Teeny Manolo: Celebrating the Joys of Parenting and Childhood - Part 18

OK, So…

March 8th, 2012
By Glinda

Let me tell you about how I hate computer viruses.  I had a doozy hit me on Monday evening sometime, and it was one of those where you couldn’t even start your browser to look for how the hell to get rid of it.  I had two different antivirus programs running that didn’t catch the rootkit (which equals really bad) and it allowed eighty billion other trojans and other things into my computer.  Man, did I have a headache for two days.  But, all fixed now!

I read this article about a teacher at a California middle school who allegedly was in an “adult movie,” and was found out by some students, and placed on leave.

Now, I try to think of myself who is enlightened about the adult entertainment industry.  I mean, it’s there.  Boy, is is ever there.  And I don’t have anything against adult entertainment workers, and indeed I am of the thought that prostitution should be legalized.


As much as I hate to admit it, if I found out that this person was teaching my son, I don’t think I would react so magnanimously.  I wouldn’t be calling for her resignation or anything, but I always think of what would happen if many years down the road my son were to see his former teacher in a certain type of film and what the psychological ramifications of that would be.

Maybe they wouldn’t be much of anything, but I just wouldn’t want to go there.

But then we get into the whole thing of private time outside of one’s occupation, and nobody wants to go back to the days when teachers couldn’t marry because that meant (gasp!) they would be having relations with their husband and ohmygod the world would explode.  And of course, that didn’t happen.

I know it is unfair of me to think that the teacher probably shouldn’t have allegedly starred in that type of film, but I honestly can’t help it.

Let me know if I’m alone in my prudishness.

And let’s not even get into the fact that it was some students who tipped off administration about the teacher’s film exploits.

Monday Teeny Poll

March 5th, 2012
By Glinda

It’s a tie! An equal number of you both hate and love the Oscars.  28% gave a big “meh.”  Which taken overall, is a bad sign for the Oscars.  I’m somewhere in the middle, but I think it has a lot to do with being born and raised in Los Angeles, there’s a sort of hometown pride thing going on.  We don’t have a football team, but dammit, we’ve got the Oscars!

Attachment parenting has been around for a while, and it seems to be a topic which raises similar feelings to the Oscar telecast.  It’s all about co-sleeping, wearing your baby, and breastfeeding.  OK, well, there is more but you get the picture.  People seem either hate it, love it, or couldn’t care less.

Mountain or Molehill?

March 1st, 2012
By Glinda

I went to Tarjay recently and bought my daughter some sippy cups.  I needed new ones because although she loves the kind with the straws, she has chewed said straws down to the nub.  So I decided to just get the latest in technology “unspillable” kind, especially as she has a penchant for dumping water all over the floor and my leather furniture.

The cups were on the lowest rung of the display, and one cup was orange and one cup was pink.  I definitely noticed animals on one cup, and only quickly glanced at the other one. Whatever, it was pink.  As long as both of them weren’t pink, I was good.

Until I got home and opened the package.

OK, ignore the purple cup. Do you see the graphics on the pink one? It’s got a purse, a makeup brush, a compact, and a mirror, among other things.

Am I wrong to think that this is just a bit too mature for a two year old?

I love makeup. I write a beauty blog. My daughter enjoys watching me put makeup on.

But it just seems wrong.


Before my surgery, I was given a folder with various directions on how to prep for the upcoming knife to the throat.  I say that literally.

Among the papers in the folder was an Advance Directive.  For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it is basically instructions to the hospital on your wishes if you were to become incapacitated or gravely ill.

Trust me, it wasn’t a fun exercise.  I went over all the questions with my husband, asking him his preference on some of the items, such as if he would want to be the sole person who determined if I was go go off life support.  This was no walk in the park stuff, but something necessary and something I realized I should have filled out a very long time ago.

Of course the surgery and the thought of going under general anesthetic was enough to scare me into doing one, but who knows what will happen to us from day to day?

