Mammatalk

Hullabaloo and the Hippo, too!

2012-01-10T11:08:00.001-08:00

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.

Thank you box

2011-11-11T13:46:00.000-08:00

Hi, all!

I am a Girl Scout troop leader this year and am up to my ears in crafty projects that not only promote fun, but also promote character. I thought it would be fun to share some here.

Thank You Box....

Paint the shoebox with Fall colors and decorate using glitter, feathers or buttons. My girls collect Fall leaves to add. Throughout the month, write down what you are thankful for and place in the box. Open the box and share during Thanksgiving dinner.

We're enjoying it so much we may just continue next month as well. We'll see....

Ice Lanterns

2011-11-05T16:23:00.000-07:00

Looking for some fun, affordable winter fun? Look no further....

Ice Lanterns

Fill a large cup with water about halfway. Place a smaller cup inside of larger cup. Weight it down with stones. Place outside to freeze. Living in a warmer climate? No problem. Place in freezer.

Once frozen, remove the ice using warm water. Turn upside down over a tea light and you have a wonderful ice lantern. Can be used as a table centerpiece decorated with greenery. Makes a great lantern to light up your walkway.

Tips

Stay away from paper cups as they tend to tear once frozen.

Experiment with varying sizes. I used a bucket once to make longer lasting lanterns for outside.

Use as an ice cup for juice. Will melt in your fingers, but what fun!

Sock Romeo

2011-10-27T16:59:00.001-07:00

What started out as a one man party has now turned into an army….

An army of single socks mingling in my bottom drawer commiserating in their loneliness.

I always keep them, you know.

If they don’t find their mate straight out of the dryer, I let them stick around.

I look them in the eye and tell them someday their prince will come. I promise them that if they go about their lives, chin up, there eventually will be a lover’s reunion.

“Don’t settle,” I remind them when I see one of them eyeing a less than desirable suitor.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” I lecture as I untangle a clingy polyester blend from a cotton athletic sock.

Other times, a different reminder is needed. “Let’s do try to stay within our own league,” I whisper to a worn out wooly who was whistling at a satiny hose.

I’ve always had a tender heart for the lovelorn. But, I do think things may have gotten out of hand.

It was a late Saturday night. Hubby and I had fallen asleep early watching a flick. I was lost in a dream about….ah, no matter.

Suddenly, I heard some rowdiness coming from the bottom drawer.

The closer I got, the louder it became.

I clearly could make out Disco music mixed with laughter and some….muffled groans?

I opened the drawer a crack and was horrified.

I don’t want to get into details, but let’s just say I have quite the wild crew residing in my bottom drawer.

Might be time to weed out the undesirables.

Anyone interested in a fishnet thigh hi?

She seems to be the root to this madness….been like a cat in heat since she’s lost her better half….

Four year old inspiration

2011-10-25T22:27:00.001-07:00

My heart has been captured by a four year old ballerina.

The stiff tu-tu. The pink tights. The tight bun.

I watch her stumble and scurry across the ballet studio floor.

Each dance move always ends with an elegant bow, despite the slips and spills.

Every spin, no matter how topsy turvy, is followed by an elegant stretching of the arms skyward and a teetering balance on tippy toes.

Each pirouette. Every plie. All are followed by a confident flourish of the arms and a curt nod of the head.

I am inspired.

As I lay entangled in the next awkward Downward Facing Dog in my Beginning Yoga class, I will think of that tutu.

I will sigh.

My legs burning. My arms shaking. My yoga pants creeping in a Northward direction.

I will try again.

And, I just might finish class with an elegant bow and a curt nod of the head.

Hope it helps regain my composure.

Book Review

2011-07-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

The following is an excerpt from the book Baby Medbasics- Emergency Action Steps At Your Fingertips... It contains pertinent info regarding travelling with baby!

Vacation Emergencies 101
By Luke Hermann, M.D. & Tara Summers Hermann, R.N., B.S.N.,
Authors of Baby MEDBASICS®
Before You Leave Home
Create an emergency information pack:
(use your Baby MEDBASICS pack, a bag or envelope but make sure you pack this in your carry on luggage -- don't check it)

1. A list of current medications with dosage and an extra copy of prescriptions.

2. A list of allergies.

3. Phone number for family doctor.

4. Insurance company phone number and insurance identification cards. Call your insurance company to verfiy their policy for emergencies and doctor visits specific to your particular destination.

5. A few basic childproofing items for the hotel/guest room (outlet plugs, cabinet locks, cord rollers, etc).

Travel Day
1. Carry your own emergency care guide on airplane (Baby MEDBASICS). Yes, you will have flight attendants but no you won't have 911. Ultimately you are accountable for your baby's safety so be prepared and don't leave it up to someone else.

2. Carry the emergency info pack you so carefully created before leaving home.

3. If your child has a severe allergy or medical condition place a medic-alert bracelet on your child.

4. Carry a portable first-aid kit and small bottle of alcohol free hand sanitizer.

5. Pack 1 more diaper than you think you need (after your third flight delay . . . this my friend could be the biggest emergency you encounter).

When You Arrive
1. Make note of emergency numbers (not always 911) as well as your vacation address and the location of the closest hospital. You can ask a family member, friend or concierge for this information.

2. Suitcase dangers -- Sometimes the biggest vacation dangers are actually packed in your suitcase. Make sure all medications, vitamins, cigarettes and cosmetics are out of reach from your little one. Ziplock bags are a start but don't qualify as child proofing. Lock medications in the room safe and place all items high on a shelf out of reach.

3. Hotel room/guest room dangers -- Get down on your hands and knees and crawl around the room. See what your baby sees and make the adjustments as necessary. Are there dangling cords? Exposed outlets? Matches? Irons?
Check the temperature of the hot water as you don't know the hot water heater setting. By childproofing the room from the start you will make your life a lot easier and your baby's a lot safer. According to the National Safety Council, the number two cause of injury-related death among children is drowning so make sure to take precautions regarding any swimming pool, lake or ocean. Prevention + Attention saves lives.

4. Sun damage -- Take extra care to make sure baby is covered up as you most likely be spending more time outside than usual. Apply sunscreen (30 spf) every 2 hours and after swimming. Remember that your baby's skin is thinner than yours and therefore burns more quickly than adult skin. Bring hats and umbrellas for shade. Offer plenty of fluids and watch for signs of heat exhaustion/ heat stroke. Symptoms of heat stroke include a body temperature above 103 degrees Fahrenheit, red, hot, dry skin (no sweating), quick pulse, confusion, dizziness, headache, nausea and unconsciousness.

