Sunday, October 31, 2010

The Olsen Chronicles

From the archives of Guarro Gone Wild we unearth a wild night for the girls from 2006.  Clearly a night out like this is a cry for help. Someone help Michelle Tanner, even with her new party pals the likes of girl scouts, boy scouts and Debbie Gibson it looks like they are up to no good. I've heard of family love, but this is taking it to a whole other level. Where is Danny, Uncle Jesse & Joey when you need them?*

*If you are new here, this post may not make much sense. Maybe you aren't new and you are still totally confused. Check out my last post for more details and how I was inspired to bring back a Halloween of yore. 

The change and likeness of this post and pictures is different than what or how I usually post.  It might look familiar to you! Isn't imitation the best form of flattery - Guarros Gone Wild is Pink is the New Blog for Halloween, because why the heck not? Dressing up is FUN - Happy Halloween


Friday, October 29, 2010

blogs need trick or treats too

Me: This year we're dressing up for Halloween. 
You: Of course you are, you're obsessed. 
Me: Oh yeah? But did you know how obsessed I really am? This year the BLOG is dressing up too.
You:  Why? How? What? How bananas are YOU? 

The how and the what?  You'll have to wait until all Halloween for that, my friends. How bananas am I? I think the picture speaks for itself.  The why? Why the hell not?  I'll tell you the how I got the idea though.

The other day Gregg over at The Lame Sauce sent a tweet about sending him a funny picture. Do you know which one I thought of immediately? It's actually made an appearance here a few times lately, as recently as yesterday. The ball & chain and I Halloween circa 2006.  

The tweet got me thinking back to when that Halloween when we came up with, what I consider, a pretty legendary costume. The point could be made that without us standing next to each other, I kind of looked like a sloppy call girl and he looked like a Russian immigrant... but together? Together we were magic. After the party I put together a little email to some friends my entire address book because damn it, it was too fun not to share. That was pre-blogging days. I've admitted I have a bit of an issue.  That hording habit has given me an opportunity.  Don't hate the game.

I saved that email and for all those that weren't in my address book at the time, you get to reap the benefit. For all those that got the email? You want to see it again, bigger and better, don't you? Well wait no further.... well wait, but only until Sunday. You think you've seen it all with a picture here of the Olsens, but I assure let me assure you, you haven't seen anything yet. 

Thursday, October 28, 2010

This Fattie Wants to Make Out

Have you seen or heard about the big fat hoopla over at Marie Claire? Long story short some yahoo (who admittedly has body image issues and a dangerous history with anorexia) wrote a post, published through Marie Claire about how overweight people shouldn't make out on TV (commentary on a new TV show that I have never seen, Mike & Molly) because (and I'm quoting) 
"So anyway, yes, I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other ... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room — just like I'd find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine addict slumping in a chair."
I don't want to link to the donkey. But I guess if I don't the following won't make sense. Much like her post. I'm likely going to comment on a ton of her donkey remarks because I just can't help it.  I would, however, like to point you to and link the hell out of the best damn response to her post that I ever did see. 

over at MamaPop * discovered* some unpublished drafts to the original post.  You should check it

Ok, not as funny is my response to the whole thing. I actually commented on the article, despite being forced to make an account with the rat bastards of Marie Clarie. Which, I implore you to re-think ever buying again. It seems dramatic, doesn't it? While I'm all for the drama at times, I assure you I am not over exaggerating this here. Donkey.

Here's the thing. I DO actually believe that everyone has a right to express they opinion, however donkey it is. Truly. 100%. I think why this excursion of her right irritates me to no end is the mode in which the message was delivered. Through a women's magazine. Like we don't have enough issues and then she is allowed to (and this unnamed VP of Donkeyville or editor or whatever) push the publish button.  I'm not IT person or know much at all about the publishing world, but I'm thinking for her story to get published through a major magazine, that someone had to do it for her - I'm assuming it isn't as easy as Blogger or WordPress where you just press "publish." Someone OK'd this. Someone thought it was a good idea. Let's pretend for FUN that it slipped through the cracks that someone didn't read the text of the post that had such hits as:
  • "Now, don't go getting the wrong impression: I have a few friends who could be called plump. I'm not some size-ist jerk." 
  • "What do you guys think? Fat people making out on TV — are you cool with it? Do you think I'm being an insensitive jerk?"
  • "And while I think our country's obsession with physical perfection is unhealthy, I also think it's at least equally crazy, albeit in the other direction, to be implicitly promoting obesity!"
    • Side note: no one is "promoting obesity" just a show about people who are overweight / probably medically obese - being happy. God forbid. And holy crap, they make out. Let's hope that's all they do. 

