A barnacle here and there

Had a whirlwind of a Christmas.

Some fun in the snow.

Sleigh rides.

Santa parties

Decorations

Cookies

And presents galore.

Now, I stand here in an ocean of discarded wrappings and bows, fighting a post-holiday bug.

I was just about to put my feet up when I heard a little voice…

“Mamma Talk….Mamma talk…..Mamma talk….”

Was that my blog calling to me?

Don’t leave me… Don’t leave me… Don't leave me...

So, I paid her a visit. It had been awhile.

Here she was, floating belly up, unattended, afloat on the bloggy seas. Barnacles were growing here and there and, at first glance, I thought there was little hope.

I immediately dove in and gave her a little resuscitation.

After a moment, she stood up on her shaky, spindly legs. She stretched and shook her head. Then, she wasted no time in chastising me for my neglect. She waggled her finger at me, hand on hip and eyes a glare.

She showed no mercy. Just would not let me up for air. She cursed my laziness and ripped into me venomously.

Yes. I know.

She’s a pistol.

But, the way I look at things, a blog's gotta have a little bite. So, in this case, I think I'll roll with the bloggy punches.

Give it your best shot, Mamma!





Got a couple of monkeys yourself? Looking for some bunkbeds? Be sure to check out this site.

Vintage Blogging

It’s not every day that somebody leaves a comment suggesting I update my blog.

“Don’t people usually at least upgrade their header every once in a while?” ~anonymous

Well, let me formally respond.

We roll with the old school here on Mamma Talk.

We happily present a vintage blog.

We are classic. Timeless. Retro.

Are the columns too skinny? Well, scroll down, the way we did it back in the day!

Wondering where the tabs are? Don’t got none. Easy!

And, we are in mint condition, mind you. ‘Still in the package’. That’s us.

To suggest Mamma talk is outdated…. that she’s rubbing elbows with the dinos…..and perhaps even hinting that we’re not with it?

Are we old-ish around the gills, are we?

Think we run an old fashioned gig?

Type type type type type type type type type type type typeCHING!
Type type type type type type type type type type type typeCHING!

Are you saying our technical
S
K I
L
L S are lacking?

That maybe we are a bit CLuelEss, even?

That the Mamma is not aging gracefully?

Well, I beg to differ.

We may not be a trendsetter. But, we rise above the trends.

‘Cuz we run a classy joint here.

And a classy broad always acts her age!

Dolly Hair Salon

“Mamma, I can’t find her hair brush!”

“Her hair brush?”

Silly of me to ask.

The doll’s nylon hair was standing on end, horrifically tangled and slightly gummy on one side. It was clear her grooming had been a tad bit overlooked.

“You’ll have to sort this one out on your own,” I said gently, before mentally adding, “….seeing that you were most likely the cause of this tendril travesty.”

I handed over a wide toothed comb and quickly extracted myself from the sticky scenario. I actually managed to enjoy a few moments to myself twittering around before my suspicions were aroused.

I suppose the endless running water should have sounded my alarm.

Not sure why the muffled giggles emanating from the upstairs bathroom didn’t quickly prick my ear.

What finally did lure me in was my three year’s old request for more of my fancy conditioner.

More?

In the end, the rest of my day was spent mopping a soapy floor and setting a dolly’s hair with my new hair curlers.

I figure, if she’s going to use half a bottle of my most expensive conditioner, we might as well give her the whole salon package.

Besides, there’s nothing like mile high hair on a naked Happy Holidays Barbie.

Book Review

I was given permission to post a selection from the book, Bending Toward the Sun by Leslie Gilbert-Lurie. The author suggests ways to create important conversations with our parents. Hopefully, for those who still have the chance, this will help create some fun chat over turkey.

15 Conversations to Have with Your Parents
By Leslie Gilbert-Lurie
Author of Bending Toward the Sun: A Mother and Daughter Memoir

For readers who still have the chance, there may be no greater gift you can give yourself and your children than to know more about your parents' early years. Sometimes the opportunity to ask questions simply presents itself, perhaps at a family reunion, or in a relaxed setting on vacation. But for many, it will not. I've found that since my memoir of my mother and I, Bending Toward The Sun, came out, people have told me that they wish they had asked their parents more questions about their pasts. We often have to pro-actively initiate these probing, more intimate conversations, which are not always in our comfort zones.

However the opportunity arises, what follows are 15 suggestions that will help open up these important discussions among family members.

1. Create a family tree with your mother, father, or both. Ask them to tell you everything they know about your ancestors, including birthplaces and important dates in their lives.



2. Ask your mother or father to describe his or her primary childhood home. Perhaps he or she can go on to tell you about a particularly happy memory of an event that took place there, and a painful memory as well.

3. Ask your parent what books, movies, and music were his or her favorite as a child. You can then move from there to ask about current favorite books or movies.

4. Childhood heroes provide a rich topic of conversation. Ask your parents who their childhood heroes were. Again, you can move from childhood to present day and explore whom they most admire and why.

5. Explore the family vacations your parents took as a child. Ask about where they particularly liked to go, and whether there were any trips they disliked.

6. Try and discover what the rules were in your mother's or father's family, and which of these rules, if any, they felt were unfair. Also use this opportunity to learn what responsibilities your parents had as children, and how these contributed to the people your parents evolved into.

7. Inquire about the things your parents wanted to do as children but could not because your grandparents wouldn't allow them to, they were unaffordable, or your parents did not possess the talent or skills to do them.

8. Ask your parents what questions they wish they had asked their own parents but never did.

9. It is not always easy to ask parents about their own fears, but it provides a good opportunity for mutual understanding. Ask your mother or father what he or she was afraid of as a child and about what he or she fears most today.

10. Ask your father or mother to describe a crush he or she had, or a special teenage romance.

11. Explore how your parents perceived themselves as children. Ask them how they thought adults and peers viewed them, and which aspects of these perceptions were accurate or inaccurate.

