My Name is Lexi

I've got a Starbucks name: Lexi. A lot of folks in my family have a Starbucks name (formerly known in my single days as my bar name), Spike, Fanny, Phyllis. I'm Lexi.

Lexi stands for Lexapro, the antidepressant I've been taking for two years. Better known at the happy pills, the meds, the livesaver, the be-more-of-me drug. I take such a low dosage of Lexapro that Scientologists probably get happier from smelling glue.

I know a frigging truckload of Stay-at-Home-Moms (SAHMS) that take some sort of anti-depressants. I've been thinking a lot about the SAHM culture the past week after four friends all were complaining of the blues.

Now before you start rubbing you play your micro-violin for me or tell me how SAHMs have been around for centuries or how lucky I am, let me tell you one thing: shut up. :) I know how lucky I am, as do my friends who are going through similar struggles. Being fortunate and having the blues are not related. Lucky, wealthy, mentally healthy, HAPPY people get the blues.

I read an article years ago -- some special edition of Newsweek or one of those -- about the depression and the stay-at-home-mom. It described the upper-middle class SAHM as one of the most depressed in our society: Get up, get on eliptical, get kids up, throw on clothes passing over the nice ones you used to wear as an executive, go into enclosed garage, get in car, drop kids at school, run errands, pick up kids at school, go home into enclosed garage, make dinner, go to bed. The article described the solitary life that is lived by these women. Relatively no human interaction, no use of their natural senses (smell of a subway, taste of a street vendor's pretzel, touch of a crowded elevator). I've been crawling the web for this study, but have yet to find it. I remember, although not a parent at the time, that story really moved me. If you find it, sent it to me.

Why do so many SAHMS have the blues this time of year? There are too many of us in my small community to warrant it a coincidence. When I looked up the subject on Google, I got a zillion born-again Christians who tell you how great it is to be a SAHM (and inevitably a handful of recipes from making playdough to Wal-Mart dinners). On the other end are the SAHMs that are not in a happy, supportive environment like I am with blog headlines like "Fucked in Brooklyn" Those are the ones that kill me. Oh for god sake. And, if one more blog tells me that laughter is the best medicine...

Upper Middle Class SAHMS like me, are happy, smart, well-adjusted women. We're brainy enough to have playground banter that goes beyond PB&J; we rally our local communities (just ask a certain County Supervisor who met me an a brigade of 100 at the local park when we demanded it fixed); we raise our children with conviction and humility and passion. We're educated and we know how to take care of ourselves, even if it is a $10 copay on a good SSRI.

So what's the deal this time of year? Here's what I think:

* We put it all together for the holidays, we make everything warm and exciting and enticing. Then, come the first week of January, it's all gone.

* We get to have almost a full month of family time -- Thanksgiving through New Year's we get our children, our spouses, our extended families. We get physically hugged more, spoken to, engaged with. Then, come the first week of January, everyone goes back to their lives, school, homes and the touching and warmth is gone.

* We get to have expanded or contracted budgets to accommodate the holidays -- buy different foods at the grocery store, go shopping for gifts and special occasion clothes for our families. Then, come the first week of January, all of us are broke and the fun is gone.

* We get to engage with food that isn't mac & cheese. We make family dishes during the holiday season, splurges, cookies, candies, tamales and cioppino. We get to drink more too (what a holiday without some Cheer?) -- Then, come the first week of January, it's gone and we're left with five extra pounds and a worn-out liver.

* We get to spoil our children with toys and activities and make-your-own gingerbread houses to celebrate the season. We get to give them special treats and stay out late and go on tours of the lights and displays all around town. Then, come the first week of January, the lights are down, it's cold and dark and the fun is gone.

What's the solution? I'm guessing, there isn't one. We, my dear friends, are doing a great job. And as my mom says, most things in life need a 1% course correction, not a sweeping 180-degree turn. I think, for me, knowing that the SAHM blues are valid this time of year is, for the most part, enough for me. And, knowing you're having it too.

Chin up, friends. We've got ninjas to raise.

