Teeny Manolo

When asked the question last week, “Is our society today too “kid-centric?” thirty six percent of you stated yes indeedy, it is.  A surprising fifteen percent agreed with Whitney Houston, and a nice chunk of you at twenty six percent decided to completely cheese out on answering.   Remind me never to take you shopping with me, ‘k?

As for this week’s burning question, I’m interested in what you think about surrogate mothers. Well, in fact, what you think about yourself becoming a surrogate mother. And I’m not giving you an easy out this time, either.

We may have made reference to this guiding principle of parenting in the past. Yes, moms can enjoy a lovely Mother’s Day, full of pancakes in bed, trips to the spa, and salmon salad dinners in fern bars, but there’s no reason in the world for Mom’s fun to end there. All it takes is a little advance planning.

Because we’ve had enough flowers and chocolate!

One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child’s name and how old he or she is.
Erma Bombeck

It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge.
Phyllis Diller

Raising a kid is part joy and part guerilla warfare.
Ed Asner

My mother’s menu consisted of two choices: Take it or leave it.
 Buddy Hackett

If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?
Milton Berle

Most children threaten at times to run away from home. This is the only thing that keeps some parents going.
Phyllis Diller

Mothers are all slightly insane.
J.D. Salinger

And I couldn’t resist these, either…

Dictionary of a Mother

Dumbwaiter
One who asks if the kids would care to order dessert.

Feedback
The inevitable result when the baby doesn’t appreciate the strained carrots.

Full Name
What you call your child when you’re mad at him.

Grandparents
The people who think your children are wonderful even though they’re sure you’re not raising them right.

Independent
How we want our children to be for as long as they do everything we say.

Show Off
A child who is more talented than yours.

Whodunit
None of the kids that live in your house.

George Bush is the greatest president in the history of presidents.

Mission was accomplished.

Toddlers never throw tantrums.

I live in a huge mansion with a cook, a maid, and a butler.

Junk food is good for you and helps you lose weight.

Pamela Anderson is an Oscar-winning actress.

Christian is as straight as a ruler.

The economy is strong.

And Dina Lohan has received a “Top Mom” of the year award.

I am in Bizarro World, aren’t I? 

Right now, every web site under the sun is giving out their gift ideas for Mother’s Day.

And really, that’s a tough one because what exactly is the proper gift for someone who took ten months out of their lives to create another human being from scratch?

No wonder people, especially men, scratch their heads and wonder what the heck is appropriate.

I recently got an email that declared the “in” gifts for Mother’s Day were “Blooms and Bling.” Whilst I am the first person on the planet to appreciate alliteration, I disagree.

I mean, flowers are pretty, but they die. Why give something that will be dead in a week to someone who was a virtual giver of life?

As for the bling, I’m sure that jewelry is appreciated.

But I can’t help thinking that there’s something better. Something more suited to the magnitude of the sacrifice. 

I had a high-risk pregnancy that resulted in seemingly endless hours of special tests, ultrasounds, and constant doctor visits. I had gestational diabetes, so I was shooting insulin into my stomach three times a day and eating a relatively carb-free diet. I had to have a semi-emergency C-section, where the nurse failed to give me enough dextrose before my epidural, which resulted in me vomiting throughout the entire birth of my child. Instead of cuddling my new infant post-op, I was rushed to some sort of ICU where my body temperature plummeted dangerously and I lay there drifting in and out of consciousness, shivering for four hours despite the special heated blankets heaped upon me.

What kind of material object could possibly compensate me for all of that? And mine is by no means the worst pregnancy/birth story out there.

Ahhh, now that’s more like it. I think I shall call it St. Glinda’s.

I don’t know why no one ever told me the truth. But I would now like to bring the truth out in the open, for all to see. I consider it my duty and a public service. You’re welcome.

When I brought my newborn home, I thought all was perfect and well with the world. And it was. For the first eight hours.

Then it became apparent that my life would never be the same.

Awww, Glinda, you are saying to yourself. Of course, a child changes your life in such a wonderful way! Such a wonderful, permanent way!

Well yes, there is all that with the bond you have with your offspring, yadda, yadda, yadda.

However, the permanent change that I’m referring to is that of not getting enough sleep. That is the change that no one bothered to tell me about. And if you ask me, it’s a rather important one.