12. Ask your parents what first attracted them to each other, and what they most respect or respected in the other. If they are no longer married to one another, see if they will discuss what drove them apart and why.

13. Probe into the highs and lows of your parents' lives. Ask about their proudest accomplishments and greatest disappointments. If they had one thing to do over in life up to this point, what would it be and why?

14. While they are reflecting, ask your mother or father what they would most want to be famous for, if they were destined to be famous for something.

15. Don't miss the opportunity to explore how your parents view you. Ask your parents what about you reminds them of themselves at the same age. Ask what they are proudest of in you. And, if you are feeling particularly comfortable by that point in the conversation, ask if they have any questions to for you.
Most people have neither the time nor the desire to spend a decade writing a memoir about a parent or close family member, as my mother and I had the opportunity to do. But even a couple hours spent exploring the past with a parent could provide new and deeper appreciation and understanding. Moreover, a few pages of heart-felt answers could be very satisfying and useful to future generations.
©2010 Leslie Gilbert-Lurie, author of Bending Toward the Sun: A Mother and Daughter Memoir


Author Bio
Leslie Gilbert-Lurie, author of Bending Toward the Sun, is a writer, lawyer, teacher of Holocaust Studies, child advocate, and former executive at NBC. Leslie Gilbert-Lurie is a member and past president of the Los Angeles County Board of Education, a founding member and past president of the non-profit Alliance for Children’s Rights, and a board member and co-chair of the Education Committee for the Los Angeles Music Center. She has been a recipient of the American Jewish Congress’s Tzedek Award for Outstanding Commitment to Civil Rights, Civil Liberties, and Justice, and the Alliance for Children’s Rights Child Advocate of the Year Award. This year she will be honored in Los Angeles by Facing History and Ourselves, for her work as a writer and teacher.

She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two teenage children. For more information please visit her website at http://www.bendingtowardthesun.com

Get Your Freak On...

My girls like to bounce.

I turn on some music…

And they bounce.

They laugh and scream, too.

And run.

But, they mostly bounce.

They are most serious about the fun to be had.

There’s an immediacy in their actions.

A passion and zest that is just bursting from their insides out.

Lots of present moment thinking.

And joy.

No worries about the temper tantrum from earlier this morning.

No concern about the doctor appointment of tomorrow.

Just a passion for the bouncing and screaming and running back and forth

Deliriously

Across the floor

Over and over

Kinda makes me want to get my freak on, too.

‘Cuz I’m groovy like that.

Bow-chicka-bow-wow

In a Mamma Minute....

“So, how long is a minute exactly?” My five year old was eyeing me over her cereal.

I was deep into blogging, throwing her my usual stalling tactic. “In a minute. Darling!”

She continued her questioning. “Is a minute little or big?”

Hmmmmm?

Depends, doesn’t it?

Right now, it was medium-ish.

Later, while I’m on the phone, I am most certain it could be quite long-ish. And, when my nose is deep in a book, it might be a trifle longer even.

Mostly, of course, I like to think minutes are rather short in this house.

But, when I tried to remember when I last had a rendezvous with a short minute, I was at a loss…

Maybe minutes of the miniature kind were no more.

Defunct. Extinct. Banned, even.

The shame.

Well, that settles it.

No more minutes of any variety allowed in this house.

“In a second, darling!”

Might be hard to follow through. But I’m always up for a challenge.

Besides, a certain person of the miniature variety certainly deserves it.

Curse of the Good Girl Book Review

I was asked to review The Curse of the Good Girl by Rachel Simmons. This author wrote the popular Odd Girl Out-The Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls. If you are a mother to daughters, you need to read this book. She discusses fear of conflict, honest communication and people pleasing. This book brought to light some of the things I was modeling to my daughters in my day to day interactions. It is full of practical advice that will help teach your child emotional and social intelligence. This book is a terrific read that will help us build the next generation of strong women. I encourage all moms to read! I was allowed to reprint this article by Rachel Simmons, which gives an inside look to the book.




Breaking the Curse of the Good Girl: 5 Ways Moms Can Help Girls Be Themselves
By Rachel Simmons,
Author of The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence

1. Get in touch with your inner Goof
Girls of all ages say they're most in touch with their true selves when they're being silly, crazy, loud, or goofy. By late elementary school, your daughter is likely to hear peers deem silliness "lame" or "immature;" these girls perceive that acting older will make them cooler. When girls shut down silliness, they restrain themselves physically. They begin disconnecting from who they are in order to try to be something they're not. Step in to fill the void and keep silliness alive. Whether it's singing in the car at the top of your lungs, dancing like no one's watching in the kitchen, or making ridiculous faces and noises, just do it: let go of the "be perfect" rules and dork out together. There is no more powerful antidote to the pressure to be perfect than a Mom who can burp the alphabet.

2. Say no and speak up
Your daughter lives in a world that tells her Good Girls are nice 24/7, no exceptions. In a peer culture that avoids conflict, girls don't get permission or learn skills to say no. These are crucial muscles you want your daughter to have: the ability not just to know what she's feeling, but to act on it. Think about the last time your daughter heard you speak up and challenge something or someone. Show her how it's done: assertively and with respect. Warning: expect embarrassment. I used to want to throw myself under a bus when my mom sent cold French fries back to a restaurant kitchen for re-heating. Fifteen years later, I sent them back myself -- and thanked my Mom for the permission she gave me.