5. Resort babysitting -- Only hire babysitters from a trusted source. Make sure a background check has been completed and that a copy of his/her current drivers license is on file. Trust your gut. If your sitter arrives and you don't have a good feeling either call for another sitter or cancel your evening. (I personally love sittercity.com) After your sitter arrives, allow time for your baby (and you) to adjust. I recommend leaving at least a 30 minute window. Make sure you leave your Baby MEDBASICS emergency care guide, a first aid kit with emergency information and your cell phone number.

© 2011 Luke Hermann, M.D. & Tara Summers Hermann, R.N., B.S.N., authors of Baby MEDBASICS®

Author Bios
Luke Hermann, M.D. & Tara Summers Hermann, R.N., B.S.N., authors of Baby MEDBASICS®, founded the company MEDBASICS® LLC. They live in New York City with their three children, Nicholas, Oliver Beckett, and Vivienne.

For more information please visit http://babymedbasics.com and Amazon.com, and follow the author on Facebook.

THank you to the authors for allowing me to reprint this here on Mammatalk! :+)

Hope you all are enjoying your summer!

Campus Book Rentals

2011-06-04T14:06:00.000-07:00

Do you remember those days when you had to pay for expensive textbooks in college? Well, that day is over. The smart people over at Campus Book Rentals came up with the idea of renting textbooks. Save money and keep it green!

Campus Book Rentals is teaming up with Operation Smile, an amazing organization that performs life changing cleft lip surgeries on children who families could not otherwise afford it.

For every book rented, Campus Book Rentals will donate a portion of these proceeds to Operantion Smile. Their goal is to cover 1,000 surgeries. Let's help them exceed that goal!

If you or someone you know is in those college years, please consider Campus Book Rentals. It could literally put a smile on someone's face!

Sandman Strike!

2011-04-30T16:54:00.000-07:00

I was scanning the headlines the other day when I came across some shocking news.

“Major cutbacks at Sandman Incorporated”

Across the nation, thousands of Sandmen have received their walking papers.

“All I got was this pink slip and a reminder not to let the door hit me on the way out,” says one disgruntled former Sandman.

“They said I was sleeping on the job. You try working the night shift, Bud!” screamed another newly unemployed sleep worker.

"I'm FIRED?! But, I can put anyone to sleep anywhere, anytime. I got skills, I tell ya!"

Thousands more Sandmen have seen reductions in hours, salary as well as benefits.

Morale is down.

“I can’t believe you need a Master’s Degree to qualify for this flea bitten job!”

There has been talk of a merger with a popular over the counter sleep remedy.

The impact is great.

People everywhere are laying awake at night, wheels a turnin’, hoping their sandman will come. And, sometimes his arrival never comes. Apparently, there have been rolling Sandman blackouts in a feeble attempt to decrease spending.

Public outrage is intense.

“I have three kids under five! I can’t afford to have the Sandman skip my house.”

“Why don’t they outsource, Dam Gummit?”

“What about those unskilled workers? I mean, how hard is it to toss some sand around?”

On a positive note, all the media coverage has shed some light on a previously unknown world.

“You mean there really is a Sandman?”

“That’s sweet. How exactly do you land a Sandman gig?”

“Do they run a background check on these fellas?”

Needless to say, the Tooth fairy has been shaking in her boots.

Yep, things have been tough for some of our nocturnal magical creatures.

Think Santa’s safe?

Eek.

Birthday Fairy

2011-04-27T13:46:00.000-07:00

Had a visit from the birthday fairy last week.

This year, the fairy was particularly scary.

She was crabby. Growly. Grinchy, even.

I also noticed her hair was a bit greyer.

I tried to welcome her with open arms.

“Hey! It’s my birthday again! Yeah!”

But, my enthusiasm was met with snarls.

Seems even she’s getting sick of herself.

**Poor thing**

So, I advised her to cut back on her work load.

Cut her schedule in half even.

Heck, I was OK with half the visits she had been paying me lately.

I know my friends would be on board with the idea as well. Maybe a tentative every other leap year schedule? Works for me!

Think I’m on to something?

Friday, gotta love the guy!

2011-04-14T13:13:00.000-07:00

I think I have a crush on Friday.

By mid-week, I get weak in the knees anticipating his arrival. On Thursday, it begins to sink in. He’s coming!

And, when he arrives, I embrace him and cover him with wet kisses! Oh! Friday! Friday! Friday! My favorite, favorite day!

Friday is that kind of a guy. He fills your head with promises of lazy Saturday mornings, breakfast in bed, picnics in the park and nights out on the town.

He’s a bit of a lady’s man, really. All over town, ladies bat their eyelashes his way, hoping he’ll pay them a visit. And, although he is a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type, there does seem to be enough of him to go around. He never seems to disappoint. I mean, who complains about Friday?

And, I’ve never known anyone to fight over the guy. Rather, everyone is thrilled just to get their tiny piece of the pie. “Thank God!! It’s Friday!”

As a matter of fact, I think the men are in on this, too. There seems to be a collective sigh heard around the world upon his end of the week arrival.

Everyone is giddy. A little lighter. More relaxed.

Then, he leaves us as quickly as he came, hand in hand with Lady Sunday. Heartbroken, we’re left with some boring guy named Monday. You know the type. All work and no play. Nose to the grindstone. Beady eyed. Cranky. And really teed off that he missed the party.

What a gigolo, that Friday guy, huh? A regular Good Time Charlie.

Sigh.

But, we always take him back, don’t we?

Mommy Morphing

2011-03-27T13:53:00.000-07:00

I suffer from Mamma Morphing Disorder. I spontaneously morph into various personalities to suit the situation.

Sometimes I am an old hag complete with a wart and hump shouting my commands and demands.

“For the last time!! Clean up this mess!!”

I am a witch perched atop a broom.

“Time for bed, my pretties!! (insert cackle)”

I am a furry beast baring yellow fangs.

“What did you say? GRRRR!”

I am a house troll chained beneath the stair.

“This laundry will be the death of me!”

I am a wicked schoolmarm armed with ruler and whistle.

“SHHHHHH!”

I am a hunchback in the bell tower, dragging my foot behind me.