OK back to our pretend world where someone wasn't doing their job and didn't read at up to 6 sentences and actually caught one of the 6-10 sentences that wasn't obesely offensive. The title is:  Should "Fatties" Get a Room? (Even on TV?)
Inside and *discovered* picture of her creative process.

Long story long,  my disgust, though may seem is directed at her - is really for the whole kit and caboodle of Marie Claire. 

I don't know if she or anyone will really read the comment I left on the site.  As I typed it out I realized 99.9% of what I was writing was more for my own sanity than it was for her benefit or education, thus this post was born.  
I went back and forth with to comment or not. Ultimately I wanted them to know, hoping there would a chance that someone over at that circus would read it, even if it was a peon Donkey,  Marie Claire lost a few customers in my household.  Is L buying magazines? No, but home girl will be advised against it once she becomes legal to purchase such crap.   Does that matter to them? Who knows. 

To add insult to injury, the author updated her post with an apology. Even that was redickOHdonkey (definition: so ridiculous it's donkey ridiculous). Her suspected forced apology was even out of control.  Apparently the author has had body image issues for the better part of her life (welcome to the club) and this has become dangerously extreme as she battled with anorexia (which apparently in her mind is a disease, but not obesity, but she's not a 'size-ist' whatever that is) - anyway this fact "could" have something to do with her opinions on weight. You think? Even that irritates me. She might as well have said,
"So sorry fat people, but I can't help but force the need for thin, I can't help it. " Meanwhile, back at the Donkey Ranch another piece of her irritating original post was where she advised people who are overweight with sage advice like looking at nutrition labels, eat more fiber and exercise. Holy crap - the holy grail of weight loss. Eureka! Oh and then she follows up her advice with: "YOU CAN DO IT!" Jesus christ, skinny mini, you're right when you put it in caps, I really BELIEVE IT!

Now to be fair, I'm not morbidly 
obese, at least I don't think so - I think I'm just obese not morbidly? Not sure.  I have more to love, let's put it that way.  As someone who has been forever dealing with weight - loss and gain all I want to do is smack her. Like really knock her out. I have forever been surrounding by friends and family dealing with body image and wanting to change the way they look.  Why? For health reasons or just plain superficial reasons. If they aren't trying to loose weight today, they will be trying tomorrow - they will change their lifestyle, they will live and die by their nutritional labels and will do what they can on physical activity - whether it's get a trainer, go to the gym or just walk more -they are always going to try. Let's pretend they don't. Let's pretend all of us fatties are just sitting around and eating ice cream and packing in the carbs, riding our people movers around to avoid exerting ourself. Do we not DESERVE love? Or just some plain action? Because it makes the skinny girls sad or squimish? Turn your god damn head. Donkey, what KIND of person does deserve to make out? What KIND of person can you deal with finding love? Or forget love - again - just a good old fashion tussle. A) why are you watching? B) Who CAN get a little action in your book? Apparently you can't watch "them" do much of anything? Shall we all become shut ins that will need to be lifted from our home eventually - destined to be confined to our home because of your weak ass stomach? 

Anyway, so then she "apologizes" and I think this is where I got the most angry, I'm fairly certain I blacked out in rage.

"But perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to judge based on superficial observations."

Perhaps? Really, you go in with an apology with perhaps you shouldn't be judgmental? Perhaps.

I'm not calling for her resignation or anyones really.  There should have been some BIG OLD 'disclaimer' stating the blog post was the author's (ridiculous and however much I disagree with them) opinion - and she has a right to have them. Like I said, I think what makes me so angry is how it is backed up by a woman's magazine.  She could have written it on a personal blog and I would have thought she was being a donkey and wrong. It's posted on a recognized women's magazine and blog site? 

I have the most intense and absolutely sickening disrespect and disappointment in an industry - and frankly humans. Why so dramatic? Because as PEOPLE and HUMANS in the world today - representing women - we deserve better than what they provided us with - and that choice was made. So yeah, PERHAPS she should back up her fellow women, PERHAPS she should be respectful. PERHAPS she should be an example.