(more…)

I offer you the above illustrations from the new modern fairy tale ”My Beautiful Mommy.”*

It’s the heartwarming story of a sad Mommy who thinks she isn’t good enough the way she is. Why, she’ll never be crowned Mrs. MILF America if her tummy is so flabby and her boobs so droopy!  So in comes the big, buff Plastic Surgery Fairy to make Mommy all better. 

But, Mommy and the Plastic Surgery Fairy want to make sure that the little girl knows that Mommy coming home all bruised, bandaged, and unable to move doesn’t mean that she got hurt!  Oh no!  It just means that Mommy got prettier!

This book is a must-read for all Mommies who care about their impressionable young kids!

*Currently being sold at all finer plastic surgery offices nationwide.  Pick up your copy today!

Yesterday, after battling a 102 fever and various other bodily indignities over the weekend, I was faced with one of the ultimate tests of motherhood.

Could I, after eating approximately three and a half pieces of bread (no crust, please!) over the course of two days, drag myself out of bed and get the Munchkin to school?

The short answer?

No.

The long answer?

When a five year old jumps on your bed and takes the covers off of you, you would have to be comatose to not react in some fashion.  So, I steeled myself to the fact that I needed to get this boy to school.  Not out of some altruistic educational principle, but just to get him out of my hair for the next three hours. 

So I trudged into the kitchen to make him his oatmeal, wishing that I could also partake of some type of sustenance without my stomach protesting in various sorts of ugly ways, and sat at the table watching him eat.

And that was as far as I could go.

There is no tale of internal fortitude that enabled me to get him ready, myself ready, and then drive him to school.  That I dug deep down and found the strength do to what needed to be done for the good of my child. There is no heartwarming fable with a happy ending of how a good mother will always get her child to school, regardless of whatever physical ailments she is suffering from.

You will have to go elsewhere to find that type of tale.  

Over here, there is just the story of a mom with the best of intentions who winds up passed out on the couch while her kid watches Scooby-doo and plays Webkinz.

Good times, my friends.  Good times.

Have I mentioned before that I am a lipstick junkie?  I have been known to have in my posession over twenty or so lipsticks at a time.  It’s a sickness, I know.  But at least I’m not hurting anybody but myself.  Or perhaps my pocket book.

But, I kind of like to think that it makes me somewhat knowledgeable about what constitutes a good lipstick.

For me, it means one that is creamy, has good coverage, (yet isn’t overly heavy on the pigment) and most importantly,  that it leaves a bit of color on my lips.  Because even though I like expensive lipsticks, I am cheap enough to think that if I spend twenty bucks or so on one, that it should at least stain my lips for the rest of the day.

Vincent Longo happens to make an excellent lipstick, with all of the attributes above.  I really like the fact that it stains my lips for basically the rest of the day.  So even though the shine is gone, my lips still retain some color. And, it even has SPF 15!

My shade is Foolish Virgin, but there are lots of great ones to choose from.  Here are some color samples:

Nude                    Genasai               Eve Rose

The other day I categorized myself as a “soccer mom.”

Actually, I would like to retract that statement.  That statement was written for satirical purposes only.  There are many, many soccer moms around here, and I know exactly what they are like.

I happen to think that I don’t qualify as a soccer mom, and here’s why.

10.  I’m simply too lazy to be running around all the time.

9. I don’t own a honkingly large SUV or minivan which renders me unable to park properly.

8. I don’t have a cell phone on which I can chat obnoxiously.  Well, technically I do, but my husband has it all the time so it doesn’t count.

7. My child only attends one extracurricular activity. No Mandarin or violin lessons over here.  But the Munchkin has approximately 3,000 Legos, which has to count for something, right?

6. I’m not upper class.  At least, I’m not sure if I am.  However, I’m of the mind that it runs along the same principle of finding out what something costs.  If you have to ask, then you aren’t.

5. I don’t drink coffee, which kicks me out of the club right there.

4. I don’t wear my high heeled boots and designer outfits, complete with matching purse and sunglasses, when I take my son to his lone activity.  

3.  I’m pretty sure my house isn’t clean enough, big enough, or decorated well enough.

2. Politicians don’t care what I think.

1. My kid doesn’t play soccer.