entry, it will bring you right back HERE…so I guess you can really just take the shortcut and stay here. OR you can go to his site, download his podcast, and have yourself some giggles. Chick would probably appreciate that.) I’m not sure that most of Chick’s listeners are necessarily part of the “mommy blog” demographic, but hopefully they have wives or girlfriends who are…or are the type of people who still enjoy reading about poop, inappropriate actions, the bird and the bees, and creepy cartoon characters. Wait, maybe it is the same demographic…

So Chick, thanks for giving a girl from the small town of WordPress.com a chance in the big city of ChickMcGee.com. If it turns out to be my big break (at the time of this post, you have driven…wait for it…24 HITS to my blog!), we MIGHT just name our next child after you…or at the very least, our next dog. (Though I am not guaranteeing that there will be a “next” of either of those.) If not, I know my husband will still hang on your every tweet. Either way, we may have to have a Fat Kid Weekend in your honor.

Happy “Cuss Counting.”

**Update: You can now listen to my hubby Kurt on the Chick McGee “Off the Air” Podcast!! You can almost hear how excited he is in his voice! Go to www.chickmcgee.com and download Episode #6:Twitter House Party. Kurt’s call starts at the 30:20 mark. He actually did a pretty good job! And Chick confesses his love for St. Louis. Super cool all around!

The Assault On Dinner Time

This is what happens at my house around 6:05 p.m. just about every day:

Ring Ring

“Hello. This is <insert name> and I am running for <insert office.> Our country…”  Click. 

Seriously? Seriously. This is getting seriously annoying. And it’s only August, people.

family dinnerWhat genius political strategist decided it was a good idea to have their auto-robot callers interrupt the American public’s dinner? These Einsteins are trying to woo my vote by making me listen to their well-rehearsed vapid sound bites when all I want to do is take a bite of my quickly cooling pasta. Didn’t their mothers ever tell them it was rude to call someone at dinner time?

Well, I am going on record to say that I will hereby not vote for any politician who calls and interrupts my dinner. I don’t care what your plan for the economy is or your stance on environmental issues. If you call during dinner time, it is obvious that you hold little respect for the American tradition of families sitting around a table to share the events of their day. It is clear that you put importance of partisan politics and greed over the core values of family, the freedom to assemble, and the right to eat your food while it is hot.

In short, if you call with your campaign slogans at dinner time, then you must hate families…and dinner…and America. So I’m going to vote for the other guy.

Unless he calls me at dinner time, too. Then I’m writing in Nader.

The Role of Christian Grey Will Be Played By…

I did it. Okay, I only half did it. Okay, I only one-quarter did it…because it was about all I could stomach.

fifty shades of greyIn case you are wondering, I’m referring to reading the “why-the-hell-is-this-a-best-selling-book” Fifty Shades of Grey. To be clear, I did not purchase this book for myself; it was purchased for me, without my blessing. And he who shall remain nameless got the mother of all eye rolls when he brought it home for me. At first instead of reading it, I was going to drop it right in the box for Goodwill. Aside from having already heard from practically the whole world how terribly written the book is, I have also never been a fan of the tawdry romance/erotic book genre. But then I decided to give it a shot. I won’t try to make up some excuse as to why I decided to begrudgingly read it (like it would be a good study of the type of writer I do NOT want to be). It’s simple; I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Curiosity killed the cat. In this case, it killed my faith in the publishing industry.

But I gave it the old college try. As I read it each night before bed, my husband would frequently ask, “Have you gotten to any good (wink, wink) parts yet?” My answer was always no. After only getting 128 pages into it (during which I took a brief hiatus to read a rather wonderful book called Room: A Novel by Emma Donoghue), my answer is still no…and yes, technically I have gotten to one of the good (wink, wink) parts. Apparently, my idea of a sensual encounter is quite different from author E.L. James’…mostly because mine involves a man who has respect for women. Call me crazy. I’m sure some people would tell me I need to keep reading. But since I am not in school anymore and don’t have any required reading, one of my requirements for taking the time to finish a book is that it doesn’t take more than 128 pages to get good.

Anyway, enough of my rant. Let’s get to what this post is really about. A few days ago on Facebook, a friend of mine wondered which actor people would cast as the title character of Christian Grey. Regardless of how bad a book might be, I always find that an intriguing question to ponder. And apparently, my friend was not the only one pondering this, for she later posted an article about fifteen actors who could be good choices for Grey. Some of the notables were anything but unexpected: Hugh Jackman, Robert Pattinson, and Chris Hemsworth, among others.

Now, I know you are all just dying to know who I would choose to play Christian Grey. If you have not read the book, Christian is this incredibly wealthy, incredibly gorgeous, incredibly mysterious man (super creative, right?). I won’t say much more about him lest I spoil something for anyone who still plans to read it…and also because after 128 pages, I don’t know that much more about him myself. However, what I do know is that while Christian is supposed to be some very decadent eye candy, I can never picture him as such because I’m too distracted by the corny, forced, clichéd, and overly dramatic dialogue. Such dialogue deserves an actor who can deliver these lines with the appropriate amount of cheese factor. So here are my top choices:

1. David Caruso Not only does he literally have the “copper locks” that make Christian so irresistible, but think of how awesome that CSI theme song intro would sound during hot and heavy love-making scenes.

2. Jeff Goldblum You know this guy would be down with the freaky ways of Christian Grey. Also, to be honest, Christian’s “fixations” kind of creep me out, and I think Goldblum could convey this very successfully.