3. Get comfortable with your limits
Good Girls are expected to be flawless: not a hair out of place or math problem wrong. All that pressure can make a girl terrified of mistakes. The next time you screw up, gauge your reaction and consider the example it sets. Find your sense of humor if you can. Barring that, avoid labeling yourself in front of her ("I'm such an idiot") or making sweeping predictive statements ("I'll never get this right"). Point out the silver lining of your mistakes (there's always at least one). Show her errors aren't the end of the world. Bonus point: Take healthy risks with or in front of her. Anxious about that first spinning class? Worried about that next leap at work? Take it, and tell her about your nerves. Even if it doesn't pan out, she is watching a mother who's willing to fail. No one makes it big by playing it safe, and your example will give her permission to take the risks that yield the most exhilarating rewards.

4. Be a little selfish
The Perfect Mom culture is suffocating. It suggests truly good mothers put everyone's needs before their own. But the rules of being a Perfect Mom are directly at odds with the example most women want to set for their daughters. Laurie's 12 year old confronted her. "Mom," she said, "Why don't you go to that dance class you want to take? All you do is take care of us." Laurie was horrified. "What kind of example was I setting? That my life is all about everyone else?" She made it a point to take the class -- even if it meant not being there to drive every carpool shift or help with homework. Letting your children down isn't easy, but the long-term, big picture message they get is: I've got a mother who takes care of herself and leads a balanced life. In other words, one of the best gifts you can give your daughter is to take something for yourself.

5. Share Your Feelings
Myth: Just because girls have lots of feelings means they're really good at knowing and expressing them. Truth: Not only do girls often struggle to know what they're feeling; many describe feelings as nuisances that make you look lame or weak, just like boys! Girls who communicate their feelings let others know what they need and are less likely to lose control over their behavior. What you can do: use emotion words in front of your daughter to model your comfort and build her own emotional vocabulary. Say how you're feeling (remembering to leave out the stuff daughters shouldn't hear, like "I am feeling really angry at your father"). Ask her how she's feeling. Instead of asking, "How was your day?" try "How are you feeling?" If she says "Fine," say, "Fine-happy? Fine-worried? Fine-excited?" Knowing and saying how you feel is a powerful channel to our true selves, not to mention successful relationships.

© 2010 Rachel Simmons, author of The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence

Author Bio
Rachel Simmons is the author of New York Times bestseller Odd Girl Out: The Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls. She is the founding director of the Girls' Leadership Institute. She lives in Brooklyn, New York.

For more information please visit www.rachelsimmons.com and follow the author on Facebook and Twitter.

Sweet A$$ Time

Sometimes, I waste time.

It’s not that I have a problem with it or anything. Actually, I’m rather fond of time, especially if it’s free and has my name written all over it.

Truthfully, I’m an enormous fan of time. I obsessively keep track of it with my schedules and calendars. I monopolize it. I wonder how it got away from me. And, I always want more of it.

If I could, I’d recycle it. ‘Cuz I’m green like that.

I’d re-do it ‘til I got it right. Those precious moments would get recycled over and over- Christmas mornings, birthdays and endless summer days.

I’d even reduce time a bit- throw away those ugly moments that are cowering in the closet.

I used to be pretty aggressive in my approach to time. (See “Wanted Dead or Alive- My Free Time”).

Now, as the girls are getting older and I have a few moments to myself while they’re in preschool and kindergarten, I have learned spare time does come….well….. in good time.

So, maybe I should re-phrase “wasting time”.

I’m not wasting it.
I’m savoring it.
Doing nothing. Feet up. With some chocolate.

Ahhh….It’s about time.
Don’t ‘cha think?


Sure took its sweet a$$ time, though.

Mail Order Frog

I couldn’t believe it.

The frog had returned.

While taking out the garbage, I, once again, discovered a fat little frog huddled behind the trash cans, eyeing me nervously.

“Is that you again, buddy?”

He blinked. I took that as a yes.

“Did your lady give you the boot?”

He hopped towards me. Another yes.

“Need some help with another hook up?”

He stared silently, head cocked sideways. Maybe?

“Cuz there’s another pond around the block. I could take you over there, introduce you to the ladies.”

He hopped on my shoe. Don’t think I need to translate that.

So, that’s how I ended up as a froggy matchmaker. See, I’ve always had a thing for the underfrogs of the world.

Makes for a busy day…

“This matchmaker’s working overtime, fellas. Take a number. ALL tadpoles in the back of the line. No line jumping. No pushing. No shoving. No cutting. And, what’s with the grasshopper in the back? I don’t work with the creepy, crawly types, bud! You’re on your own.”

Taleidoscope review

What is it about Kaleidoscopes that capture the imagination? It's such a classic toy any boy or girl would love. It's also a timeless piece that looks impressive sitting atop a desk. A perfect stocking stuffer or a birthday surprise, too!

I was asked to review this beautiful, hand crafted, wooden taleidoscope recently. Of course, my little gals and I were over the moon to get our eyeballs on this handsome toy.

What is a taleidoscope? I wondered that, too.

It is very much like a kaleidoscope, but instead of seeing glitter or multicolored confetti, you see whatever image is in front of you. Of course, the image is morphed hundreds of times.

This particular model is made of beautiful solid laminated wood and is available for engraving.

It makes for some fun and what a gorgeous piece! Thank you Kaleidoscopes to you for supplying us with such a gorgeous toy!

A bit of a mess...

Apparently, my makeup bag had been compromised.

Loose powder sprinkled the floor, an uncapped lipstick stood teetering on its head, and a liner had been formally introduced to a lash curler. My toddler sat amongst the mess clutching a powder puff and wearing a grin.

“Mommy, I beautiful…….just like Cinderella!”

I inhaled deeply, aghast at the mess. But, fortunately, I had a light bulb of a moment and made a quick recovery.

In my highest voice, I channeled her fairy godmother.

“Oh, Cinderella, whatever did you do?
Bippity boppity boo.
Here, kid, this paper towel is for you…”

She looked at me quizzically, glittery lashes fluttering.
I added emphasis, using a nearby toothbrush as a wand and took my voice up another notch.