Rant is now over, me and my overweight self is going to go and make out now. Cover your eyes, Tiny - I don't know how you'll feel about overweight people making out, dressed in drag as women who are the super skinny you think we should all be - so consider yourself warned.

The Olsens get REAL

(ps Halloween 2006... it's not REALLY them!)

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Hoarding Habits

There comes a time in a hoarder's life where you realize your habits have paid off in spades. Last night was one of those times.  I may or may not have a slight issue with keeping things I will never need again. It's in my DNA, I save things.

I remember when I was a teenager, my mom and I were cleaning out the kitchen and I came across a drawer filled with cookie cutters.  I went to go through them out. My logic was simple, I had never seen my mother bake a cookie that needed cutting for my entire life up until that point, I think I was 16 or 17.  The chances of her becoming a baker or cookie cutting machine was slim to none.  You would have thought I was throwing out bags of gold coins based on her reaction.  We did not throw out said cookie cutters, I have yet to see a cookie baked or anything made that needs a cookie cutter.  Ah the symptoms of a hoarder. It's genetic. I don't have a drawer of cookie cutters I'll never use but I do save other stuff.  Now, I keep my disease under control by using my OCD-like powers for good.  I may or may not love organization.

In my professional life, there is a misnomer that I love color coding.  It's not that I hate it, it's just that I'm not as obsessed as I am believed to be. I do like things in an order though.  When I find myself holding on to things that seem ridiculous I organize it (see here: over organize at times) to avoid clutter and the appearance of a hoarding household.  I may or may not label everything, even L's drawers. Sure she can't read, but I like it to be clear where things go.  I like things to have a place.  For example, manuals, directions and those warranties that I never read. I have a magazine holder full of them and a 6 inch binder full of them.  We're talking years worth.  We get another one, I pull down the binder from a shelf that basically touches my ceiling in my office and add it to my collection. Note to self: another symptom of too much stuff in your house is when you have shelves that touch your ceiling.

Any who. We've been putting off taking L out of her cage crib.  She's 3,  it's time.  She's now successfully all over the potty training situation she should have free reign to get out and do her business. How ever will I figure out to transform the crib into it's second phase form of a toddler bed? How?

I'll tell you how- hooray for hoarding tendencies. The manual and extra parts are where they are supposed to be. Holl.Er.

My baby girl is out of her cage and loves her big girl bed.  She read the manual to me, as I put together her new bed. I asked her what it said and she read it out loud to me.

"And then you will have a big girl bed. No cryin. No sleeping in Mommy and Daddy's bed. No cryin'. You get a Dora blankets cause you have a big girl bed. You are a big girl."

Last night we put her to bed, this time she could get in herself. I took pictures. I may or may not have teared up a bit and then I promptly put the directions away because soon enough that toddler bed will need to transform into its final phase (full size bed) or maybe, just maybe, back its original form - a crib.  When that time comes, this hoarder is going to be prepared.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Poop Palace & Party Parades

Maybe you heard, we are in the middle of Poop Gate 2010.  L has been in the process of potty training, regularly, since early summer.  She has been sitting on the damn potty for well before that.  I don't know what is worse, the fact that she's been at forever or that it felt that it was never going to end.  About two weeks ago we got the good word that L could come to school with underwear on, despite the rules they have on coming in with no safety net with out consistant action on the toliet.

Yesterday before the ball & chain left to pick the kid up from daycare he said they would go to the store after pick up.  This worked for me, I had a few more things to get done and it's easiest if I don't have to shove my adoring child out of my office wielding lies of just 'one more minute.'  I thought I blacked out in productivity when they were home for what seemed like 5 minutes later. 

L ran into my office with the biggest smile I have ever seen on her face, while my baby daddy screamed from the living room, "Mom, L has something to tell you!"  

Side note: I hate when people I didn't birth call me Mom or Mommy. The exception is when those that do (you know who you are) call me Mamma. You get that because that's my name to you - not a name you call me for lack of knowing what my name is or you're referring to me with out addressing me, directly. It might not make sense but I hate when a doctor, for example, walks into an examining room and says "How is Mom doing?" OR "Mom, how is L?" It might PTSD.

I digress, I forgive him though, despite my preference that he would have been screaming, "L go tell YOUR Mom what you have to tell her!" Though I am 99% sure that he was screaming to avoid the said pushing my child out of my office.