“Really, how long has it been since I’ve had a good wax and cut?”

Happily, on rare occasion, I am the Fairy Godmother smiling from amongst the silvery pumpkins.

“Ice cream for everybody. Yeah!”

It’s a regular Disney circus around here.

A storybook soiree.

A cartoon carnival.

A bit of a beastie ball.

Sigh.

Sometimes this revolving door of Disney characters gets the best of me.

“Back in the closet, Tabitha and Isadora. Tuesdays are your day, remember? “

A bit of a scheduling nightmare, really.

Kinda hard to keep up.

**This is a repost from two years ago, 'cuz I'm having that kind of a day.**

Welcome New Advertiser!

2011-03-07T13:26:00.000-08:00

I wanted to take a minute to welcome my newest advertisers, Debtconsolidation.com. This company is a leading portal of info regarding debt management and credit counseling. These are hard times we live in and many of us are looking for ways to escape the credit beast. Debtconsolidation.com has been in business for a decade, helping everyday people with these issues.

Becoming debt free is a possibility! Please check out this fabulous resource and explore your options today.

Dino Mom

2011-02-22T08:18:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I feel like a dino-mom.

Ancient and over the hill. Big and scaly. Roaring and cranky, too.

But, then my little dino-child comes around with a curiosity for all things dino.

“Mommy, what’s this?”

“Who’s that?”

“Why? Why, Mommy, why?”

She skips and dances, humming a tune. She throws her arms around me and professes her love for my dino-mom self.

Then, I smile and think that maybe being a dino-mom isn’t too bad.

Maybe a dino-mom is the best kinda mom to be.

I then go about my day less grouchy, less roary and somehow less ancient.

Later on, I sit down to share a cup of coffee with the T-Rex-mom up the street.

‘Cuz, you know, there’s always a bigger and badder dino on the block.

Kinda made me look like a harmless newt.

Geriatric Washer and Dryer

2011-02-18T15:34:00.000-08:00

As you know, I have been struggling with the laundry lately. I’ve been stalked by laundry, seduced by laundry and just driven mad by it.

It’s the hamster wheel of my life.

“Wash it. Sort it. Fold it. Put it away. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.”

Then, my washing machine began to complain.

“My back. My aching back. You never give me a break,” she squawked.

She was a granny of a washer, hand in hand with a grandpa of a dryer. Not quite the duo I needed to help with a young family and spring cleaning.

So, I decided to send them packing to the old folk’s home for appliances. They didn’t complain as we loaded them into the van. They looked happy to come face to face with their retirement years.

As for their replacements, well, I got a couple slinky little numbers over at smarter.com. They have really cheap washers and dryers, I’m telling ya.

You’ll find top brands like Whirlpool, GE and LG. The prices are tops. And, the models are young and eager to please.

‘Cuz if you are going to run with this rowdy crowd of dirty socks, you’ve got to be built like a workhorse.

Good thing I got a good price.

Birds, Bees and Some Naughty Laundry

2011-02-16T14:43:00.000-08:00

I was once again grumbling over a hill of dirty socks, per usual.

The sweat was pouring down my face as I wrestled the darks and roughed up the whites. The teetering laundry pile was far higher than I had seen it before. I had been working on it all morning and barely made a dent. I surmised that the clothes must have had their way with one another because the rate in which it multiplied was maddening.

It was true, some laundry mating must have occurred.

And, I knew what I had to do.

I needed to find the Pappa of the bunch and promptly send him to Dr. Snippity Snip.

I dug and I dug, finally finding what I suspected to be the culprit.

He lay there, immodestly clinging to a pair of lacy panties.

A pair of flannel boxers, fly open wide, he was.

I grabbed him by the waistband and said, “No more fun for you, Pal!”

He responded with surprise, “Hey, lady, I was just getting to first base!”

I marched out to the garage and opened the trashcan.

He started to squeal. “Why you raining on my parade? What did I ever do to you?”

I looked him in the fly…er…eye….before saying, “The work around here is never ending! You and that funny business in the laundry basket are making me old before my time!”

Then he started to soften a bit. “Ah, doll. I never knew. How about a little foot massage? I can fix you up with a pair of athletic socks.”

I gave him another look and began to succumb to his charms.

“A foot massage?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured me. “I’m in good with the whole sock crew. I can make you feel real good, little lady. “

Before I knew it, that rascal had convinced me to bring him back inside to continue with his date with the lacy unmentionables.

And, now, I’m sitting here with a single, one eyed, unmated sock named Gladys rubbing my feet while I listen to the laundry pile writhe and moan.

Kinda makes for an interesting afternoon.

A Valentine's Yowza

2011-02-14T07:41:00.000-08:00

My kindergartener runs out of her classroom at the end of each day with reckless abandon. Her backpack is bouncing and her jacket is falling off as she giggles and jumps her way into my arms. Her mood is contagious. Her little sister and I hold each of her hands and the three of us hop-skip to our van, laughing the whole way. They each beg me to swing them around and I oblige, lifting each one into the sky before helping them into their car seats.

What is so funny?

I don’t know.

But, I enjoy the moment.

Of course, the day quickly returns to laundry and Mattel madness once we return home. But, for a few glorious moments each day, we experience a bit of glittery magic.

Later that afternoon, I decided to sprinkle some magic on hubby.

I skip and jump my way into his arms as he returns home from work and I cover him with kisses. My laughter is without reason. I hold his hand and skip-hop into our living room. I turn and face him and beg him to swing me in the air.

The result?

Hubs was confused when he did not find the usual lady in sweat pants hissing over a mountain of laundry, of course. But, being the man he is, he seized the moment. I am not one to kiss and tell. But, I can say results were had.

Yowza!

May you find yourself skip-hopping somewhere hand in hand with someone you love today, too. Happy Valentine’s!

Looking for Inexpensive Glasses on the Web?

2011-02-13T08:14:00.000-08:00

Stop Being Lazy and Start Shopping Wisely for Glasses

When was the last time you had to buy glasses? If it was over two years ago, you’re due for a new pair. If you bought your last pair at your local eyeglasses store, you know that it’s time to wrangle in some funds in order to buy fashion glasses that are over priced - even cheap designer glasses are over priced. Have you turned online? What are you afraid of?

