Crayola Who?

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?

Gotta Get Me One of These...

So, the kid’s got a lovie.

A security blanket. An attachment object. Or, to put it in her words…. "a woovie."

The two are inseparable. Best friends. Soulmates. Two peas in a pod. And, partners in crime.

A regular Bonnie and Clyde.

When I found the Crayons shoved in the DVD player, I knew who was to blame. The gooey fingerprints and pink lint gave it all away.

When the remote control went missing, I could have sworn I heard that blankie giggle.

She’s a bad influence, that one.

I decided to teach it a lesson. I threw that blankie in the washer with ….how shall I put it?.....some less than delicate items. When it came out of the laundry, my toddler seemed to be even more attached.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

The bond is unbreakable, I tell ya.

I suppose my toddler and her lovie are meant to be.

Together forever. United for all eternity in love and Play Doh. Never to part. Simply inseparable. Tried and true.

Maybe I gotta get me one of these? Might just take the edge off. No?

The Doctor is In

I have often said that writing is cathartic. It helps me process things, vent, and sort through my mental clutter.

So, why was it surprising to me when, one morning, my medium point pen cleared his throat and began asking me some probing questions?

Pen: So, tell me about your childhood…

Pen: And, what were you thinking when you published that post?

Pen: How did that comment make you feel?

I was reluctant to answer at first, of course. I tend to lean towards glossing over the issues and stuffing matters deep into the subconscious. But, the stolen glances to his wristwatch reminded me that my pen was on the clock. And, I had a feeling that I wasn’t receiving any courtesy discounts.

I was slow to start. But, one confession led to another…It wasn’t long before I began to spill the beans. I really let my hair down, revealing all my dark secrets and fears, exposing all the skeletons. I found it rather enjoyable to purge my soul to an inanimate object.

We were just starting to delve into my teen years when I heard that familiar throat clearing…

Apparently, my time was up and we weren’t scheduling for next week. I was actually referred out. To a specialist. It seems I challenged my pen beyond his capabilities.

But, I do have an appointment with a purple Sharpie next week.

Sounds promising, ya think?

What Goes on in my Head....

Sometimes the life of a Stay at Home Mom can get dull. Monotonous. Boring. Gray. Uninteresting. Oh, yeah and repetitive.

To liven things up a bit, I tend to sometimes engage in a little fantasy and self indulgent exaggeration.

“I’d be happy to reschedule my dental appointment, but since I’ll be on my book signing tour all of May….”

“Yes, Mr. President, I do understand the pressure you’re under, but you really have got to stop leaning on me like this.”

“No, worries, Dooce. It’s been a pleasure ghostwriting for you.”

“What am I going to do with it all? Gosh, where do I start??….I plan to give half of my winnings to charity, of course…”

“Houston, we’ve got a problem….but, thanks to this nail file and trusty bottle cap opener, I’ll have her fixed in a jiffy…”

“Well, Oprah, it all started with a little mommy blog back in ’08.”

“I’ll be in my trailer napping. Send my assistant when it’s time for my close-up.”

And, my favorite…

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clooney. I’ve been off the market for some time now….Besides, you know I never take back an ex.”

Secret Package

It came in the mail last week, securely wrapped in bubble wrap and brown paper. I eagerly rushed it inside, shaking it madly on the way back from the mail box. Moments later, it was unwrapped and laying on the table as I scrutinized the instruction manual.

My Parent Decoder Ring.

I had saved up for weeks, hoarding every nickel and penny. I sent away for it secretly. Mum was the word. I had snuck the order form out to the mail, hidden between a couple bills.

And now, here it was. Shiny and new. Blinking and beeping on my kitchen table.

The fat instruction booklet was full of promise. Dr. Sears had nothing on this thing. Bothered by temper tantrums? Two turns to the left and a click to the right. Whiney toddler? One full spin and a push of the red blinking button. Argumentative tween? A couple spins and a few clicks of some multi colored buttons...

I had thought I found the Holy Grail of Parenting. Soon after, I began seeing other parent decoder rings…everywhere!

The loud mouth in playgroup had one on her keychain. Our preschool teacher donned one on her right hand. And, what is that on the left finger of my Mother-in-Law??

Ring! Ring!
Ring! Ring!

Nurse: Doctor’s Office.

Hubby: She’s at it again. This time I found her leafing through the phone book and spinning a mood ring around in her hand.

Nurse: I’ll have the doctor call you ASAP….But, sir….if I can be so bold….You’ve really gotta stop forgetting Date Night…

Hubby: I know, I know…. Start with a bottle of Kendall Jackson and a foot rub….

Nurse: That’s a start.