She ran into my office with the LARGEST smile I have ever seen. Pausing for a moment and then screaming as loud as she could, "I have a surprise for you!" 

I honestly had no idea what the hell she was going to tell me - she always has surprises.  She ate her lunch, she went outside on the playground, or just an I love you. Not such a surprise but I love it every time, so it could have been that she was going to drop the L word.  

And then one of the most beautiful sentences I have ever heard....


Now to be far, my dear husband coached her (and not for the first time) on the "Now, pay up!" piece to her announcement but pay up I will. She's had her eye on a castle at the toy store next to the gym she goes swimming at - so we were off. They didn't go to the store before coming home because she was so excited.  Who wouldn't be? Poop on the potty, stickers at school every single time (seriously she will do anything for a damn sticker) and now a castle? 

First, we had to call Nana Lu to tell her the big news.  We dialed L did her whole "I WENT POOPY ON THE POTTY! AND I WENT THREE TIMES! NOW, PAY UP!!!!!!!!" bit and the man on the other line informed us we called the wrong number. (TRUE. STORY.)

We went to get the castle, smile on our faces and pride in my heart. All of that came to a crashing halt when I got a look at the castle. It was SUPER affordable - dare I say cheap and super crappy. The Prince has a receding hairline and his face is melted. I went through the store searching and trying to convince her on other toys, I even contemplated trying to talk her into walking into the fab toy store up the street where we could easily end up dropping hundreds of dollars. I pulled myself together and proudly paid for the crappy castle my baby girl was getting for getting shit done. 
Oh yeah I did. 

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

wordless wednesday

If my daughter had a facebook account... this would TOTALLY be her profile picture.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The Price of Fat

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about where I work (from home) and what's in my office.  Number 4 on the massively crowded picture toward the bottom was a dress (actually truth be told two dresses in two different sizes, neither of which fit me). 

Earlier last week, I bit the bullet and went to go see Inna. I found her shop, European Tailoring, as I find most places that aren't recommended by friends - through Yelp or some kind of Google search. I like to see what people write about stores or services and I go by that. It's what I do.  

Tailors in the area didn't really have any write ups, so I was going in blind.  What made me choose her shop, instead of the others that were online and didn't have write ups either?

This quote from the website: 

"Most of us don't have the bodies of Hollywood celebrities and supermodels and find it difficult to obtain an attractive and comfortable fit in mass-produced clothes made for people size 0 or less. However, there is no reason why you should not look like a star. The truth is that perfectly fit clothes make people look classy and stylish no matter what size they are. To experience the transformation that only perfectly fit clothes could bring come to European Tailoring and we'll make sure your clothes look as if they were custom-made just for you.:

I am not a Hollywood celebrity OR a super model. I am not a size 0 OR less. This place was made for ME. She is talking to ME. 

I went in and explained my dilemma. See I bought two bridesmaid dresses, the largest size in both styles that "spoke to me." The problem was that neither fit and while the biggest size in both styles, they were two DIFFERENT sizes. While I'd prefer to leave at least one of them "untouched" as to return one, I'm thinking with a few weeks to go before the wedding this might not be an option. 

F YOU J.CREW and your sizes made for small pre-pubescent little boys.

I have been working to loose weight for close to a year now, and despite not being an absolute pig, I've managed to loose about 30 lbs. SURE I probably could have seen better results with a little more (and by more I mean any) exercise and possibly cutting out not cutting down the beer intake - but I'm only human. After explaining the situation, sans flipping off J. Crew her first statement was just as helpful as the nonexistent big girl section of the J. Crew bridal shop.

Her: "You ave time to loose one more dress size, ya?!"
Me: "Well... with out taking out a rib cage bone, I don't think so."

I tried on the dress that was the biggest, still one size too small. I haven't been to church in awhile, but I assume you can't go in with out zipping your dress all the way up.  The bottom of the dress, while does get around these baby making hips is reminiscent of a sausage casing. 

Her: "Ah. your future ees very bright with this top. Da skirt? Hopeless." 

Awesome, Inna. What other great news do you have for me - oh wise fortune teller and seamstress?  She wanted me to try on the other dress- and frankly I haven't even tried this one - as it is a size smaller than the other one, and what are the chances that will fit me since the larger one doesn't? I humored her - she's here to help. Plus at this point, my self esteem can take it - I'm like a tank. Figuratively and (clearly) literally.