Sure, the Internet is full of stores that sell cheap glasses and cheap prescription sunglasses but, rest assured, there’s one online store that allows you to buy glasses online at a discount but the glasses aren’t cheap. No no no, they’re quality glasses with a cheap or discounted price tag - GlassesUSA.com. So, a lot of people put “getting healthy” on that pesky resolution list but they probably left vision care out of that group - which is kinda silly. If it’s been a while since your last eye exam, now’s a good time to get your eyes checked.

The next time you need to buy glasses frames - even if they’re just replacements, shop online for discount glasses from GlassesUSA. Stop buying what you think are “cheap glasses” from your local optical store and start shopping online. It’ll save you time and money in the long run.

MammaTalk readers can also take 10% off their next order when they use the code: Mommy10.

**This was a sponsored post. Thank you Glassesusa!**

Battling the Laundry Basket

2011-01-19T15:24:00.000-08:00

I am quite certain laundry will be the death of me.

It’s always there keeping a sharp eye on me, tapping its foot and biding its time…

a growing laundry basket of neatly folded whites, snarling at my procrastination....

a teetering pile of towels, staring disapprovingly in my direction....

a mass of unmatched socks tangled together in a hopelessly lovesick pile.

Laundry doesn’t say a word, mind you. It never does.

Rather, it’s eerily silent.

But, its silence doesn’t prevent the judgment.

Oh, no. It stares down its nose, whispering quietly among itself.

It casts judgment with one cold stare.

Then, it sits and waits, growing fatter by the day.

Because it knows, in the end, it will win the war.

And, I sit avoiding its gaze and wishing it away….

only to attack it suddenly one day with brutal force, folding and putting it away.

“I’ll show you who’s in charge,” I say, as I manhandle the socks.

“You condescending old rag,” I curse under my breath.

“You try to keep on top of all this mess,” I lecture.

Then, the drawers and closets are once again full. And, I am quite happy to have won the battle.

I know. I know.

The war will rage again soon.

But, I can enjoy the cease fire in the meantime.

A barnacle here and there

2010-12-27T14:23:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-03T16:09:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-29T17:01:00.000-08:00

“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

2010-11-24T08:42:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-11-08T16:06:00.000-08:00

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....

2010-10-28T10:24:00.000-07:00

“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

2010-10-25T15:38:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-18T17:46:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-06T14:57:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-09-27T15:27:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-16T14:47:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-09-07T07:19:00.000-07:00

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!!

2010-09-01T07:44:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-08-30T08:38:00.000-07:00

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!!

2010-08-23T16:00:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-08-16T08:49:00.000-07:00

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....

2010-08-09T08:57:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-03T21:03:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-07-18T21:40:00.000-07:00

“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

2010-07-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

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!!

2010-06-29T15:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-21T08:13:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-14T07:51:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

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
*Tweet this
*Friend me on Facebook
*Follow me via Google Friends

Simple and easy. That’s how we like it here on Mammatalk.

In all her lizardy loveliness....

2010-06-03T08:50:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-05-28T07:54:00.000-07:00

“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

2010-05-24T08:50:00.000-07:00

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$$!!

2010-05-19T15:18:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-07T07:15:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-03T22:04:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-04-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

“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?

A little Sex Nazi...

2010-04-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

It's my birthday week, bloggy friends. In honor of my milestone birthday, I am naming this week Sex Week here on Mammatalk. All of my best sex posts will be re-posted..... Mamma sex that is. And, we all know that is a different breed.

Sex Nazi

I have a confession. Since having 2 babies in 2 years, I have become a sex Nazi. Yes, I am a rigid ruler in our love palace, littering our marital rolls in the hay with abrasive commands and demands.

“Skip the fancy stuff, Mister. I got laundry.”

“Cut to the chase, Bud. Baby’s crying.”

“OK, Romeo. Your time window is T minus 10 minutes and counting.”

The clock glares at us ticking down those precious bedroom moments. I, of course, contribute to the romantic mood with my tyrannical tirades.

“Can ya put the pedal to the metal? I’d like to wrap this up before Oprah.”

“Let’s skip to the good stuff, Tarzan. I got a sink full of dishes and no time to waste.”

“None of that, big boy. No time. Maybe later.”

I admit it. I rule the bedroom with an iron fist, steadfast to the strict schedule and adherent to our time constraint, one ear listening for the stirrings of our offspring.

“The kids are stirring. Our time window is shrinking. Better deliver the goods pronto, cowboy.”

Luckily, I am married to a team player. He has taken one for the team on several occasions, and does not mind playing with a handicap. He is quite the trooper, always looking for ways to fill our sometimes desolate sexual landscape. Despite the stiff parameters, he always manages to deliver a grand performance, worthy of a standing ovation, lengthy accolades, and a “My hubby is better than yours” show down any day!!

Afterall, despite my bossy shortcomings, I did manage to wrangle me a Bedroom Superstar!

Lots of Mamma Sex Over Here...

2010-04-05T08:53:00.001-07:00

It's the eve of my birthday, bloggy friends. The clock is ticking and my cake is growling in the corner. In honor of reaching this milestone b-day, I am officially naming this Sex Week here on Mammatalk....All week long, I will be posting my best sex posts. Mamma Sex, that is. And, we all know that is a different breed. Let's begin with...

Sexual Mathematics

Calculating your chances of getting lucky tonight…

Take one marital sex life, add 500 points

Divide it by 10 after first child

Divide it by 100 after second child

Find the square root of that number after third child

If you are nursing a baby, subtract 20 points

If you are nursing a baby, add 80 points (big boobs)

Erase all points if you are currently living with a newborn

Subtract 5 points for each load of dirty laundry sitting in the laundry room

Add 10 points if hubby mowed the lawn recently

Add 20 points if it is winter (who am I to argue with statistics?)

Add a zero to your number (15 becomes 150) if your child currently does not have colic, an ear infection or the croup

Add 3 points if it is payday, ahh, make that 2 points (inflation)

Add another 10 if the lady of the house won tonight’s battle of the remote control

Add 10 points and a chocolate martini if you are still with me.

If your mother in law lives within a 5 mile radius, divide by 2 and start over

If Grey’s Anatomy is on tonight, erase all points

If it is a re-run, ….Hmmmmm…OK…add 10 points

If it is after 9:00 PM, stop your calculations and start again tomorrow

If your child is over the age of 21, stop calculating and see How to Calculate if your Adult Child is Getting Lucky Tonight.

Results

200 points or more- I know what’s been going on in your house!

