Oh Anderson, May I Call You Andy?

So the jig is up:

I am completely OCD on Anderson Cooper. I know he's a fag...for the love of God, everyone knows, but it doesn't keep me from having the guy in my Top 5 (very, very close to the top of the Top 5).

If you haven't read Dispaches from the Edge, do. It's the baseline for watching Anderson Cooper 360 on CNN. You begin to get past the son of Gloria Vanderbilt and Wyatt Cooper, and into why this guy seems to always be in the thick of things. He's the shark that has to keep moving to survive. He's the guy that has the crazy brother that offs himself; he's the guy with the famous dad, even more famous mom, who wouldn't be caught dead macking down with TR Knight; he's the guy who somehow managed to work his way to the top of journalism the old fashioned way: Being a Journalist.

A long time ago I came to terms with the fact that Andy and I were not going to Ken & Barbie off to Bermuda together. Alas I have to live with love at afar: His Blog.

No shit, it's not bad, and after you know that this guy is no fake, you'll like it even more:
http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2008/03/31/live-blog-from-the-anchor-desk-33108/

Oh Andy...A, Anderson Vanderbilt Cooper. Your work/life drama is only second to reality.

The Things That Remind You of Things

Little Thing came over for a visit today. She's five weeks and three days old -- La Gringa and I are completely obsessed with her.

You are catapulted back to remembering to pull the nipple out when they're dozing off to sleep; remember the five S's (were there five? I can only remember three); stunningly blow off your own children for hours on end while staring into the eyes of a little farter-cooer-sleeper; wanting to take care of the Mom because you sure as hell remember your friends taking care of you back then; being slightly -- oh hell, desperately -- tempted to do the mommy gig all over again. You know when the yellow breast milk poo doesn't bug you that you have to get a grip, pull yourself back and say: "No More Kids. I'm done. My plate is full."

And I guess since my plate is full (work.kids.spouse would all kill me if I had another kid, muchless another duo), I will go on with my weekly fix of Little Thing.

I can still smell her in our house. That crazy euphoric baby smell. I can still see the way she looks in her own Mommy's eyes -- and find some comfort that my Things still look at me the same way.

Angel Devil

Shock. Awe. An empty cake plate where I ate.a.whole.angel.food.cake.today.

WHOLE ANGEL FOOD CAKE
Calories: 1531
Carbs: 349
-Sugars 181
Fat 0

About three tablespoons of Dove Dark Chocolate Sauce: Priceless. ;)

You are Not Allowed to Say...

...'Fucker or Shit.' Okay Thing 1?

Thing 1: Okey dokey, Mommy. I can't say 'fucker' or 'shit' at grandma and grandad's house tonight.

Mommy: No honey, you can never, ever say them.

Thing 1: Oh. Ever?

Mommy: Ever and especially tonight, okay?

Thing 1: Okay, I won't say 'fucker' or 'shit.'

Later that night...

Thing 1: Hey Grandad! I gotta talk to you, Grandad!

Grandad: Yes, Thing 1?

Thing 1: I am absolutely not allowed to say 'fucker' when I'm at your house tonight, okay?

Grandad: ...

Thing 1: Orrrrr, 'shit.' I can't say 'fucker' or 'shit.' Okay grandad?

Grandad: Yup.

W says I can't write that...

...okay. :(

Iraqi War is Older Than My Kindergarten-Age Children

I don't know a lot about the war in Iraq. I don't get why we're there, don't get why we're staying and don't understand what it truly has to do with oil. I am not a war monger, I'm not a peace freak. I believe war is a part of society, for all the ugly hate that it is. The two saddest war moments I know of are the memory of my uncle dying in Vietnam (and our family's hatred of Jane Fonda) and the intricacy of Les Miserables. It's pathetic, I know.

That all said, something hit me super hard yesterday:

The US invaded Iraq on March 20, 2003. The Things were born July 16, 2003. This damn war has been going on four months longer than my kindergarten-age children have been alive.

Stunned me. Stuck with me all day.

Operation Mommy Complete (Round One: Tie)

8 a.m. (Mommy) "Okay Things, time to brush your teeth." (Things) "YOU go brush YOUR TEETH. You have smelly teeth. Smelly teeth, smelly teeth, mommy has smelly teeth."

8:45 a.m. (Thing 1) "I said I want FA-RENCH-TOAST." (Mommy) "Please." (Thing 1) [laughs].