3. Drake Hogestyn Those of you who are fans of the soap opera Days of Our Lives know Hogestyn better as “John Black.” Hogestyn almost seems like a no-brainer to play Christian Grey. Being a veteran soap actor has provided him with necessary love scene experience,  the ability to deliver banal and insipid dialogue on an expert level, and the deep, breathy voice punctuated by appropriate dramatic pauses I can only assume would be characteristic of Mr. Grey.

4. Nicolas Cage The king of all cheesy actors. End of story.

Or maybe even more entertaining would be Saturday Night Live’s Adam Samberg impersonating Nicolas Cage in the role of Christian Grey. I would probably pay some money for that.

So that is my list. I highly doubt any of my castings will come to fruition, which is a mighty shame. Then again, maybe if they cast someone like Hugh Jackman in the role, there might actually be a case of a movie being better than the book. It can’t be worse. God help us all if it is.

Oprah Finally Leads Me to an “Aha! Moment”

I have decided to change my opinion of Oprah.

Oprah Winfrey
Yes, Oprah, you can finally come to my party.

If you have read my twenty-five random facts about myself that I posted on the “About This Girl” page, you may have seen that I have this hypothetical party to which I invite celebrities I’m infatuated with. To be clear, the “invitation” consists of me simply saying, “I like him/her. He/She can come to my party.” I have no intention of having said party or expecting any of the guests to show up. Anyway, on the guest list was “Oprah’s best friend Gayle (but not Oprah).” It’s not that I didn’t like Oprah; I’m sure she would be a very polite party guest, and I did for a split second think about hiring her to announce each celebrity as they came in (Jooooel McHAAAAAAAALLLLEEE!). But she always just struck me as a bit too much of a name-dropper (I get it, she’s your “good friend Maya Angelou”), and Gayle just always struck me as the kind of girl who would travel to St. Louis for the sole reason of trying some fried chicken at Sweetie Pie’s. I’m down with that.

However, my view of Oprah changed the other day while watching her special, “Oprah Builds a Network” on the OWN channel. We all know Oprah has done countless works of charity, changed people’s lives all over the world, given people cars…you name it, she’s done it. But on that television special, I saw her do something that immediately made me see that she can literally change a life with the simplest of gestures that come from a place of authenticity. And it was all in a few words she said. She had just arrived someplace and came across a little girl, probably around my daughter’s age. I wish I could remember her exact words, but she looked at the girl and said, completely unprompted, something like, “I didn’t know YOU were going to be here! I had no idea I was going to meet such a beautiful little girl with such beautiful freckles. You have just the perfect amount of freckles.”

Simply, it made me smile. All Oprah had to say to that little girl was “nice to meet you,” if even that. Instead, she seized that brief moment to build a little girl’s self-esteem, to let her know she is enough to impress even Oprah exactly the way she is. For the rest of her life, that girl can remember the day Oprah Winfrey told her she was beautiful and that she had the perfect amount of freckles. If that doesn’t warrant giving Oprah an invitation to my party, I don’t know what does. I have certainly invited others for much less…like Pee-Wee Herman for teaching me there is no basement in the Alamo.

Being that I have a young girl of my own who has already felt the sting of low self-esteem, I might be hyper-sensitive to this issue. And so are a lot of other people. The assault against the positive self images of girls is a hot button topic. But as much as I agree that something needs to be done, I am often left feeling that so many of these “true beauty” campaigns seem too contrived, too inauthentic, too commercialized. Are girls really going to start feeling better about themselves because a soap company tells them they are beautiful, buttering them up so they will buy their soap? Maybe instead of making a special point to say the average girl is beautiful like some public service announcement, it just needs to become part of our normal rhetoric. And maybe we should throw in some other even more important attributes, like strong, capable, creative, worthy, and intelligent. Then maybe we can continue to raise generations of girls who will feel empowered enough to pursue the roles they choose, and be confident and proud in the choices they make for themselves, whether they want to be a politician or a stay-at-home mom.

Verily magazine
A new promising fashion magazine for women

Eventually, hopefully, the media will catch up. There ARE media sources out there trying to make a change (check out a new magazine called Verily). And I’m not talking about magazines who use one plus-sized model and then make a big deal about how they are using a plus-sized model because they “want to represent real women.” I don’t get that phrase. Does that implicate the other models as unreal women just because they are skinny? And pointing out that you are doing it in the first place automatically implies an inferiority of the plus-sized model AND the women she represents. Like please make sure you realize we are doing this to make you feel better about yourself, otherwise, we wouldn’t likely be doing it. 

In the meantime, we can’t wait for the media. And we shouldn’t be letting the media raise our children anyway.  WE are responsible for making our daughters feel good about themselves, and teaching them to look inside to find their self-worth. Let’s all be a little more like Oprah, saying and doing things to make our daughters feel as though they are enough to impress us just as they are. That’s all Oprah really had to do to impress me.

But if she wants to give me a car too, I wouldn’t stop her.

Warning: This Post Contains Major Geeking-Out

I have never claimed to be cool. Let’s be completely clear on that point. So what I am about to tell you really should not change your opinion of me whatsoever.

After my post about my ten-year anniversary last week, I would think I had properly conveyed the level of awesomeness my husband possesses. However, during our anniversary dinner, he went and outdid himself by giving me the best gift I could have imagined. Diamonds? No. Pearls? No. A ticket to the three-day Monkees Convention in March of 2013? Damn straight! Continue reading “Warning: This Post Contains Major Geeking-Out”