Her: "Dis top. Hopeless.  But dis skirt? We have bright things."

Long story short, my future is bright and hopeless. For some strange reason the top on one dress fits like a glove and the skirt on the other is great. She's going to patch work this situation and most likely put the top from one on the bottom of the other. 

Is it just me - or does this remind you of Toy Story? You know Sid, how he remakes toys - except I'm hoping she is less sadistic.  I'm also hoping the dress doesn't rebel against me. I'm just saying. 
photo credit
photo credit: disney
The price of being fat includes the need for a sense of humor and a ready and willing debit card to pay for the mishaps. 

Friday, October 15, 2010

Close Enough to Wagon Home

I am cool. People like me. I am cool. People like me. 

It's a mantra, Stuart Smalley style (reference to SNL skit about self affirmations you can see a video here to refresh the old noggin) I repeat to myself on the regular. 

You see, 98% of my friends that I would love to see on the daily live out of state. I've done the math here.  I have a few (GREAT) friends in the area, if by "the area" you mean the state. The closest is about 20-30 minutes away on a good day and the next closest is 45 minutes.  The friends that are closest? Strangely I typically see them OUT of state at mutual friend's celebrations, birthdays, weddings, showers, etc. 

I just want some local broads I can call on a whim and meet up. Is that too much to ask for? I want play dates for the kid that we don't have to pack up for the day. I want meeting up at the playground or movie night at someone's house. This, clearly, is too much to ask for. 

By in large, our friends are primarily in New Jersey, New York and Massachusetts but we have a few as far as freaking Australia. Facebook helps, email is a savior, but these things don't give us a Friday night dinner date. 

We moved to the area over a year ago.  Since our decent on our new town and state I've been on the hunt for a friend or two. I'm on the prowl.  I leave the house and it's time to hunt.  I work from home which doesn't help my cause. There is minimal contact with anyone - live and in person. It's a huge downside, but I wouldn't trade my commute or freedom of choice as it relates to wardrobe or footwear for anything. Including this elusive group of friends... light bulb moment: perhaps this is why I can't find a friend?  When I do leave the house, I try to use this time wisely.  I do not operate thinking of stranger danger. Quite the opposite, I am fairly sure women have walked away from our interactions thinking I am trying to pick them up. I'd like to move past the pick up and go straight to the 'let's be friends' conversation.

I have found some success, in the way of hanging out with people superficially.  Luckily I came into a town where I know of two people, one of which has been a monthly savior.  She has invited me into a Bunco group. Ah women and their company.  I tried to find a reference link for you, if you don't know what it's about - but I think this video shows it all. 

Monthly, we have a blast. I get drunkO at BuncO and all is good with the world, but it's not quite the full picture of what I'm looking for. Maybe I'm looking for something that won't exist for me. 

I picture this family who lives with in walking distance to us - they have a kid or kids around the same age as ours - we get to together on occasion, Friday night dinners every couple of weeks.  Can't you see it? We drink wine (I'll drink beer, but the story seemed to call for wine), the kids play in the yard while we look on from the porch (we don't really have a porch, but maybe they do).  We hang out and laugh and eventually the kids go to sleep, sleep over style.  At some point we head home or they head home and maybe rather than carrying the kids home there is a red flyer wagon that provides transport for the children as Mommy and Daddy stumble walk home.  

BBQs in the summer? Apple picking in the fall? Sledding on a random snow day in the winter? Something Hallmarky in the Spring? 

It isn't that I'm not trying, for the record!  In addition to trying to pick up strangers, I go to all the parent 'nights' or activities that are organized through L's school.  I show up, like I'm going out on a date.  I get dressed up (for me) and even through on a little make up. I never seem to get asked out for that second date though. I guess I don't ask anyone for a second date either, but I'm a lady, god damn it. Either I freak out and I'm the shy girl in the corner or I go in gang busters aggressively trying to connect with people in the nicest way with verbal diarrhea and friendliness.  Perhaps it is not surprising people don't ask me out again.  I wasn't always like this, but as time passes I start to loose hope of finding my people and have somehow along the way lost myself.  have a hard time balancing because I just WANT to have what I have found in other stages of my life so badly. 