An advance directive should not be just the provenance of the elderly. One minute we can be perfectly fine and the next day we could be in a coma because someone hit us with their car.  It doesn’t always have to be a foreseeable event.

OK, enough of me being a downer.

Just go and do it.  Going somewhere like here can help, as each state has different rules regarding advanced directives.

Your family will thank you.

And if you don’t believe me, just go and see The Descendants.


Monday Teeny Poll

February 27th, 2012
By Glinda

Well, it looks like we have a bunch of people who don’t classify themselves as extroverts or introverts, but somewhere in between.  Well, I cant’ argue with the 58% who chose that answer, because I’m the same way.  I think to most people I would appear to be an extrovert, but I definitely need my down time, preferably with a book.  33% chose to label themselves as more introverted, and only 8% felt they were social butterflies.

Tonight as my husband and I were fast-forwarding through the Oscar telecast, the Munchkin came out of his room and asked what we were watching.  I told him we were watching an awards show.  Blank look.  For people who make movies.  Even more blank of a look if that’s possible.  “Sounds dumb,”  he said.

Celebrity Dad Faceoff 2.0

February 24th, 2012
By Glinda

It has come to my attention that I suck.

OK, well, it has come to my attention that I posted a picture of someone I thought was Ben Browder, but was not.  I must have been blinded by the abs.  Thanks to both Seana (who thought I was wrong) and Kathleen (who KNEW I was wrong).

So in order to address the whole debacle, I am going to post a picture of the REAL Ben Browder (thanks again, Kathleen) for you to vote upon.

The real Ben Browder will be facing off against Freddie Prinz Jr, who won our last CDF by a respectable margin.


During the recuperation period from my surgery, I am not ashamed to admit that I read some Young Adult Fiction.

The Hunger Games, to be precise.

I had bought the e-book versions because a) I am a geek, b) I just had to know what all the fuss was about, and c) I was sort of hoping that the Munchkin would be able to read them also.  And any writing that falls into the YA category is vetted by me personally before he gets to read it.  I don’t think he needs to stumble upon some description of two teens having sexual relations at the age of 9.  There will be plenty of that in the years to come, I’m sure.

Uh, OK, I was just really distracted by that last sentence and reminded of my friend who has vowed never to talk to her son about sex.  Ever.  She cannot wrap her mind around the fact that our sons will be hitting puberty sooner rather than later.

Anyhoo, I burned through all three books in about four days, between snoozing sessions.

And now, pathetically, I cannot wait to see the movie.

Yeah, all the 14 year olds and I will be lining up at midnight.

And here I thought I had escaped all that by not reading any of the Twilight books.


1. Be angry.

2. Be momentarily glad that at least she didn’t lock herself in the room.

3. Banish the thought that at least you could have had some alone time if she had.

4. Be upset that she also closed the sliding glass door that you had previously opened and would have allowed access in less than one minute. IF she hadn’t closed it. And locked it, also.

5. Bemoan the fact that you do indeed have to use the bathroom sometimes.

6. Attempt to open door with credit card.

7. Be angry when it doesn’t work.

8. Be angry that you don’t have the key (and in fact, have never had the key to open the lock).

9. Attempt to open door with paper clip.

10.  Be really angry when that doesn’t work either.

11. Call your husband and calmly ask if he has any suggestions, scoff at the idea that waiting until 9pm for him to get home and open it is a good idea. This is specifically because this is the room said toddler needs to fall asleep in at 7pm.

12. Search the whole of the internets for various McGyver-y solutions, all of which fail miserably.

13.  After spending a solid hour and a half trying to unlock the door, give up.

14. Stop being angry because it really isn’t doing you any good.

15. Suddenly realize that there are such things as locksmiths and give one a call.

16. Be momentarily embarrassed that you have to borrow some cash from your nine year old.

17. Not regret spending $65.00 for the locksmith to take two minutes to open your door. Not even for a second.

Disclaimer: Manolo the Shoeblogger is not Manolo Blahnik

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