8:50 a.m. (Mommy) "If you don't stop using potty talk, you won't go to gymnastics today." (Things) "Okay Mommy." [followed by a few eye rolls and laughter]

10 a.m. (Mommy) "Time to get dressed for gymnastics." (repeat three times). "TIME. TO GET DRESSED." (Things) [laughter]

11 a.m. (Mommy) "Okay, time to go home and boil eggs for the Easter party!" (Thing 2) "Why don't you go boil the eggs?"

11:45 a.m. Thing 1 starts to lose the plot. "POO-POO HEAD!" Thing 2 chimes in "POTATO FACE!"

12 p.m. -- Mommy leaves the table, separates the Things, one on the floor facing the wall, one across the room facing the wall. The Things rebel, laughing, calling mommy names like "Monster Truck Bum". For the record, Mommy ain't no monster truck bum.

12:15 -- The timeout comes. The Things LAUGH. (Thing 1) "Give me a timeout, I don't care."

12:30 -- Mommy gives Thing 2 a timeout for telling mommy to "take my plate to the sink toilet face." Thing 2 LAUGHS.

12:45 -- Mommy puts Thing 2 in her room, Thing 1 in his room and calls five minutes of silence, threatening no Easter Party at school if I hear a peep.

12:46 -- Thing 1 declares, "Whatever, Mommy. Did you hear me, I said 'What.ev.er" -- I don't care if you take away my computer. I can just play with my toys. I know you will let me go to the Easter party at school because it's my job to have fun and go to school."

12:47 -- Thing 2 bursts out with "You can take my computer. You can take away anything you want, I dont' care. I'll just go outside where its sunny."

1 p.m. -- The Twin Monster Things get dropped at school (yes, I stopped the car first)

3:15 p.m. -- Mommy arrives at school to find Thing 2 saying "What are you doing here? I like La Gringa better than you."

4 p.m. -- Mommy calls in the troops. I call BFF and make a plan. No playdate tomorrow. She'll play badguy. We'll threaten going to KidsPark as punishment.

4:15 p.m. -- (Mommy) "Aunty BFF canceled our playdate for tomorrow since she heard how disrepectful you have been." (Thing 1) "NOOOOO! I want to go to her house and have a talk about this." (Thing 2) "I don't like you."

4:20 p.m. -- (Mommy) "Why don't you talk to Aunty BFF and see what she has to say." The Things talked to BFF who got under Thing 1's skin. He cried and cried and promised not to go "koo-koo-crazy" Thing 2, however, gave (quivering) lip service.

4:30 p.m. -- BFF comes up with a brilliant idea: Drop them at KidsPark for an hour. Separate Kids Parks...leave them until they understand I mean business. Operation Mommy begins: I pulled up to KidsPark. Peels up to the curb and I pretend to go inside. I got kicked out when someone started screaming at me about not taking any photos (I was pulling out my iPhone and the photo is the one above).

4:31 p.m. -- Thing 2 FREAKS OUT (finally), begging me profusely not to drop her off at KidsPark and that she'll be respectful and not go crazy on me "for one whole day." I text BFF: Operation Mommy successful.

4:50 p.m. -- The Things are home, swearing they will be good and Aunty BFF will have mercy on them.

4:51 p.m. -- A minute later, Thing 2 comes in screaming at that Thing 1 hit her, knocked her down. Both Things are screaming, howling, knowing they were absolute toast.

4:52 p.m. -- The Things are in a SILENT timeout. 15 Minutes of Pure Silence.

5:07 p.m. -- Things eat dinner.

5:25 p.m. -- Thing 1 has a bath (first time ever alone).

5:35 p.m. -- Thing 2 has a bath.

5:45 p.m. -- The Things are in bed. GO TO BED THINGS.

...wine, dinner, silence. Tomorrow Things will be better.

Score: Mommies 2, Thing 2

It's a draw.

Yeah, I'm the Chef that Can't Boil an Egg

The Things preschool asked that we bring 4 hard boiled eggs each today. I diligently boiled the suckers last night, when one (exhibit A) jumped out of the fricking pot and burned into oblivion. Big problem, down to 7 eggs and no more little suckers in the fridge.

I went ahead and finished off the other eggs, put them out to dry and told La Gringa that they'd be dying them today at school. La Gringa looked at the eggs, looked at me and very sweetly pointed out that my organic, range-free, cage-free, vegetarian fed eggs were brown. No can dye. Shit.