I am thankful for the monthly outlet with group I've been looped in on. Maybe I can't find "more" because I'm asking for too much?  I can't say the same for the ball & chain though.  I want him to have a guys night out.  We just haven't found that connection. Maybe we are comparing too much to our friends that we do have? Who, by the way, are awesome, fantastic, generous, loving, caring, funny, entertaining, supporting, too damn far away (even at 30 minutes). Maybe I really am asking for too much? 

A few weeks ago, I read this post over at Scary Mommy. She speaks the truth people.  Her post frightens me because I feel like she's been in my head. It also makes me indescribably sad. Sad because I find this kind of post, which means there is this kind of understanding, and this kind of potential of people 'getting me' but it being so far out of reach to what I had hoped we would have. This is someone's experience that I can totally and 100% relate to, but that doesn't get me any closer to a Friday night dinner or a brunch rotation. 

I am cool. People like me. I am cool. People like me. 

We are fun. I mean, not to toot my own horn - but TOOT TOOT BEEP BEEP.  Light bulb moment: maybe I need to calm my ego down? Maybe that's why I can't find friends? I'm going to keep trying and hope that someday my family in a wagon will someday come.  

*Today has been brought to you by the number 39 of the "100 Things" List about little old me.  Sure, planned to be on Thursdays... but better late than never.  

#39. Most of my closest friends are in other states or countries. WTF. 

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Quote Boards - The Life of the Party

The story behind the music: last year, L had a Dora the Explorer Party. Despite my best efforts to not have a Dora party this year - it happened and she wanted one. I needed to bring a little change to the whole thing - so I added Diego. My thought process was this: if we add Diego - I can legitimately put together a photo both of sorts. If you haven't seen Diego - it's like Dora but a boy - less screaming and rather an a backpack side kick like Dora, he has a camera voiced by the incomparable Rosie Perez.

Photobooth-esq  scenes filled my little planning head and then I found this over at the Photojojo Store!

Photo credits: Photojojo and the magical people of Photojojo!

Can you say EVEN BETTER? 

I set up streamers just like the photos, in Dora themed colors, of course.  I made sure I had a tripod ready to go, I got the chalk board out, everything was prepared and ready to G.O. 

The only flaw in my plan was to actually execute the idea.  Turns out a bender the day before and a house full of friends and family will throw a MAJOR wrench into the plan. The good news is I eventually remembered to break out the fun, it's too bad 98% of the people who were there had left - but next time? I'm all over it. 

No go out and buy this crowd pleaser, or invite me over and remind me to bring (and use) this fabulous party fun.  Buy the Chalkboard Speech Bubble at the Photojojo Store it does a body good.

(whoopie pie people... get your head out of the gutter)
Really a 2 pronged joke - aided by the board AND the snuggie. Yes. That's a snuggie.
Best party fun game? Do NOT tell the person you are holding the quote board behind what it says. Good times.
Everybody loves it... even the bowl of pasta & sauce.

That's the deal people. Good stuff. 

Oh and while this is by NO way a sponsored post.  That said, hey Photojojo peeps - you can FEEL free to send along any ol' thing for me to have fun with.  Maybe that post could be written using the chalk board? Hello... good idea people!  I have to add one more thing. I didn't realize when ordering this board with other goodies that the chalk board may not be shipped on time for the party. I emailed and with in a day I got a super friendly (and witty) response and they worked out my order.Super fantastic customer service people, it's practically unheard of.  Another fun take away from this fantastic and fun shop? These paddles. TBD on those - but I'll let you know if they are just as fun!

Monday, October 11, 2010

Stickers = Salvation

Everyone warned me. Everyone told me. The threes are the new twos. I've heard it all from the Terrible Threes, the FML Threes to the F*cked Up Threes and I'm not sure if I am coining this, but I'm going with the Terrorist Threes.