Blog Jog

What: A Blog Jog - Mammatalk’s attempt to visit 100 blogs in a single day. A 100-blog-dash-sorta-thing

Who: Mammatalk

Why: In celebration of Mammatalk’s 100th post

When: Monday, February 23, 2009- ALL DAY!

How: Clickety-Click

Where: From my laptop to yours.

It took writing 100 Mammatalk’s posts to finally push her over the edge, but the Mamma has finally lost it! Mammatalk has challenged herself to visit 100 blogs in 24 hours. 100 visits! 100 blogs! 100 sips of coffee! What’s next? Be sure to visit on Monday, February 23. Mr. Linky will be working the room serving drinks and snacks. Don’t miss.

And, maybe, Mammatalk will resume writing in 1st person once the festivities are over. Or, maybe not.

Bookworm Wednesday

"There is nothing enlightened abut shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you…as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
~Marianne Williamson “A Return to Love”

Wow. I always knew I needed to model self esteem to my daughters. How else can they become confident women without first seeing it reflected by the Queen Bee in their childhood home? But, I never considered my confidence could be contagious, spreading to other women.

Today, feel good about yourself, my bloggy friends, and know that you are doing a good deed. A good deed for yourself, your children and other women. Pass the flame, ladies. And, Blogosphere, hear us roar!

On that same uplifting note, I would like to introduce you to a wonderfully positive and informative new site dedicated to mothering girls. Started by a psychotherapist and mother of 3 girls, this site is the only one of it’s kind. Of course, I am tooting my horn a bit. I am a contributing author to the site. Ya might wanna take a little peek. :-) Click here, here or here to see what I have contributed. Yes, some of the articles apply to boys as well. I write about colic and academic issues. So, please read if you have sons!

ParentingPink (http://www.parentingpink.com/) - Come join the only "girl based" parenting site on the web dedicated to helping moms and dads raise strong, resilient girls. Offering free parenting advice, tips, forums, articles, contests, and lots of humor!

My UnResolutions

I’ve thrown them out. Discarded them. Tossed them. Gave ‘em the boot. And I’m not feeling guilty about it.

This turn-over-a-new leaf, start-over-fresh New Year’s Resolution stuff is for the birds, I tell ya. A conspiracy slapped together by weight loss companies and self help authors. I know it. They joined forces in an effort to capitalize on low self esteem and post holiday blues.

Every lady should have but one resolution, I say. And it should repeat every year.

Be gentle with one self.

The kinder we are to ourselves, the more it will overspill into the rest of our lives. Think of the great things that could occur.

NO MORE….

“Is my butt too big in this?”

“I can’t do anything with my hair!”

“Blech! I need a makeover!”

“What happened to my BOOBS?!”

“I can’t do it!”

“Why ME!?”

AND LOTS MORE OF THIS..,.

Laughter, joy, peace, hugs, skinnier thighs, calm, tranquility, satisfaction, acceptance

OK, so I threw in the skinny thighs thing.

Go out there and be gentle with yourself, my bloggy friends. If that involves reckless abandon with a bar of chocolate, so be it!

And to end this, why do we always tell our children to “be nice”, but never “be nice to yourself?”

Cheers!

Oh, yeah....and go click on the free book thing.

Monkey Mind

Sometimes I suffer from the monkey mind, my thoughts a runaway train at 2:00 AM, leaving me filled with all sorts of cold and prickly anxiety. Nothing like a little something prickly as a midnight bed fellow, all snugly wrapped next to you attempting to steal your blankie.

“Did I forget to buy milk?”

“Am I behind 5 loads of laundry or just 4?”

“What was that noise?”

“Am I a doormat?”

“Sleep. Sleep. I need to sleep.”

“Did I set the alarm?”

“Maybe I’ll go blog about this. At 2:00 AM? No, that would make me obsessive.”

“Am I obsessive? Do obsessive people think they are obsessive? Do other people think I am obsessive? Maybe I should wake hubby and ask if he thinks I am obsessive….Or is that obsessive? How do you spell obsessive? Surely someone aware enough to wonder if they may be obsessive, couldn’t be obsessive? No, clearly not obsessive here….(Pause)….Anxious? Do you think I am anxious? Only anxious people wake up at 2:00 AM to worry about being anxious, right? Or does that make me obsessive? …(Pillow over head)….Hide, I’ll hide, yes hiding is good….Or , ummm, does that make me socially phobic?”

Sometimes the monkey gets the better of us in the wee hours. It is wise to distract him with a peanut or two and quickly lock the window behind him. And maybe throw a rock at his furry a** as he scampers away. Fingers crossed for a direct hit.