100 points or more-Just a friendly reminder that the bedroom tango is still on!

50 points or more- Well...Go ahead, add a zero to your number and see above

Less than 50 points- Sorry, not in the cards for you, but go ahead, add a zero and see above!

Top of the List

2010-03-29T07:52:00.000-07:00

I am a list maker.

I make weekly To-Do lists, grocery lists, laundry lists and errand lists. There’s also birthday lists, doctor lists, and grooming lists. Of course, let’s not forget the Honey- Do list.

It’s my attempt to keep on top of things.

It makes me feel in control, at the mommy wheel and commander-in-chief-ish.

To say the least.

If there’s a lost errand, rambling about loosely, undone, unaccounted for and undocumented, I hurriedly shoo it in the direction of said lists.

“Now, now, haircut, you’re not going to get the best of me this season. Go find your place at the top of the list.”

“Ah, dental cleaning….go stand in line with the vaccinations. And, not such a sour face, please. I promise I won’t put you off much longer.”

“And, where do you think you’re sneaking off to, Ms. Mammogram? Hmmmm? OK, Ok, you can stand at the end of the line, but no more hiding out with Mr. Pap.”

My list making does consume quite a bit of my time. In fact, I spend much of my day overseeing these lists.

“I know, I know, Oil Change. Your point is duly noted. Pops will receive a memo with his coffee.”

“And, sorry, Mildew in the Shower. We’ll have to take you off any and all lists until further notice. Check back when the kids are enrolled in school.”

“Pedicure, pedicure. I understand you’ve been shuffled and reshuffled. But, there’s no getting around it. End of the line with you!”

“I know, I know Mr. Date Night. You’ve been parked last in line far too long. How about I upgrade you to a Quickie and we call it even?”

What with the managing of all these personalities, it’s a wonder anything gets done around here.

Good thing I have lists.

New parent

2010-03-24T15:48:00.000-07:00

Please check out my guest post on New Parent. It's a great new site with lots of information for parents.

Murder by Vacuum

2010-03-22T07:50:00.000-07:00

So, it all started with the best intentions, really.

I was doing a little vacuuming in the playroom. Now, if I had noticed the pink feather boa cascading on to the ground, I could have avoided the whole fiasco.

But, I didn’t. And, so it happened.

Immediately, my high power Dyson vacuum violently sucked the boa halfway up into its bowels, causing a flurry of feathers, a burning smell and a high pitched whine to emit from my most beloved appliance.

Luck was with me (kinda) as it happened my girls were occupied downstairs and did not bear witness to the blunder.

Eager to cover up my crime, I pulled the vacuum to my room, boa firmly attached, trailing and bouncing behind. My cats began dive bombing the tail end of the boa, eager to help finish off the kill, I suppose. Shooing, them away, I hid the whole kit and caboodle deep in my closet and returned to the scene of the crime.

Assorted feathers were scattered on the floor and another kitty was making a feast of the situation.

Having heard my cursings, hubs was quick on the scene with the girls hot on his heels. I tried to stop him, but he was fast footed and eager to help. The feather strewn trail and burning aroma led him to the closet. Opening the closet door, he allowed a cat to escape. The cat coincidentally had firm hold of the boa and dragged the entire…um…situation out into full exposure.

As my daughters shrieked, a cat began regurgitating a feathery, glittery mass at our feet.

I, of course, stepped into the sticky muck. Hubs muffled a giggle. The cats fought over the boa’s carcass. And, the girls won a free trip to the toy aisle at Walmart.

Murder by vacuum.

At least it was quick.

And, kinda G rated, really, if ya think about it.

Sweep it, Sister!

2010-03-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

"I sweep,” My toddler furrowed her brow as she pushed her plastic broom across the Lego littered floor.

“Clean up, clean up. Everybody, everywhere…” My preschooler had discovered my fluffy fuchsia feather duster and was boisterously bouncing around the room in search of cobwebs and dust bunnies.

And, where was I, you ask?

I was directing traffic from my perch on the couch, novel in one hand and a Cadbury egg in the other.

“Over there, darling, over there. The dust bunnies are under the sofa…”

“Atta, girl. Kick those Legos back into the closet.”

“We’ll have this place in ship shape in not time…Hand me the remote, would ya?”

Hallmark moments such as this are few and far between.

Gotta drink it up when you can. Live in the moment. Linger in the sweetness.

‘Cuz these kids can turn on a dime.

“Mommy! I hungry!”

“She won’t give it back!”

“I potty!”

“AHHHHH!”

Stick that!

2010-03-10T15:05:00.000-08:00

My daughters love stickers. They put them everywhere.

On books. On paper. On car seats. On themselves.

In purses. In boxes. In shoes. In backpacks.

It’s highly addictive.

And, their dealers are everywhere.

The Target cashier.

The pediatrician.

The dentist.

Trader Joe’s, even.

Usually, they are in sticker heaven enjoying their stash.

Stick.

But, the other day, a monkey wrench was thrown in their direction.

“Mamma. Fix!” My toddler’s eyes filled with tears.

“Mommy, it won’t unstick. It’s broken!” My preschooler was mortified.

It was quite the sticker conundrum.

A bit of a sticker orgy, really.

Clinging to each other, the stickers were in a sticker game of Twister.

An impossible situation.

I eyed the garbage, but thought better of it.

“We’ll take these stickers to the sticker hospital. The Sticker Doctor will fix it up.” I nodded enthusiastically.

Then, after a quick late night trip to Target, we replaced the mangled stickers and it was another winning mamma moment for me.

Sure, hubs felt silly at the check out stand. “Sticker, please.”

But, he’s beginning to learn to roll with the pink and polka dot punches around here.

If ya know what I mean….

Toddler Aerobics

2010-03-07T15:28:00.000-08:00

My toddler had a serious case of the wiggles today.

Getting changed….

“Get back here, Miss Naked Pants!”

In the car….

“Eyaaak!!”

At the store…..

“NO standing in the cart!”

At lunch……

“Get out from under there!”

The good news is, those who play hard, sleep hard….mostly.

Time for a good book and a little afternoon nap.

Anybody seen my Snuggie?

Idiom Me.....

2010-02-28T20:12:00.000-08:00

Ya gotta be quick witted around my house. My little daughters always have something up their sleeve. They’re a regular barrel of monkeys, those two.

Ya really gotta keep up with the best of ‘em. Stay on your toes. Keep your eye on the ball. Sometimes ya even gotta be scrappy around here.