The day after her 3rd birthday threats & premonitions became a reality.  I immediately did what any mother in 2010 would do. I went straight to Facebook. I got such "encouraging" comments as:
  • Welcome. It's a club you never wanted to belong to. Every once in awhile you'll get a glimpse of your sweet 2 year old who you loved, but then the evil returns. With a vengeance. This can't be a surprise though. Right? You have seen my blog.
  • Three is tough. We didn't have the Terrible Twos at our house, but we ARE having the Terrible Threes! Fourth birthday is in February and we are counting down! I think it definitely peaks at 3 1/2. I'm hoping we're in the home stretch. (I will let you know :)
  • Someone told me once that it's not the "terrible two's" but the "f*cking three's". I thought that was very appropriate...Good luck! ;)
  • I'm terrified.  
  • I'm in hell too. It was bad with the boys, but it's worse with the girl. I fear her. You're not alone!! :)
  • ahahahahaha! It gets better....because if you don't go nuts or kill them, they turn four. Seriously. It gets better. But i have gray hair now. A lot of it. I blame surviving three children going thru year three.
  • Nothing ever gets "better", you just swap old bs for new. Good luck...hang in, kindergarten will be here before you know it!
  • It's like child birth my friends - if anyone told you what that was "really" going to be like would anyone have wanted to embrace that either? I think not. It was definitely terrible threes for us but the good news is you do survive and it is all preparation for what lies ahead....I'm just saying!
I don't know why I was surprised but the day after her birthday I got hit with a ton of bricks. A ton of whiny, crying, grunting, pain in the ass bricks.  I have been reading all over the crazy wild world wide web about stories of the wretched three year old curse.  At one point I felt like L & I were doing a 'theatrical interpretations' of different blog posts, specifically over at Motherhood, WTFWTF, indeed people.  I'm going to have to go back and re-read with newly fresh and truly scared eyes.

Day one after her 3rd birthday she was in time out for 95% of the time she was awake.  I'm talking time out after time out. I'm talking a miserable dinner and miserable night. Ordinarily she gets to watch one episode of something.  That's the rule, though it should be the exception because if I'm being honest she usually watches at least two episodes of something (20-ish minutes a pop).  I know my super mom cape isn't going to be delivered any time soon, but with the ball & chain's travel schedule and my own work schedule - often times I have to put in an hour or two after she gets home from school.  Usually I can split that out a little bit for when she is awake verses after bed, which means some extra TV time for the kid.  I'm not proud of it, but we do what we can to survive here. That first day after she turned 3 I really felt what it was like to be a parent. I made a decision based on what was best for the kid verses what is best for me. Despite how easy it would have been to put her in front of the TV, I held strong.  Don't pretend you didn't see 95% of the time in time out.

She was home by 5 pm and I put her to bed by 7 pm in an effort to keep everyone safe and happy. This plan seemed like a great one at 8 pm.  At 5 am the next morning I realized my plan had failed me.  On day two, after she got home from school the mayhem started pretty much immediately.  I knew something had to be done.

L & I had a pretty serious conversation about the rules.  Moving forward, like last night, if she was wild and was in time out a lot this means no TV. This hurt her.  When she cries for no reason? No TV. When she doesn't listen, talks like a baby or grunts instead of using her words? No TV. And there I was having the conversation I've seen time and time again on TV sitcoms through out the ages.  "This hurts me more than it hurts you." Because truly? I'd really like to be the parent to just let her do what she wants so she shuts the hell up and I can get done what I want to and need to get done.  I won't do that (yet).

In addition to the rules, we now have a sticker chart - personalized just for her. 10 stickers and she gets a prize. Said prize may very well be a toy from the dollar store or a piece of freaking candy, we only have 5 stickers thus far, so I have a few more stickers to figure it out.  How it works is - if she has a 100% day in each category or rule she gets a sticker.  Her 6 major rules are as follows:
  • No crying for no reason. 
  • Eat dinner nicely (folded in this includes eating what we serve & using her fork - she isn't an animal, damn it). 
  • Listen to Daddy & Mommy
  • Act like a BIG girl (this includes stopping the damn baby talk)
  • Use your words, no grunting (also trying to curb the damn baby talk)
  • Using the potty - no accidents (this addresses the whole fear O poop thing)

So far, so good - the stickers make my world go round.  Amen. Now to be fair, it's only been a few days but I am going to remain positive here.  I need it to work out.  Two days into pure and tiresome threes insists that I be hopeful.  The day the stickers stop working, send help.  I give up. I surrender. I know, only two days and I'm punking out? I'm weak. I own that. Until someone else has to come in and take over - it's me and you, Dora stickers.  Let's hope it lasts 4Eva. 

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Potty Training: Taking the Next Step

When did I become the person who needed to update her Facebook status to talk underwear?  I don't know when it happened but the second the ball & chain came home from picking L up and provided me with some excellent news all I wanted to do was figure out a way to put it out there.  The update to give it justice is too long to status update so here we are.