Love,
Lexi

Sale? Hardly.

In the past week, I've gotten sale emails from JCrew (20% Off Sweaters!), Old Navy (50% Off Outerwear), Kohl's (50% Off Sweaters!) and Gap (30% Off Friends and Family). I tracked down every.single.one of these discounts. Here's what I found:

1. JCrew: Two words: FUCK OFF. It doesn't help one single bit to charge an average of $150 for a wool sweater. Are you kidding me? We're not talking cashmere here. In looking through all of the sweaters on Jcrew.com, I found not one thing we'd buy.


2. Old Navy: I went into the store, and sure enough, the coats are 50% off. On sale, they're running between $50-$85. That's pretty good. Unfortunately, there is no lining in the jackets at all, so La Gringa would look cute this week in New York, but freeze her ass off.

3. Kohl's: See, now, this one is probably more me than the store. Kohl's in fact, was advertising 50% off all sweaters. The problem is the fashion of the sweaters was from the FLDS catalog, made at the Zion Ranch by underage children!


4. Gap: The sale intel came out two days ago with a serious viral campaign, but when I went to the store today, turns out the campaign is for Thursday only. Ugh.


Then there's the true idiots. The biggest offenders right now? Travel & Leisure Magazine, Luxury Link.com, One & Only Resorts. Okay, so I know I've opted in for these folks, but are you kidding me? What economy are they tapping into? What planet are you on to market to me in such a stupid way?

1. Travel & Leisure: Boasting luxury getaways to India and Saudi Arabia this month, I poured over the mag trying to remember my travels in the days before a shithouse economy and life with children. But I couldn't get past it -- what was the editor thinking? What crack are you smoking? Where is my Hunkering Down Travel? Or Find Leisure on a Budget? Idiots. I actually threw the magazine away before finishing it.

2. Luxury Link: I've purchased from Luxury Link before. Sometimes you can even find a deal. But not now. They seem to have completely lost their perspective. Giving $50 off of a $15,000 week-long getaway is not a discount. Offering discounted upgrades? Only if you win a prepaid bid ranging from $2500 to $25,000 for a week. You better damn-well upgrade me at the cost, whacker.


3. One & Only: See now, you're talking about the holding company of my favorite place on earth. About five years ago, they took over for the little La Palmilla, making it a massive celebrity destination and completely destroying the small, quiet hideaway it had been for 40 years. Those bastards are currently offering a "discount" of 20% off for holiday travel -- that would make the cheapest room just over $750 per night. For the record, I paid $200 for the same room several years in a row.

So here's my advice to the luxury travel and retail providers;

1. Do one single thing at a discount. One. Sweaters. Jackets. Hotel room. Spa services. Whatever. Do one. And kill it. Bring the cost all the way down, waaaay down. Low enough to get us previously engaged users to reengage (those of you who know me will know I'm talking about the second or third quadrant of the P&G user).

2. Don't call it a discount if you're gonna be obscene. It's so offensive. Say, "Escape the Economy" and forget about your life for a few days. Don't tell me it's a discount. Don't tell me you understand. Change your verbiage to convince me that you are one of us. It's incredibly insulting to send me a discount that isn't one.

3. Work my loyalty (yes, the P&G third and fourth quadrants). Work me slowly, directly. Tell me you know me and my loyalty to your product, your resort. Work my preferences, mine your data. Get me to engage. And reengage.

It's gonna be a long couple of years. I'm going to need more from my email marketers. You all get an F. Go back and come back with something more engaging. I have a credit card, La Gringa needs sweaters. Come get my business the old fashioned way: earn it.

My Prop 8

Last night we as Californians gave more rights to animals and fewer to same-sex couples. It's mind-baffling.

I have never believed in the idea of gay marriage -- mostly for the icky visual. @LaGringa and I fighting over who had the better dress, nudging our way down the aisle, who would walk first? We've laughed about what a wedding to us would look like, and for both of us, it wouldn't look like anything. We've got our families, the bling, the house and, almost weekly, get the giggles after 11 years of friendship.