I mean, I always try to keep ahead of the game. Outwit ‘em. Throw 'em for a loop. Head ‘em off at the pass.

But, sometimes they really give me a run for my money. Or simply put, knock me on my hiney.

At the end of the day, I guess you just gotta count your blessings and shine your best silver.

‘Cuz we all know who rules the roost around here.

And, it sure ain’t me.

A big thank you to my friendly idioms for lending a hand in this post. Sometimes a good idiom really knows how to take the words right out of your mouth.

Err…Or something like that…

Dino-Hearted

2010-02-22T07:55:00.000-08:00

“It’s ruined! Just ruined!” My preschooler threw herself to the floor, sobbing loudly.

“I am sure we can fix it, honey,” I said moving in to investigate.

“It’s broken and it can’t be fixed!!” She thrust the purple, plastic T-rex into my face, shoulders heaving.

I closely looked for broken parts, but in the end, failed to identify the problem. Prominent fangs were sharply intact. Forearms were in attack position. And, the tail was in working order.

“He looks all good to me,” I reassured her.

“SHE is not good!!” And, then a shaky whisper… “She is hurt.” She pointed to the ferocious beast’s right hand. Sure enough, this prehistoric creature was missing a claw. The tip had snapped off. I can only assume it took place during a hunt, a feeding frenzy or some Jurassic showdown.

“Sometimes dinos break their claws, sweetie. They don’t mind.” I tried to reason with her.

“She does mind. She does!” My Princess Paleontologist wiped her tears. Then a final plea. “It hurts her little finger.”

So, needless to say, I took pity on the beastly creature.

Before I knew it, that dino was all bandaged up, claw in a swing, and re-situated amongst her Jurassic cohorts.

It’s not every day one gets to assist a predatory, prehistoric animal. I felt a little proud. A tab bit heroic, even.

Although, on second thought…… judging from the look on the Stegosaurus’ face, I kinda got the feeling I was doing a little aiding and abetting.

You might want to remind me to do a quick head count in the morning. Just in case.

Chocolate Bandit

2010-02-16T07:57:00.000-08:00

He couldn’t be guiltier if he had been holding a smoking gun.

He was standing there wearing his boxers and a lopsided grin. And, he was holding the empty box of Dreyer’s chocolate peanut butter ice cream

“You wanted some?” He asked, attempting to display belated concern.

The gall. The indecency. The lack of civility.

“Scoundrel!” I muttered under my breath, turning on a swift heel.

Now, let’s hope he doesn’t discover the missing Hershey’s chocolate bar that was hidden in his top desk drawer.

Because, that would make me a hypocrite.

Or something. No?

A big thank you to Babymakin' Machine for the lovely shout out! If you haven't been over to visit her yet, what are you waiting for? Jen is so bright, funny and charismatic.....

Playing School

2010-02-09T08:43:00.000-08:00

Now, when my little girls invited me to play Schoolhouse, I was under the impression that I would be the one at the chalkboard, ruler in hand.

But, oh, no.

My little ladies had something else up their sleeve.

I was directed to a footstool between Barbie Mariposa and Baby Alive. I was told to sit. Be still. And, heavens be, I had better listen up.

That schoolmaster appeared to be a bit uppity. Crochity, really. She stood in front of class, book in hand and she began her lecture.

On and on she went.

I started to doze off. Who could blame me? She was hard to follow. Kept hopping around topics. Frankly, I questioned her authority on the subjects.

The Dora footstool was jammed into my backside causing my lower extremities to grow number by the minute. I had to think of a plan. And quick.

I searched through my brain archive for escape plans and exit strategies.

I finally settled on the idea to fake illness and ask to be sent to the nurse’s office.

So, in a nutshell, that’s how I ended up lying here in the toddler bed tangled up in bandages with a thermometer up my nose.

Kinda made me consider re-entering the work force.

Mamma Brain

2010-02-03T20:50:00.000-08:00

So, anybody out there seen my…ah….my what-cha-ma-call-it?

I know it was right here a minute ago.….

Now, where the heck did it go?

It didn’t grow legs and run off with that darned thing-ah-ma-jig I lost last week, did it?

Do you think you could help me find it?

‘Cuz we are supposed to meet What’s Her Face at that park over by…umm…. Ahh…..by….ah?

I think I’ll flip out if I can’t find it. So, if you could help, I will forever be in your service.

You will? Thank you! I appreciate it.

Ah, what was your name again?

Mamma Brain. It has a language all its own, doesn’t it?

Crayola Who?

2010-01-29T08:01:00.000-08:00

The crayon box had been overturned, and like fallen soldiers, the Crayolas were sprawled all over the floor.

I was picking up the ever popular Sky Blue, his head half worn down from repetitive use, when I hear some mumbling. Of course, I assumed it was the uppity Miss Raggedity. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her non-stop complaining. However, when I glanced over to the toy shelf, I noticed she was snoring quietly, head on Andy’s shoulder.

I was shoving the seemingly unpopular Apricot Orange into the overstuffed box when I began to realize the voice was coming from the far corner of the room.

A Lime Green crayon was hopping up and down, waving her arms wildly, all the while tossing her complaints into the air.

“Not there! Not there!”she screeched.

On hands and knees, I crawled over to the little creature until she was right under my nose.

“Pardon me.” My voice had a bit of an edge to it.

“Everything is all wrong! You can’t just put it there! You just can’t!” She was near hysterics.

“Want to fill me in?” I was completely lost and my patience was running thin.

The Lime Green was getting red in the face as she began her colorful tirade.

“Everything’s out of order. Why, everyone knows the Evergreen doesn’t mix well with the Orange family. They haven’t spoken in years.”

“The Orange family?” I was beginning to get the picture. Just barely.

She continued. “And, don’t get me started on the Purples. You’ve put Violet on the far end, and Lavender and Fuchsia are nowhere near each other. In fact, the entire Purple family has been displaced!!”

I picked up that hysterical Lime Green and crawled back to the crayon box. I was Hell bent on lecturing the entire Crayola box about diversity and burying the hatchet when I heard another voice.

“There she is! Limey! Limey!” Rolling towards me was a rather worried looking Yellow Green. What resulted was a teary eyed reunion, a heartfelt apology and a long explanation about Limey’s lifelong battle with anxiety, paranoia and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I lent a sympathetic ear.