“Clean up the goo.
Here’s a tissue.
You may be just two
But, it’s certainly true
You can help mommy too
(Was that lipstick new?
Oh, Boo-Hoo!)
Bippity boppity boo!”

Before she knew it, my little one had a broom in one hand and a paper towel in the other. She was a one woman musical cleaning crew, scrubbing the floor and happily hopping about to my directions.

See? Add a little Disney to anything and you get an instant solution.

That guy was a genius.



Looking for free diamond stud earrings? Just got these gorgeous babies in the mail.

A little froggy luck

I discovered a frog hiding behind our trash can in the garage this morning.

He sat there cowering by the wall, golden eyes glued on me and a quick heartbeat in his chest. I tried to calm the panicky creature.

"You're OK, Bud."

Soon, Mr. Froggie had two more sets of eyes upon him.

"Mommy, what's the Frog Prince doing by the trash?"

"Froggy! Froggy!"

I explained that the frog had lost his way and needed a helping hand.

My gals were quick to search the garden for toadstools and lily pads, but came back empty handed. At a loss for what to do, my oldest suggested a nice, cozy box set up in her room.

In the end, however, we decided to release the critter close to a neighbor's pond. It must have been from here that he had escaped earlier.

"He's one lucky little frog!" My daughter observed.

As the sticky creature leaped to the edge of the pond, I could have sworn he looked over his shoulder to throw us an appreciative glance.

And, maybe I was seeing things, but I thought I saw another pair of golden eyes peering from the mossy pond, frilly eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously.

"You're right. He is one lucky guy." I agreed with my daughter.

And, I suspect he's going to get luckier as the evening progresses.

Ribbit!

You're welcome!

Hey, bud, what's the big idea?

Don’t you love it when a fabulous idea lands right in your lap?

It floats down out of nowhere, bright eyed and bushy tailed, eager to roll up its sleeves and get to work. It lends a hand where needed. Ingenuity and quick thinking are its tools of trade.

As for you?

Well, you gleefully surrender yourself to the fruit of its efforts, watching from a distance. Your feet are up with glass in hand as you watch it slave away, nose to grindstone.

“Now, there’s an idea!” you say, patting it on the back encouragingly.

You are the envy of others.

“Where do you get your great ideas?”

You inspire green eyed envy even from even your nearest and dearest friends.

“Wish I was the one who came up with that great idea!”

Every once in a while, you get a lemon of an idea, who, despite its best efforts, mucks things up, prompting some snide remarks….

“Hey, bud! What’s the big idea!?”

But, most of the time, those great ideas come from nowhere, are eager to please and are the most useful creatures to happen upon.

Serving as your indentured servant, they advance a home or work project, bloom a business and chase the heels of opportunity. These nifty creatures know how to light up a room. And, isn’t it particularly sweet when they not only pay a visit, but bring a knapsack and stay for an extended while?

Ever happen to you?

Yeah…umm……well, me neither.

Today I Am 2!!

Today, Mamma Talk is turning two!

She has emerged from her infancy and is now running steadily into her terrible twos…. tantrums, teething, potty training and all…

When I think back to that day I labored Mamma talk into existence, fiddling with Blogger and struggling with Twitter, I never could have imagined this day.

I merely thought this was a small experiment, a strange hobby that I didn’t totally get, a fad that would see its better day. But, I kept tending to this small, sometimes dusty corner of the blogosphere.

Along the way, I’ve met some lovely friends, written many posts…..both good and bad.

And, in the end, I kinda hung in there. Sure, I bellyached.

I complained that I had nothing to say.

That it was the wrong season to blog.

That I was just too preoccupied to keep up….

And, had better things to do….

‘Cuz that’s what blogging is about.

Now, we have two flickering pink candles on this birthday cake and a proud toddler blogger eager for what awaits us…on the bloggy seas!

Thank you for reading! A big thank you to those of you who actually took the guided tour of old posts! Took me awhile to link to all of them!

Potty Me? Yes! Potty You!

Is there a light at the end of this potty training tunnel?

Because I feel like I’m sitting here alone and lost in this dark and dismal tunnel with a fistful of damp matches.

…Hoping beyond hope that the tide will turn...Dreaming of potty victory…Praying to the ceramic gods…

I have cajoled. I have bribed. I have waited. I have charted.

Finally, only to turn the other cheek…ahem.

However, I have learned that sometimes when you’re frustrated and over wrought…And, when you just can’t take it anymore as you are swirling down the drain hole of mamma madness…

Magic can occur…

“Bippity boppity boo…
Here’s some potty magic for you…”

FLUSH!

With all of the creatures lurking in my home,(here, here, here) why I hadn’t considered putting in a call to my Potty Godmother, I will never know. But, there she stood. She was dressed in magic fairy blue with a sparkling wand held high over the pot.

“Next time, child, give the Potty Godmother a call.
Buns are my expertise. I guide them. I train them. I get them to sit.
I show them. I teach them. I get them to sh*t.
You see, it’s my trade. My line of work.
Gimme a call before mom goes beserk.”

She left me with her business card and a feel for her wit.

Priscella, Potty GodMother
1-800-U2-CAN-SH*T

Put Up Your Dukes!!

The hysterics began slowly, building gradually and then peaked with one sharp, explosive piercing SCREECH!

Now, mind you, the panic would have been contained if the furry legged, multi-eyed beast of an arachnid had stayed in his corner of the tub.

But, oh, no.

This fierce bug had postured himself into a threatening stance. Perched on his hind legs, front legs balled into a fist, Spidey eyeballs rolling…..

And, pinchers pinching.

Not sure what this fella had in mind.

Guess he figured he could take me.

Maybe even thought I had it coming.

Perhaps he had planned to teach me a lesson.

Gimme a taste of my own medicine.

Serve me a knuckle sandwich even.