But what I've learned through this process is that I *do* believe in gay marriage for one single reason: I believe in the civil rights afforded to every person, irregardless of who they go to bed with at night. On Sunday night, I started to panic -- what if Prop 8 passes and we didn't do anything to help? Are we hypocrites? Are we failing a community we've so deliberately shied away from? Would people I know ever vote to take away my basic civil rights they themselves are afforded?

On Monday I Twittered about where to dig up a 'No on Prop 8' sign and I was directed to the Democratic HQ in San Jose. As I walked in, a group of people were leaving to go hold signs at the main train station. I grabbed two signs and ran home to change clothes. If I was going to stand up publicly, I wanted to look as girly as possible.

At the train station I was surrounded by other No on Prop 8 sign holders. Many of them were from my town, several had their kids in tow. These folks weren't some radical freaks, they were moms and dads giving an hour of their own time. An hour to a parent is so precious. Not even one person I demonstrated with was in a same-sex relationship. NOT ONE. These were parents of young children, smart, educated, friendly, kind people who stood by me on a rainy Monday night to fight for MY rights, not theirs. I have rarely been so humbled.

I carried my sign around all day on Tuesday, stopping at random places where Yes on Prop 8 folks gathered. I did not speak (and you know for me, that's a feat), instead, I smiled. I held my little sign that said, "Equality for All" on major street corners in San Jose and Campbell. I got waves and honks and smiles and thumbs up. Once I got a "boo!" and twice someone screaming out their car, "Yes on 8!", but hey, I was good a good target. A buddy of mine saw me and pulled over, came to the median to chat with me while I held my sign. He's a die-hard Republican. He told me not to worry, that all his Red friends were voting No on 8. His words, "Everyone knows that that's ridiculous."

Somewhere in the middle of this, I started to think about Portia and Ellen deGeneres. Were they freaking out? Calling their lawyers? Standing on street corners like me? I decided to txt @laGringa and call our tax accountant. If we were going to get enough of a tax break, that would be reason enough to head down to the courthouse. We agreed to go, made an appointment for 4 p.m. when a mass marriage was being held for folks that had the same idea we did. I drove to the courthouse and... well, that's as far as we got. I chickened out.

As the polls unfolded last night, @laGringa and I were profoundly sad. Were we such bad people that we should give more rights to animals and less to us? How do we explain that to our children?

Today, we have gotten condolence calls, hugs, txts, voicemails and emails. I sat on a bench rewinding the last few days and came away with this: I live in a community that stands by me, for me and grieves with me. I live where I am free, treated with respect and dignity. There is not one same-sex couple on my street, yet there are multiple "No on 8" lawn signs up and down the little suburban nook I live in. I am blessed.

Indeed, we lost basic civil rights last night. It is serious and grotesque and it's not over yet. But that was last night. The fallout for me has been profound: I gained a reminder of how lucky I am, how honored we are to live amongst such an extraordinary community. And further reminded how deeply I adore and respect my spouse.

Not Quite the Blue I Was Hoping For

I don't know why it is that I assume that every.single.person I know and respect must be an Obama voter. I didn't say Obama fan, freak or bumper-sticker-holder, but simply an Obama Voter.

But my view of the world, quite obviously isn't shared by all, and certainly not all that I know. Four examples this week kicked me flat on my face in disbelief. What can I learn from it? I'm not sure. Do I care enough to invest in trying to change just one vote? Nah, not in California since CA is going to go to Obama. But you have a look-see and tell me what you think:

Two hot girls walk into a bar and start chatting with the bartender...

Description: Tatooed dude, overweight but jolly, kind eyes.
Lifestyle: Broke and happy. Loves his life as a single dad, loves his kid, great smile.
On Obama: He's the worse of two evils.
On Palin: She's so fucking hot. Don't you think she's hot?
On McCain: ...
On voting Red: I am not that into the idea of scaling down the military since I'm a military guy; my dad was in the military and I was in the Navy. I didn't like it when Clinton did that. It pissed me off.