Then, I placed the assorted shades of green together, lightest to darkest. Figured she could use the family support.

Then, I put the crayon box up high in a cupboard. Figured she could use a little time away.

Then, I poured myself a good stiff drink.

‘Cuz if I am still hearing crayons talk in the morning, I might need to dip into Miss Limey’s medication myself.

Ever had a day like that?

A Goopy Little Bug

2010-01-24T20:04:00.000-08:00

A flu bug has taken up residence at our house.

A nasty, germy, little bug.

Green and scaly, he has been diligently toiling away, working hard to cast his evil, goopy spell.

And, now?

High fevers and seal like croupy coughs all around.

Not sure how he managed to get past my flu barriers. My Lysol and hand sanitizer arsenal is most impressive.

Some say he caught a ride on my two year old’s lovey. He most likely seized his opportunity during one of her grocery cart rides.

Others say my preschooler brought it home from school, joyriding on one of her art projects.

Fingers have pointed at hubs. Lots of germs in office cubicles and Starbucks coffee houses.

Of course, it could have piggy backed on one of our library books. Lord knows the crowd at the library has been looking a bit sniffly lately.

Somehow, somewhere, there was a hole in our defense and the little buggy fella crept right in.

So far, he’s knocked out half the family. With all of the nightly coughing and hacking, I am teetering on the edge of wellness myself.

Looks like he can claim this house as another win. I think it’s time that cocky little beastie departs. And, soon. But, I hope he doesn’t boast about his easy win to his slimy pals.

‘Cuz we’re not going down so easy a second time.

As a matter of fact, that little bugger better watch his back.

That little rascal really cocked my pistol. And, this is one pissy Mamma hot for revenge.

Potty Whore

2010-01-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

“Come on! Give it to me, Baby!”

“Come to Pappa!”

“Give it up, little lassie!”

The shocking words were emanating from the bathroom. Earlier, a toy had become lodged in the commode, resulting in a bit of a ….situation. Hubs was the first to go in equipped with a plunger, snake and a bucket. The rest of us could only listen to the resulting rodeo.

“Gosh dab durn it!”

“…Give it to me, Wild Pony!!”

“Take that, Potty Whore.”

Curious, I snuck a peek. He was hunched over, firmly tugging on a plunger, boot atop the pot, giving it his all. The tug of war was brutal. The pot seemed to have the home team advantage. It firmly stood its ground, calm and confidently poised in the middle of the powder room.

The sweat poured as his red face contorted with anger and creative utterances filled the air.

“Gonna buy Pappa a new pair of shoes!”

My husband was clearly the underdog, twisting and writhing around as he put all he had into the fight. Grateful my hunky hero had come to my rescue and happy to be on the sidelines, I nonetheless felt a bit helpless. I stood aside as the battle ensued allowing my worry to get the better of me.

“You want a piece of me??!” he hollered.

Clearly, this was what the potty wanted. A piece of him. She was holding her ground, not about to give an inch.

Finally, hubs stood, wiping the sweat from his brow. Turning to me he said, “Gotta let it sit awhile. Let her stew in it a bit.”

He retreated, boots stomping loudly. And I was left with a wet floor, a befelled plunger and a rather smug looking toilet.

The battle may have been lost, my potty friend. But, we will win the war.

Indeed.

I think it’s time a woman takes the wheel. Step aside.

*Author’s Note….Much apologies for using the crude “w” word. But, as you know, we only report the truth here on Mamma Talk. No editing, just a brutal dose of reality….Now pardon me, I’ve got some laundry fairies that need some wrangling….

The Doctor Will See You Now...

2010-01-12T08:43:00.000-08:00

“Don’t worry. I fix you.”

The contents of the toy doctor’s kit was scattered across the playroom floor.

My two year old was performing a thorough medical exam on an unsuspecting teddy bear with a torn ear. The poor creature had been pinned down, throttled, gagged and bound….Ah……bandaged, rather….

His temperature had been taken. His reflexes checked. His ears probed. His eyes poked.

The violations hadn’t stopped there.

A complete dental cleaning and an ear exam were thrown in, compliments of the house.

In the end, that bear was given a lollipop and a balloon and was sent on his way.

He seemed happy with the services rendered. Sure, he walked a bit bow legged as he made his descent down the stairs. I thought I heard some light wincing as he re-joined the other bears on the shelf. And there may have been a slight grumble about the torn ear that didn’t really get fixed….

But, I am pretty sure he gave the thumbs up to the furry bunny as it was dragged into the exam room by its ear.

Now, if we could just talk Raggedy Ann out of her tree…Seems my little Doctor heard Miss Raggedy complain of a migraine earlier…

Anybody seen that redhead around anywhere?

To Kiss Her Fella...

2010-01-06T08:32:00.000-08:00

My toddler was dressed to the nines. She had been rummaging through her Princess dress up bin and had come up for air bedazzled, bejeweled and bedecked.

Rhinestone earrings sparkled from her ears. A satin gown cascaded to the floor. A crown rested eschew a top her head. And her feathery purple plastic heels flopped haphazardly with each step.

The glamour. The pizzazz. The glittery, shimmery elegance. Pure class.

It absolutely took my breath away.

Her mood matched her attire as she broke into song.

“Cinderella, dressed in yella…Went upstairs to kiss her fella…”

Up the stairs she went, boa bouncing behind in her wake.

Apparently, she meant business.

Think a little parental chaperoning is needed in the upstairs playroom?

Ah………Be right back!!

Mamapedia

2010-01-04T08:56:00.000-08:00

Happy 2010! Hope all had a wonderful holiday and are starting an amazing New Year!

I had the honor of being featured on Mammapedia yesterday. I wrote about thinking caps and how easy they are to misplace. Happens everyday at the Mamma Talk humble abode.

While you're over there, you might want to consider submitting one of your old posts. They feature everyday Mammas everyday....

Secret Pocket

2009-12-30T12:09:00.000-08:00

I have a secret….. I am afraid of my purse.

No, it’s not the stale Cheerios scattered at the bottom that gives me the creeps. Not the lost, dirty Kleenex that puts my hair on ends. And, it is not the gum clinging to the side that gives me the willies either.

It’s the secret pocket.

When I purchased this bag there were no warnings about a secret pocket. No tags advising to purchase at your own risk. No buyer beware. Nothing.

Truthfully, I had no idea that a secret pocket existed until …well, things began to happen.