Typically, I am not one to back down from a fight. But, I just couldn’t see myself locking horns with this critter. Just not my thing.

I scurried off, tail between my legs, to fetch my hubby.

Hubby stomped in with his size 10 boots, eager to provide a quick and easy, albeit messy, solution.

And, then, I re-considered.

“Wait!”

Hubby hesitated, boot hovering over my opponent, quizzical look on his face.

“Ah…..um….I mean.…well…” I attempted to explain my thoughts.

Hubby raised an eyebrow.

“Ya gotta admire the spunk,” I said.

“Go get a cup.”

And, tonight, somewhere in our garden, a lone soldier returns home to the village, full of tales of bath tubs and gentle giants.

“…And, so, I gave her the ol’ one, two…See?
Tryin’ to mess with the likes of me.
Ain’t happenin’ on my watch. No, sir!
Next time, I’ll clock her where it counts…”

Worry Shrew...

I am not a worry wart. Not me. No way. No how.

Me?

I am a worry shrew.

Yes, a worry shrew, complete with a wart, a snaggle tooth and a rolling, lazy eye.

I burn the midnight oil as I run endless circles, wringing my knobbly fingers and hissing my endless worries.

When I am in the thick of a spell, I scold. I curse. I growl and I spit.

Nothing soothes my prickly thoughts or calms my crabby demeanor.

Yes, I am a worry shrew.

As for those worry warts?

Well…..they’re just a bunch of sissies ….

Grrrrrrr…

'Twas a dozey kinda day....

We were having a dozy afternoon in the backyard

With Pappa in his swim trunks and I in my floppy hat.

Our gals were about to settle down

For a nice hammocky nap….

When out from our bedroom there arose such a clatter

I sprang from my lawn chair to see what was the matter

Away to the glass slider, I flew like a flash

Ran into the slider and felt like an a*s

My computer screen was emitting an eerie blue glow

And I began to shiver, sweat and scream, “Oh, Lord no…”

My very own Apple computer was yelling “COME HERE!!…

Your Mamma talk blog has been up all year.

Have you forgotten? Haven’t you ignored her enough?”

Then, my keyboard began to type up some stuff…

“You have a blog. A lonely blog, too.

She feels neglected and she’s feeling quite blue.”

Well, I tried to explain and I started to Boo-Hoo

“We were on vacation and the kids had the flu.

Besides, who blogs in the summer, see here for a clue.”

“’Enough,” screamed the ‘puter, “You know what to do!”

So, here I sit hoping and praying that this will do.

Some bad poetry and goofy off season fun.

Now, back to the wading pool. I was enjoying the sun!

Good, Clean Fun Review

My girls were thrilled to take a dip with this Dino-Fizz egg from Smith and Vandiver. Once this fizz bomb dissolved, a little Stegasaurus emerged! It was quite the science experiment…just add water and a couple Princess Paleontologists, of course.

Among the benefits..

-PH balanced to be gentle and non-irritating to skin and eyes
- Sulfate-free and non-toxic
- Phalate-free certified natural fragrance
- Paraben and formaldehyde free
- No colors, synthetic fragrances or animal by-products

We also sampled some Dino Bubbles. After all the roaring was complete, my girls went to bed, clean, soothed and ready for some dino dreams….A big thank you to Smith and Vandiver for supplying the samples!

Blueberry Bandit

My daughter is a blueberry bandit. True, she is passionate about most fruits.

But, blueberries?

Blueberries hold a special power over my little one. Yes, I am afraid blueberries have attained movie star status in our home.

A blueberry sighting is followed by screeching, shaking, and near hysterics.

“Booooberriesss!!”

I am afraid she is a bit of a blueberry groupie.

“I love boooberries.”

She’s proud President of the blueberry fan club, even.

“More booooberries?”

She’s quite possibly crossing the lines into blueberry stalking...

“Where’d the boooberry go?”

Some say she’s criminal in her passion.

“Sweetheart, let Mommy wipe that blueberry stain off your face.”

You don’t think this could lead to blueberry OCD, do you?

“Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.”

Could this pave the way to addiction?

“Can I score some ‘boo off ya, bro?”

Hubs and I thought about going cold turkey. Pull the blueberry plug. Cut off the supply. Bite the blueberry bullet and stop the blueberry madness once and for all.

Lasted a day.

“Staaawberries?”

The Show Must Go On!

“Hurry! The show is about to start!”

I grabbed hubby’s hand and led him to our seats. Luckily, we scored front row and center seating, atop overturned laundry baskets in the center of the playroom.

The lights were dimmed and Hello Kitty flashlights illuminated the dancers. The jewelry box music played again and again as the dancers twirled spontaneously.

“Bravo!” Pops and I shouted which, of course, led to more repetitive twirling and scarf flailing. The dancers were decked in their best show time gear with crooked tiaras slipping, fluffy boas bouncing and plastic Princess pumps flopping.

The energy was pumping, the clapping was escalating and the dancers were bouncing.

And, then a slip occurred. A purple boa became entangled around a Cinderella pump. A bit of a domino effect occurred, with dancers landing atop of dancers. Tiaras left their owners and shiny plastic beads spewed across the floor.

The audience sat with baited breath and a touch of knuckle biting.

However, much to the dismay of the silent and shocked crowd, a quick recovery was made.

Sure, they were a bit disheveled. Sure, they had to make due with broken do-dads and ruffled boas. Sure, they had to rustle up some quick thinking and unrehearsed hustling.

But, even in a pink, Princess playroom, the show must go on.

Encore!

A little dip

It’s been years since I’ve done anything of the sort.

But, now that I’ve given it a whirl, I’m in.

I spent the better half of the morning properly waterlogging the lower half of my body in our new wading pool in the backyard.