On being Anti-choice: I got a girl pregnant. I'd never let her have an abortion. She wasn't my girlfriend. I just was a man about it. You gotta step up. I stepped up, so that's not an excuse.

The Boy Next Door...

Description: White guy, medium build, football and sports fan/coach/ref.
Lifestyle: Family guy, divorced and remarried, young kids, straight laced, Catholic.
On Obama: He doesn't have hardly any experience. He'd better pick a good running mate, but that won't make a difference for me.
On Romney: He should be President. He knows how to run a business and America is just one big troubled business.
On McCain: ...
On voting Red: I'm voting for the most experienced candidate. And I don't want any more taxes.

Playground Whispers...

Description: Two white women with young children under age 12.
Lifestyle: Relatively upper middle class, married, church going, community involved, SAHMs.
On Obama: I wish they would have had him run for office in eight years. It's just too early. I am older than him!
On Palin: She's got it all together. It's great to see a woman who has it all: work and family. ...They are going to call her a bitch, but if it was a man, they'd call her tough.
On McCain: He's gonna die in office and Palin will be President.
On voting Red: She represents 'us'.

I'm a Libertarian, Right Dad?
Description: White first-time voter male
Lifestyle: Middle class, great family, junior college
On Obama: He doesn't know jack shit. He's trying to be too popular.
On Palin: She's cool. She's not going to be President anyway.
On McCain: He's obviously the most experienced one.
On voting Red: Since Ralph Nader isn't in the election, I'm going with McCain.
On Abortion: I only had one girlfriend have to have an abortion. Mexico is like a six-hour drive if abortion was ever illegal anyway.


I've had my ears open for a couple of weeks, trying to understand outside perspectives. I'm not going to knock on doors, make calls or invade people's privacy; it's just not me. Not to mention, in some cases, La Gringa and I could swing a vote in the wrong direction, so I'm trying to be mindful there too.

I am constantly amazed at how, like CNN reported today: "We keep telling them the facts, but people want to vote the way they want to vote, despite facts." (in reference to Palin lying about the Bridge to Nowhere fiasco). I wonder, is it just smart, sophisticated people that vote Blue in this election? Maybe that's why I counted 14 Obama lawn signs within 1/2 mile radius of my house, but not a single one for McCain. Are there lawn signs for McCain in Pennsylvania? I'd like to know...

And it's just not in my neighborhood that I'm seeing such strong, unexpected divisions: On Twitter, I've had to unfollow several people whose daily lives I've followed for more than six months because of the aggressive stance in favor of Sarah Palin and John McCain. One woman I correspond with sent me a "Which Candidate Kills Babies" document. In many cases, on Twitter, in particular, people are drawing lines bases on political affiliation in a zone I've thought to be agnostic and accepting.

Facebook seems to be much more in-line with my own philosophies, but a bit trendy in the Obama frenzy. It's cool to be an Obama fan. My ex-boss is a state senator in a swing state, and he even has backed off from being vocal. Facebook appears to be a popularity contest where Obama is king.

There is hope, though: I've yet to see a "McCain is my Homeboy" t-shirt.

dear god

Dear God,

I hope you're doing well. Thanks for the awesome summer and the incredible kidlets and and family. All's good down here. Kindergarten is fine, except for that one little hiccup on the second day of school and we're really loving Spanish Immersion, even if the kids can't understand a thing, but hey, they didn't understand a word at their Hebrew preschool either. Leg-up, I say.

Anyway, the house is good, even though the disposal and dishwasher don't work which is kind of a mind-trip since this is only my third week as a nearly stay at-home mom. Are you testing me, God? Because I think you won the last round when I didn't know how much bleach goes in the wash and poured it all over my khakis (stay at home moms wear khakis).

Thanks, God for the awesome job you worked out for La Gringa. She really loves it. We now truly embrace the goodness of mobile porn like never before. But trust in her, truly, that if there is entertainment beyond porn to be found, La Gringa will make it happen. Before you know it, those booby videos will be slapstick somethingruther instead and that will please you, I'm sure.