At L's school there are some strict rules about potty training.  We can't send the kid in with out diapers until she goes 100% at home all things, all the time, for three long days. 

Back story: L has been going number 1 no problemo since July.  An accident here or there, but not for awhile now.  The next step in this potty training business? That my friend is another story.  It's a shit show. Yes, I just went there and NO not literally, which is the problem.

Yesterday, however, we learned we might be throwing caution to the wind at school and getting shit done.  Yes, I just went there and YES I mean literally. 

L's teacher informed us that "they had a meeting and all talked" and think, despite the school's rules about not coming in with diaper until she does all deeds consistently for 3 days straight that actually BREAKING that rule is what she needs to get this potty training bologna over with.  They think it's the push she needs.  Hell, I say push away.  Apparently the ball & chain didn't believe the teacher as she was pitching this idea.  The teacher took this disbelief as a sign that we wouldn't be on board with this idea. Honestly, it's quite the contrary.  We think this is a great idea but know how the rules work at school.  I love the school for the rules and structure they have, but this bending of the rules is another thing I love about the school.  Apparently L and her three teachers "met" and talked about the whole thing - and it looks like they are all in agreement. Underwear all day everyday on Monday.   It's usually just the weekends that we go wild with no diapers.  Another reason I love the teachers? They know she needs this to get over the whole fear of pooping thing (yup, just went there) and they KNOW that accidents will in fact happen.  They know all of these things and BOOM for the good of the kid they are going to let the shit hit the fan or the pants, as it were.

Hallelujah. L is going to daycare on Monday with no diaper and approximately 48957 changes of clothes. 

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Binky Fairy Came and All She Left Me Was Debt

Last Night as a Two Year Old
Last night with a binky!
We decided the Binky Fairy would come on L's third birthday and take her binkies.  That's been the plan for at least a year, after we bagged the whole at two she would give them up. This year, we've talked about it daily, reminding her. In retrospect, it is kind of cold of us.
Writing a Letter to the Binky Fairy

Happy Birthday Girl! NOW. A crazy lady is going to come to our house and take something you love dearly. Happy Birthday! Go to bed in a tantrum!

After school, we came home and ran around the house collecting all of her binkies... there were a LOT. We made an envelope together, she wrote her a note, we stuffed all her binkies in the envelope and put it in the mailbox. I don't know where I heard someone saying their kid was scared of some strange woman coming into his room, fair enough. I decided to bypass that all together. Plus I am not graceful so why even attempt to sneak in and get the envelope if I didn't need to.
"Mama. This is FUN!"

L thinking this is all a GREAT idea, at this point!

Friends told me the binky fairy left a 'big boy/girl' present and the kid was psyched.  Unfortunately I didn't think of that in time nor did I have time to make that happen. Plus, it's her birthday, and we are having a birthday party for her on Saturday so I just kind of figured more 'crap' could wait. Also, she won't know any different - she isn't on Facebook, she doesn't know what the 'other kids' got.  I decided we'd just celebrate on the porch when we discovered the fairy came. Friends said to leave 'fairy dust' which was another thing I forgot. Someone suggested to use baby powder - but since that kid knows her baby powder I decided to scrap the whole thing and pretend the gold sparkley paint on the inside of the mailbox would do.

Fast forward through a slight tantrum at night and sound sleep through out - she wakes up and is ready to go check out the mailbox to see if her binkies are gone. I lifted her up (my mailbox is high) and pointed out the sparkly fairy dust.  She was so excited. She was amazed to see the envelope was gone.  She literally had her jaw drop and whispered, "ooh mee gaaad."  She reached around the mailbox to confirm that the bulky envelope was in fact gone.

Much to my surprise she pulled something OUT of the mailbox. Apparently I forgot to take out all the mail yesterday and there was a lone Citibank statement in the mailbox. 

She squealed "MAMA, LOOK!"  I put her down on the ground and quickly tried to come up with a story.  Before I could say anything (and this is NOT an exaggeration) she hugged the statement and said, "Mama. It's SOOO beautiful."

Ah the simple things. I quickly decided that the statement was in fact a letter from the Binky Fairy and since we were running late for school (which was another lie, because for the first time in forever we were going to be EARLY), we had to go now and couldn't read the letter. We'd read the letter after school! It turns out the letter will send L on a scavenger hunt for her big girl present since I am a sucker and she is too cute.
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