When my daughters first invited me into the inflatable hippo pool for a dip, I waved it off. I assumed there wasn’t room. Surely I’d manage to pop the poor thing. I shuddered at the thought of a neighbor peeking over the fence to discover me lodged between a water toy and a toddler, all white, jiggly and fully exposed.

Then, something overcame me. I threw my inhibitions to the wind and joined in the splashy, summery fun. The gals moved over and seemed to rather enjoy using my belly as a dock for their sailboats.

Seems things work out better when you sprinkle a little fun in your day….between the loads of laundry, I mean.

Gotta try it more often.

Go ahead. Dare ya.

Hullabaloo and the Hippo, too!!

Of course, I didn't mean to get caught up in the hullabaloo. I never planned for things to get so out of hand.

What began as a friendly game of Hungry Hippo between a father and his daughters turned into a rumpus.

I prefaced the game with a bit of a warning. "Check your competitive edge at the door, cowboy."

He nodded enthusiastically, apparently more than willing to throw the game, allowing the under 5 crowd to take all the glory.

As the game began, at first I thought he was just laying it on a little too thick.

"Give 'em a little fight, honey," I said as I refilled lemonades.

Didn't take me too long to figure out the beads of sweat and the vice grip on his designated hippo weren't for show. My honey couldn't get his game on. He was a rookie and he was getting his hiney handed to him.....in a hurry!

I quickly came to assist.

"It's all in the wrist."

"Don't snap the hippos mouth so quickly. Patience."

"Put your back into it!"

"For crying out loud. They're slaughtering you!!"

I just couldn't stand by watching it anymore.

Pushing him aside, I took the Hungry Hippo helm.

And, that's how we all ended up in the toy aisle at Target.

Apparently, too much vigor can jam a Hungry Hippo and put a bit of a damper on an evening.

Next time, we'll stick with Candyland. Don't think that game should get too sticky.

Razzle Dazzle

My girls were up to their elbows in the craft box. They had plans in the making. It would be the most glorious Father’s Day card. The Pappa of all Father’s day cards, actually.

Their glorious giggles bounced about the room as the glue dripped and the glitter scattered. Only the fanciest pens would be used. Care would be taken when sketching the stick figures. Glitter glue and leftover Christmas tinsel would serve as framing. And, one stray pink feather would complete the deal, glued atop daddy’s triangular pink head.

And their father’s reaction?

Papa puffed up with pride and promptly pinned the painting in a place of prominence. Then, he posed for a picture while pointing at his candid pictorial.

‘Cuz it takes a heck of a guy to look pretty in pink.


(And, please, people. I promised no posting of the pic, despite the peer pressure. Just a play by play. It seems Pops prefers privacy. My pardons!)

Congratulations to my winner of my first giveaway! Kat from My Girls and Me is the winner of the Magic Bullet. Thank you to everyone who entered!You all are the best!

A Reptilian Roll in the Hay

The toys were scattered all over the floor, evidence of a playful romp in the playroom.

However, I could make neither hide nor tails of the situation.

Barbie seemed to be cozying up to a scaly dino. In fact, she appeared to be joining him for an evening stroll. She had her hand around his reptilian neck and was leading him far from the herd.
Normally, I would give the guy credit for scoring out of his league. But, I really couldn’t see what she saw in the guy. His beady eyes were clearly up to no good and it was plain to see his gaze was rigidly glued to her….ahem.

And, my role in this, you ask? Should I supervise the activities, serving as a Mattel chaperone of sorts?

Pull out my whistle and ruler and take some kind of action?

Aren’t I, after all, the supervising parent?

Well, I did neither.

I averted my eyes, put it out of my mind, and turned on my heel.

‘Cuz this mamma’s off the clock.

And, by the looks of things, it’s going to be a long night.

Yowzza.

Don't forget to enter my Magic Bullet giveaway. Just a little thank you to all my bloggy friends out there. Hubs is eager to get it out of the living room, so the drawing will be on Monday, June 21.

Magic Bullet Giveaway

I am quite excited to host my very first giveaway! One lucky reader will get the chance to win the Magic Bullet, valued at $60.00. This amazing appliance is so handy, simple and easy to use. You’ll use it to make salsa, pasta sauce, milkshakes, margaritas, and decadent desserts. Chopping onions and mincing garlic has never been easier.


To enter, simply comment on this post.

For an extra entry…

*Follow me on Twitter
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Simple and easy. That’s how we like it here on Mammatalk.

In all her lizardy loveliness....

My toddler was struggling as she tried to shove the rubber lizard into the miniature bridal dress.

I assisted by pulling on one slimy lizard arm and yanking on its slippery reptilian head.

With some effort, we were able to adorn the little creature with the fairy tale perfect bridal gear complete with a veil and strap on high heels.

I have to admit, despite her greenish appearance, she did look lovely, in a lizard kind of way.

Sure, she was minus a groom and a ring, but she was in her moment.

She simply looked glorious.

Save the bug eating and slithering under rocks for another day. Today was her time to shine.

And, judging by the lavish looks she was getting from the creatures lurking in the dinosaur bin, she just may be the belle of ball.

Kinda got me all choked up.

Oh, Buddy! Oh, Pal!

“So, what’s your imaginary friend’s name?” asked my preschooler.

My imaginary friend?

The thought never occurred to me. Now, of course, I had a secret pal years ago as a child. She was great on rainy days and stuck to me like glue during that week with the chicken pox. Even helped out with homework and making the bed.

Hmmm…Maybe it’s time to re-connect.

“Hi, pal. It’s been years! How about you start a load of laundry while I unwind over here on the chaise lounge?”

“We’re outta milk…Oh…imaginary frieend! Buddy, oh, pal!”

“Put a little elbow grease into it, friend. Ya gotta show that mildew whose boss.”

“Me? Of course I didn’t eat the last one, darling. But, that invisible gal in the kitchen looks a little shifty to me.”