It started with some spare change at Starbucks.

“Oh, thanks! I’ve been looking for the Nebraska quarter!” I naively chirped, tossing the coins into the “to be filed later” section of my purse. (Yes, that means they would be rubbing elbows with the “to be filed later” crumbling Cheerios partying in the deepest crevices of my purse.)

For days, I heard the coins jingle in my purse.

“Gotta file those..”

Then, one afternoon, I dumped my purse out…well, OK, my toddler dumped my purse out…… in the middle of the grocery cart, but that’s another story. The coins were gone. Missing. MIA. They had simply vanished. After a panicked swipe of my toddler’s mouth, I dismissed the odd occurrence. I filed it under “weird” …oh, and embarrassing…. and continued about my day.

Then, we had the lipstick incident. Things took a turn for the worse.

It was a certain lipstick that played a “now you see me, now you don’t” game with me in my purse for the better part of the week. Ordinarily, I would have just shrugged off the mystery and run to the local Walgreen’s for another quick purchase at the Wet and Wild display counter, but, Heck, budget’s tight these days! Gotta stretch that $1.99 as far as we can go…

So, here we go …another dumping of the purse. After shooing away a furry, 8 legged friend…or two…that had apparently taken up residence ….and averting my eyes from the gelatinous, gummy, quivering mass that seemed to be mating with my day planner, I came to the quick conclusion that this lipstick was NOT there!

My temper began to boil just beneath my “I’m-a-nice-person-who-once-worked-with-disadvantaged-youths” façade.

“Where is that freaky froupy nickel knucklebucker….” I searched my imagination for the most colorful swear words in my (limited and shrinking, thank you) vocabulary.

After a good working over, I tossed the purse to the floor. There was a clunk sound as it hit the ground. A clunk sound that shouldn’t be heard when yarn macramé hits linoleum. Grabbing the bag by her ( I hope it was a her) innards, I turned the whole kit and caboodle inside out to discover a hole in the stained, satiny inner lining.

A hole, as in a black hole, a time warp, a worm hole in space? Perhaps?

Peering through this hole, I found my lipstick! She was floating in a sea of Cheerios, between the macramé and satin lining, clinging desperately to a Nebraska quarter.

I was so happy to see her that I immediately swept her in my arms and kissed her. I applied her to my dry, colorless lips and promised to be a better Wet and Wild lipstick owner.

A hole in the lining! HA! Explains everything. Now, if someone could just explain the ransom note pinned to my lipstick’s chest, we’ll have a mystery solved.

Purse mafia, ya think?

This is a re-post. All this week I will be posting my favorite posts of 2009. Have a great New Year!

Hiss!

2009-12-28T08:58:00.000-08:00

There’s something wrong with my mouth. It appears to have sprung a leak.

My days have been peppered with a variety of hisses lately.

“Shhhhhhh…Baby’s sleeping”

“Hisssssss, not in front of the children!!”

“Shuuushh! Do you need a time out?”

Of course, my years spent in the classroom afforded me lots of practice.

“Hisss! No talking!”

“SHhhh! You are speaking outta turn.”

“Shuuuuush! We are in the library!”

Hubby says I have two mouths, one for talking and one for…SHHH! The bloggers are listening.

All shushes are not the same.

* Machine Gun Shush- Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh- watch out! There’s a bullet in each syllable. Mama ain’t happy.

* Lullaby Shush- huuuuush… a kinder gentler shush, the place where all shushes are born; commonly echoed in maternity wards and baby nurseries.

* Librarian Shush- ssssssssshsssssshSHH!!- a long, continuous,snarling shush gaining in acceleration and followed by a sharp punctuation mark of a shush; translates to a firm warning, often precedes machine gun shush.

* Mommy Shush-ssssh-ssssh-sssssh-sssh-ssssh- a long series of rhythmic shushes, a reassuring hiss, An “Are you OK?” shush; usually accompanied by the patting of a back and smoothing of a toddler’s hair; often heard under playground equipment, bottom of stairwells and ends of long driveways.

* Daddy Shush-SSSHHH*T! – A firm, crisp shush, meant as a quick warning, it’s back end is blended with an expletive; often heard as a teeth clenched warning such as “Watch it!!...It’s gonna….SSSSHHH*T!”

* TSSSK-TSSSK-Tsssk- a cousin of Shhh. Translated to “No, no, not now.” Or “Don’t touch.” And occasionally meant to be an “Outta the way pronto” command.

* Shhhh should not be confused with the distant relative ssssssss, which is a crisis hiss, an ouch, breath holding inhalation hiss.

I am a talented husher. My knowledge and application of said hisses shouldn’t be underestimated. I am always ready to lend a hand at story time in the public library. I am equally available for crowd control at the bookstore. I am lots of fun at the movies. I am currently working on the ability to throw a hiss to the far side of a room without moving my lips (advanced hushing). It just might make me the fun one at parties.

Hiissss!

This is a re-post. It's Mamma Talk's year end review. I will be posting my favorite posts of 2009 this week. Feel free to join me. I'd love to read your favorite post!

Holiday Diva

2009-12-20T20:43:00.000-08:00

This Holiday Spirit sure is a bossy one, isn’t she?

She storms in on Black Friday, demanding and shouting orders.

First, she does a number on your pocket book.

“Buy this. Buy that.”

Then, she has a thing or two to say about your home décor.

“More lights! More tinsel! More garland.…And, I don’t care if it’s your house, the electronic LED Santa is going over there!”

She monopolizes your social calendar.

“The office holiday party is this Friday, Breakfast with Santa is next Saturday….and don’t forget caroling with my mother tonight!!”

She prods you with guilt…

“You’re really going to just walk right past that Salvation Army guy?”

Takes over your kitchen…

“Out. I’m making Granny’s secret fruitcake recipe.”

Critiques your mood…..

“My, my….someone’s feeling a little Grinchy this morning!”

Piles on the homework…

“How are those Christmas cards coming?”

And, just when you’re ready to snap….Just when you’re about to wring her jolly, little neck….

She says the same thing…

“But, it’s Christmas!!”

Then, we nod our head in agreement, sob in our eggnog, and hop back on that holiday treadmill.

Sigh.

Don’t worry. Baby New Year is coming.

Hear he’s a real bundle of laughs.

New Year’s Resolutions, anyone?

An Affair to Remember...

2009-12-14T08:10:00.000-08:00