“As recommended by therapists world-wide!”

“Now made with time accelerating enzymes to make the visit fly by!”

The Wiggles certainly have their place in any child’s music catalogue, as does Raffi.   But for my daughter’s go to dance music, it’s gotta be TMBG.  I was never a huge fan of theirs when they were producing regular old pop music, but when they started recording the kid stuff, my fangirl status was cemented.  They mix humor along with education, and who doesn’t like that?  Nobody, that’s who. 

I can’t stand the faux-folk, stripped-down, guitar-driven stuff that somehow has become so popular on the toddler circuit, and the female singers are the worst offenders (Elizabeth Mitchell and Lisa Loeb, I’m lookin’ at you).  I don’t know why, but listening to them does not make me want to shake my thang, rather it is akin to having your hair ripped out of your head, strand by strand. I appreciate percussion instruments, that’s all I’m saying.

So I’m going to post this video from TMBG that is my daughter’s favorite, and I promise you will be singing it to yourself for the rest of the day.  Yes, its that catchy.  And cuter than hell, too.

When my son turned six, I discovered that he had a hearing problem.

It was nothing that needed a doctor’s intervention.  It was just that he discovered the fine art of selective listening.

He is now 8, and it hasn’t really gotten better.  In fact, I’d say it has gotten worse.

Although he never fails to hear any sentence that includes the words “candy” or “dessert.”

What I don’t understand is the thought process behind his almost supernatural ability to not hear what I’m telling him.   Does he think that I will suddenly give up?  That I will get tired of repeating myself and stop ordering him to clean his room because it is just too much trouble?  I suppose it might be worth a shot.

But then I find myself saying the same thing over and over, each time getting louder and louder.

Because we ALL know the thought process on that one, right?

When someone doesn’t understand you, you feel you must talk LOUDER and SLOWER, as if that will suddenly clear everything up.

But for an 8 year old, that still doesn’t work. 

I can’t be the only one out there with this problem, right?

So I’m thinking of investing in a tape recorder, recording my top ten oft-repeated phrases, and then selling it as a CD so that I can help every other mom out there save her vocal cords and her patience.  I’d even have a special one made just for the car.   You would never have to answer the question “Are we there yet?” again.  Let me do it for you! Just keep hitting the repeat button and I’ll be glad to say the response a hundred times if that’s what it takes!

You’re welcome, world.

That will be $13.99.

Plus tax.

The other day on Manolo Beauty (and if you haven’t gone over there yet and checked it out, it is a rather good site, if I do say so myself) I had mentioned a lunch box I used to take to school every day.  Being the 70′s/80′s, it was of course made out of metal.  That post got me thinking about those old metal lunch boxes and how different they are to the ones kids use today.

The one my son takes to school is fantastic.  It is insulated, big enough to fit everything he needs but small enough to still fit in his backpack, has a front pocket, and just does an all around good job of keeping his drink and whatever fruit I pack in there cold until lunchtime. 

So very different from the metal ones, which did a crappy job of keeping anything warm or cold, but damn, did they look good.  We didn’t know it then, but we were toting around compact works of art.  Sure, a lot of those lunchboxes were just advertising disguising themselves as something useful, but they were so much more visually stimulating.

Today we definitely choose function over form, but I can’t help but be a bit nostalgic about those metal boxes.  And really, they were useful as weapons, too.  I love things that can do double duty.  Today’s lunch boxes are soft-sided and useless in a fight.

Join me as I take a trip down memory lane…

I would have loved to have this lunch box!

Never knew anyone with one of these, but I covet it even now.

It seems out of all the recycled 80′s characters, Holly Hobbie was totally left in the dust. Confession, I had this lunch box. And I hated it. And I hated Holly Hobbie. She stood for nothing other than her dumb patchwork clothing.

I NEVER got into Strawberry Shortcake, but I was totally in the minority. I guarantee you someone in my class had this lunchbox.

Yes, we all watched Mork & Mindy, but I don’t know anybody who liked it enough to own a lunchbox with it. Maybe I was hanging with the wrong crowd.

Yes, I owned a Cabbage Patch Kid, who was inexplicably a boy.

I can sing the theme song to this show to this day.

Anybody else think the Sleestaks were pretty lame?

Else you might find your badly spelled internet comment being made fun of by millions!

I’m guessing that showing this video at school would be more effective at convincing students to watch what they write more than any lecture from a teacher.

via

So my family loves playing games. Or more correctly, we like competing against each other for bragging rights. We have played everything, from Pictionary to Ping Pong to bocce. We play tough, we play hard, we have absolutely no mercy. Too bad if you are having an off day or your back hurts. We will seize every advantage we can, and if you are gonna complain, don’t play.

I’m not sure where our ruthlessness comes from, but I can tell you that I am one heck of a Connect Four player due to the fact my late grandfather would never “let” anyone win, not even a 6 year old. If anyone beat him (which was rarely) it was an honest win. I will admit to proudly continuing that tradition, and I have never let the Munchkin win at anything just to soothe his ego.

We are probably at our worst when playing board/party games. Perhaps it is the proximity to our competitors, being all crammed in around a table. For whatever reason, our Italian heritage comes on full display with waving hand gestures, open-palm slaps to the forehead, and deafening yells of both triumph and defeat. My sister and I are practically unbeatable as Pictionary partners, she once guessed that I drew a dryer when I only drew a box with a circle on top. My dad almost always wins at Trivial Pursuit. My husband and I have the winning record as Scattergories partners. It gets really ugly when we play Uno. I don’t even want to talk about it.  The flashbacks!

A good time is had by all when my family bonds together over games, and that is exactly what we are doing. You really get to know a person when you play a game with them. Whether you discover a short fuse, or get an intimate earful of their highest decibel capability, it is something to remember. Of course, the most fun is winning, then you get to rub it in. At least until the next time.

Can kind of suck sometimes.

Yeah, there’s the adorable factor with their big eyes and chubby cheeks and cute babbling.

But sometimes the cute can only take you so far.

Then you’ve got to also contend with the thinking that running out into the street is a good idea, that everything on the floor should be shoved as quickly as possible into one’s mouth while running the opposite direction of the parent, the extreme sport that has become diapering, and complete refusal to sleep on one’s own in one’s own crib.

You know your life is pretty sad when your 8 year old will be attending a New Year’s party and spending the night at his buddy’s house while at midnight, you will be resentfully staring at your one year old who is determined to take up as many square feet as possible on your mattress.

Pity party of one, your table is now ready.

Now this is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a while…

10. Etch-a-sketch. Your child will spend hours working on a deeply meaningful artistic creation, only to have it wiped away at the slightest jostling. A psychologically devastating reminder of the ubiquity of loss and the ephemeral nature of existence. Also, no building sand castles on the beach.

And even though I’m no psychological expert, I’m going to add that Operation has got to be a major inducer of anxiety, amirite?

(via)