My imaginary friend…. She really helps a gal out in a pinch.

Now, if I can just get her to fetch me a glass of wine from my imaginary wine cellar while I lounge by my imaginary pool enjoying the imaginary view, life would be so very sweet.

As you can well imagine.

Sigh.

A big thank you to Stacks and stacks for the wonderful shout out today! I made her Top 5 Mommy blog list! You can see it here. Her site also lists wonderful tips on organizing.

Girls Vanity Review

My daughters and I were in the market for bathroom vanities.

The lil’ gals had amassed a collection of plastic baubles and jewels. Powder puffs and brushes. Purses and doo-dads. Sparkly clips and shimmery scarves.

Simply made sense to clear a cozy corner of their room for this number.

Now, if we could just prevent the magic marker from getting too chummy with her fine ivory surface, we can call it a day.

If you’re in the market for a similar set up for your emerging diva, be sure to check out this site here. You won’t be disappointed.

I haven't received products for my endorsement. However, plans are in the works....

Father Time, quit riding my a$$!!

Lately, Father Time has been riding my a$$. I told him to lay off, but the bugger just won’t let up. Seems he gets to call all the shots in the relationship. And, when I call him out, he’s nowhere to be found.

He’s one slippery fella. Scrappy, too. Always wins.

So, the thought occurred to me. Maybe I should hit him where it counts. Maybe I should have a little heart to heart with his better half. Call up his old lady and let her know what her hubby’s really been up to. Fill her in on every last dirty little secret.

I am sure she would like to know how he’s been messing with us ladies.

It didn’t take long to figure out who his wife is. It was pretty obvious, after all.

I almost got up the nerve. Almost picked up that phone, called her up and let it all hang out.

But, common sense got the better of me.

After all, it’s best not to mess with Mother Nature.

A gal could go grey overnight.

Toddler Pox

My doctor peered over his glasses as I whispered my secrets.

“I think something’s a little off with me lately.”

He leaned closer.

“I’m exhausted at the end of the day. I am distracted. I can’t seem to finish a sentence. I run circles in my home. I have a flabby belly, stretch marks and saggy boobs. I obsessively make macaroni and can’t break my Barney addiction.”

“Hmmm.” My doctor smiled knowingly. “My wife had a bout of this in the 80’s.”

“She did?” I felt instant relief. “What is it?”

“Toddler Pox,” he stated.

I gasped in horror. “Is there a cure?”

“No. No end to this. Rather, it evolves. It starts with Baby Pox. Then, Toddler Pox, of course. Preschool Pox is around the corner. Then you’ll catch a nasty case of Elementary Fever….giving way to The Tweenie Plague… graduating to the contagious Teenage-itis. We will have to quarantine during this time, naturally.” He paused reflectively.

Hands over my face, I took it all in as he continued. “It is cyclical, recurring every 25-35 years. But, for the second cycle, you serve more as a witness rather than a victim. Makes for interesting retirement years.”

“Don’t they inoculate for this?” I asked in outrage.

“The drug companies pushed for a vaccine, of course, but the diaper lobbyists have a strong grip on Washington.” He winked. “I have heard rumor about a certain doctor that can help.” He paused, scratching his head.

“His name is on the tip of my tongue,” he continued, “….Dr. Snik….no…Dr. Snitch….No. Um, that’s not it.….Snit….No,…..Snipity…Ah…yes….Doctor Snippy Snip. That’s him. This will stop a reoccurrence. If you can just get your husband in the car, they’ll fix him up good.”

Hmmmmm?

I was a Guest Blogger over at Natural and Organic bodycare. You've got to check out this blog for advice about organci beauty products and giveaways.

On vacation this week, folks! Off to the Happiest Place....Will let you know how it goes!

Stink Eye

So, he gave it to me. A rolling of the eye as I made my observation.

“You forgot to pick up the milk!” I said.

Then, my preschooler gave it to me when I was braiding her hair before preschool.

“Quit squirming around! I almost got it!”

My toddler was next.

“No more cookies before dinner, Missie!”

Even my furry friends were in on it. Not sure what set them off, but it’s easy to know when a cat gives it to ya.

Stink eye. Nothing’s worse.

But, there’s always a remedy.

Eyebrows knitted together. Eyes a rollin’. Lip a curlin’. Throw in a snarl.

Yep.

Right back at ‘cha!

A Slippery Slope

I had fully anticipated this. I had ample warning. It’s common knowledge, after all.

Who among us isn’t aware that, at some point in our lives, we all transform into our mother?

Before we know it, we open our mouths and out pops dear ol’ Mom.

Eat your veggies! Drink you milk! Look before you cross and, for God’s sake, be home by nine!

However, as worrisome as this may sound, I fear the worst for myself.

I think I may have leapfrogged a generation.

You see, I am becoming my grandmother.

It all started with the simple purchase of a pair of elastic waistband pants, which was quickly followed by the discreet purchase of yet another pair….and then another. They’re just so comfy.

Of course, it made perfect sense to pick up the extra wide sensible shoes that matched the elastic waistband pants. Couldn’t pass those up. Since I was already in the shoe section, I figured I might as well buy some knee high nylons that were marked down 75%. Only a fool would pass up a sale like that.

And, since I was on a roll, who could blame me for snatching up the cozy cardigan which completed the whole ensemble?

Should I go back for the clip on pearl earrings, ya think?

These days, my oversized handbag is full of clipped coupons, Kleenexes and a broken pair of reading glasses……. Oh, there’s my missing knitting needle!

The other day, I somehow mistakenly checked out a book from the library with extra large print.

And I didn’t return it. So darn easy on the eyes.

I’m kinda under the radar about all this, but I am beginning to see the wisdom in comfort and the folly in vanity.

Who likes creeping satin panties anyway? Or stiff underwire? Itchy lace? Teetering high heels?