Jesus Was a Marshmallow

The Things had an interesting activity at preschool today to teach them about Lent and Easter.

From what La Gringa and I could gather, they took biscuit dough, stuck a marshmallow in the center, wrapped it up and baked them. The results were that the marshmallow melted, but the biscuit became sweet, describing how Christ's body remained but he rose from the dead.

Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ is a Marshmallow.

I'll Take the Prostitue Governor over You, Sally Kern, Hate Monger

Ms. Kern,

I will not use this email to blast you, although I'm sure by now, thousands have. I have read the remarks you made, I have watched the video, I have thought about what to tell you and here is what I have to say:

I am a very intelligent, productive, church-going, God-loving, mother of twins. I am active in my local community in everything from bake sales to reaching out to homeless and battered women. I give 10 % of my tithe to charity, as the bible asks of us and I spend much time with my two beautiful children teaching them to be kind, thoughtful, generous, loving people who contribute to the lives around them in a positive manner.

I would go so far as to say, our family is downright popular, well respected, very well liked and incredibly reared as one of the happiest, most stable, loving families in our city. Our extended families, our parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, grandparents, great-grandparents -- spanning various generations, political, social and spiritual beliefs -- are beyond proud of our family, always welcomed with open arms and certainly not one single ounce of prejudice against us.

We deeply and directly renounce your statements and hope that God, the good the loving Lord, will forgive you for playing the role of Satan, bringing your evil words to your public service. I hope, like me, you will pray for your own salvation and, I also pray that the people of our country will forgive you for your hatred toward their fellow Americans.

I look forward to your personal growth and the positive forward movement you will make on behalf of the Terrorism you have committed to the people of Oklahoma and this Country.

Children's Songs I Never Should Have Known

The Things are starting to love sing-songy rhythmic songs. They memorize them almost immediately and can bust out with a tune to everyone from the checkout stand at Safeway to an intimate dinner with the grandparents.

So far, I'm a rhyming nightmare. Pulling from my own bigoted childhood, here's what I've come up with so far from the delves of Kindergarten songs I remember:

"My name is L-I, L-I chick-a-lie, chick-a-lie, pom pom beauty don't like whiskey, Chinese, Japanese [pulling on my eyes to make them slanted] Indian chief!"

"Miss Lucy had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell ding, ding, Miss Lucy went to heaven and the steamboat went to HELLo operator, please give me number 9, and if you disconnect me I will chop off your BEHIND the refrigerator, there was a piece of glass, Miss Lucy sat upon it and it went right up her ASSk me no more questions, I'll tell you no more lies, the boys are in the bathroom pulling down their FLIES are in the kitchen the bees are in the park, the boys are girls are kissing in the dark!"

"Whistle while you work! Hitler is a Jerk! Miss Mary pulled his willy and now it doesn't work!"

Oh man, I need a trip to Hicklebees.

Cheetah Cheeta Pumkin Eata

Dear Mr. Steve Jobs,

I'd like to ask you for excuse letters for the following missed appointments. Since installing Leopard on my Macbook Pro and diligently installing the latest 10.5.2, I have had the luxury of a completely fucked life.

Please remit the following:

1. Sumbission to Aetna PPO for the Dentist Appointment for teeth whitening (you can only guess how bad my wine-coffee enamel looks) missed due to iCal mysteriously erasing my event.

2. Written excuse for missing the tour our of my kids' kindergarten school missed because I "forfeit my appointment" by using your completely jacked 10.5.2 crap.

3. Submission of guilt and responsibility to my client who is fucking pissed off that I didn't see any of her emails because my goddamn Apple Mail client (a) crashes (b) keeps repeatedly sending me the same goddamn emails over and over and (c) losing the fucking important ones.

4. A press release regarding the dysfunctional-nonfunctional Time Machine that lives so far back in time that it didn't help one goddamn bit when our MBP went on the fritz. Time [machine] Out motherfucker.

5. A complete admission of guilt, on YouTube of how Leopard 10.5.2 set out to destroy my business and personal life and completely and utterly whacked my computer and everyone else's.

Get rid of Leopard. Bring on the Cheetah. Hell bring me back the goddamn Panther at this point.

Rwowr.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

MBPro(stitute)

Thing 1 and Mommy's Date Night

Thing 1 and I went to his first pro sports game tonight -- Sharks vs. Canadians. It was a rocking wild game and everything I could imagine for him, blue cotton candy and all.

That kid and his sister are the love of my life...and the most fun I've ever had.