Not me.

Old age. It’s a slippery slope.

Somebody toss me a line??

I’ll wait over here on my rocker for a spell. Gonna knit me an afghan for the childuns.

Tinker 'Tude

She laid there sprawled across the chess board, hair in disarray and wings slightly bent.

“Tink! What are you doing here?”

From what I gathered, there was some sort of mix up during an afternoon cleanup in the playroom. A bit of a misfiling occurred. A misplacement of sorts. A goof. And, my suspicions were that my resident two year old was at the bottom of it somewhere.

Now, of course, Tink was full of complaints. She had spent the last four nights trapped in that Milton Bradely chess set and she wasn’t wasting any time letting me have it.

Didn’t I notice the light was not on in her teapot cottage?

Wasn’t I worried when her flower garden was looking wilty?

How did the children occupy themselves during her absence?

So, here we were. Me with my feather duster. She with an escalating fairy attitude. Nose to nose we were.

And, I heard her out. She certainly had a point.

It must have been a bit panicky locked in that box with all those faceless pawns, wondering when the next game night would occur.

However, I certainly cannot be held responsible for seeing that every toy is properly accounted for. Every. Single. Day.

So, I told her that. Plain and simple. No sugar coating…..

And so….

That’s how I ended up out here sitting on this toadstool in the backyard.

Ribbit.

Who would have thought a plastic fairy made in China could possess such a mean bag of tricks?

Mamma Aches...

“It’s from childbirth,” says my doctor after hearing my tirade about my uppity sciatic nerve.

“Pregnancy can do it to ya,” says my ophthalmologist as she writes me a stronger prescription for glasses.

“Bunions worsen with sudden weight gain,” says my foot doctor.

“Ya gotta stop bending at the waist to pick them up,” says my massage therapist as she wrestles with a knot in my back.

“Put some ice on it and elevate your feet,” advises my mom after I whack my shin on the toy bin.

“HUH?!” I say struggling to hear over the kids’ screams.

Mamma aches. It’s a new syndrome.

It does go away in time, doesn’t it?

And, can somebody pass me the aspirin?

Bloggy Orphans

I am a Stay at Home Mother. I have shelved my teaching career for a handful of precious years to attend to the needs of my little ducklings. I am happy to place their needs over our indulgences. I am filling their foundational years with my full attention and…

Not, now, sweetheart I am blogging…

and my greatest wish is that I use my years of teaching experience to mold their growing minds…

I said, not now. Go watch Dora.

Research states that the young mind grows more during the first five years than it does in our entire lifetime. In fact, there is a distinguishable difference in the minds of neglected children when compared to children who received at least “adequate” attention during these precious years. So, when you ask “Can we mold our children’s minds?”

Big girls go potty by themselves…

I say, yes, yes, we can mold our children’s minds. No, we need not become flash card wielding paranoid mothers. Pressure and over scheduling can be detrimental as well. But, a quiet moment cuddled up with mommy and a book…

You know where the Cheerios are! Gimme a minute!

…a morning in the park, pausing for a moment to enjoy the meandering line of ants under the tree…

I don’t know where Mr. Socky went…..

A day in the library browsing through books, enjoying a morning Mommy and Me class, a playdate with friends….All these activities help contribute to your child’s growing social skills, intellectual development, language and vocabulary acquisition and emotional well being.

Yes I see the Kitty. I know.I know. Kitty Kitty! Nice kitty!

Small attention to the details of their day, listening to their thoughts, focusing on their interests, engaging them in conversation, re-enforcing good behavior, allowing them the luxury of knowing that mommy will always be there…

Ssssssss! Can’t you see I am WORKING?!

All of these things lay the foundation upon which an entire life stands firmly, well grounded and secure. Ah, to grow up in a home under the watchful eye of an attentive, loving mother

STOP BUGGING ME!!

PS. Note to Social Services…..I am prone to exaggeration.

Battle of the Remote Control

Alright, ladies and Gents….In case you just joined us, We’re going for Round 2 in the WWW Sweetheart Battle of the remote control. In the last round, hubby pinned his sweetie to the couch landing on ESPN for a total of 30 seconds.

Wifey’s up and ready for round 2. She’s doing a quick cat stretch in the kitchen and ….she’s coming back into the ring…..Oh, this lady’s feisty. She has him in a wicked lip lock. Distraction is her game. His grip is loosening. Ouch! He’s dropped the remote. Wifey does a nosedive under the coffee table. She’s in possession. She’s in possession. This is quickly taking a turn for the manly worse. Oh, she’s hitting that volume button. The Soap Opera channel?? Gulp.

“Oh, Thor! Thank you for rescuing me from falling off that icy cliff. You know, in this light I can see our future when I look into your eyes….”

The man’s playing dirty pool. He stepped out of the ring and hit the channel button on the TV. Rookie move. Wifey’s calling foul. A penalty for hubby.

Back to the couch they go. Hubby’s performing a foot rub (his penalty). This is gonna be a slow game tonight, ladies and gents…..sorta like watching a defensive struggle on Monday Night Football Wha…Wait a minute, just wait one minute…..Wifey’s eyes are drooping. Oh! She can’t keep them open. Come on, fella! Is she nodding off mid-game? Ya got your opening. Is he going for it!? Come on, buddy, my granny could pull this one off! Just like stealing candy from a baby. She’s sawing logs, bud. Take advantage.…. There he goes….He’s….I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes….he’s pushing the buttons while the remote is still in her tight grip…Master maneuover.

“Biff! Biff! Smack! You motha…f******!”

And he scores the Sopranos! This just may be a win for all manhood… Bada Boom, Bada Bing…Kids in bed. Wife snoozing. A full stomach and we got Tony and his crew! This may be a hall of famer moment!

Note to hubby…I know I got the sports lingo messed up. That’s what makes it fernnnyy!