I've got one small request (well, beyond helping me figure out the whole smudges on the baseboards thing), can you please, since she claims to speak to you in tongues, go tell your loyal follower Sarah Palin to step off my jock? In fact, can you help her find her way to, um, I don't know, Russia (since she can see it from Alaska), or even um, something a little more up her alley, like how about Steve Irwin's old job? She could be the Barracuda Hunter. She'd like that. And so would I.

Oh and one more thing, God, I think you're cool for doing this whole Women Can Have it All thing. It's really been an eye opener, um, sort of. WWMMD (What Would Mary Magdeline Do)?

Amen.

Threads that Suck

La Gringa and I are convinced that clothes have become increasingly cheaper in make, threading, ripping, shrinking, fading color within months. In honor of Fashion Week in NY this week, here are our Top 5 biggest offenders. Buyers beware, but don't let it stop you, it doesn't stop us.

5. Victoria's Secret Bras -- the Up in the Uplift only works for as long as gravity takes to unlift the little darlings. They stretch like mad too, especially the IPEX line. Victoria's Secret tops -- Okay, so if you're going to buy clothing from a mass market lingerie shop, then I'm not sure what I was expecting. However, I've pushed four shelf-bra summer dresses to a giveaway pile that I just bought in May and four halter tanks straight to the bin. VS can get you laid, but their color fades. Oh look, I rhymed.

4. Banana Republic summer tops -- the cotton fabric, albeit soft and good basic style has absolutely zero staying power. Cotton tanks with lace unravel like mad and the tag in the back causes little holes on either side of it, knocking the $24 tank into the tanker.

3. Crocs. These things are bullshit and we all know it. First, they make my kids trip all over the place, second, there is no true sizing on the things and third, they stretch out and lose shape very easily. We opt for Keens instead.

2. Costco-bought random wear -- I have no idea which sweatshop this stuff is made in, but it goes beyond even my deepest bargain shopping. This year alone we've thrown away (not even Goodwill'd) two bathing suits, two kids sweatsuits, about a dozen socks, two pairs of pajamas and an Easter dress.

1. The biggest offender of all in our house has absolutely no business charging $185 for one pair of fricking jeans. Shame on you, Joe's Jeans (petite fit) and Seven for All Mankind (boycut) for actually getting smaller. Do you know how hard we work to stay in our jeans and you f with us by progressively shrinking them? My Joe's were dragging on the floor five months ago, today they are above the ankle. That ain't fashion, honey.


Top 5 Staying Power Clothes to Invest In

5. Kids Levi's -- The kids actually outgrew them before they tore, shrank or faded.

4. JCrew cotton skirts -- Got mine at the outlets four years ago and wear them at least four months out of the year.

3. Bloomindale's brand basic sweaters -- The cashmere ones don't hold up quite as well, but the plain sweaters, from pima cotton summer ones to merino wool winter ones have great fit, quality and solid fashion (although not top fashion). Sweaters run from about $75 to $250 but worth every penny for everyday use.

2. Ferragamo Handbags -- Well, now, I didn't buy my own Ferragamo handbag, it was a handmedown from my mom, but I've seen her use them for years and mine gets compliments all the time (it's 8 years old). They quality is unsurpassed. The chances I'll ever be able to afford another? Close to nil. But I got one!

1. Wacol Bras -- Timeless, high quality, well built, well worth the near fortune for one set of booby holders.

So what's wrong with you? Get shopping! My favorite shopping sites: Zappos, Etsy , Bloomingdale's and, the necessary evil, Amazon.

Washable? My Sorry Domestic Ass

The top three stupidest arts and crafts products purchased this summer:


The Crayola Sidewalk Paint Sprayer

Riiiight. Unless Crayola meant wash and wear, this paint is not at all washable, leaving stains on my sidewalk, bricks and children's fingernails for days on-end (Yes, I washed the children and the bricks -- although I gave the bricks a better scrubbing since they don't yell at me.). Did the product mention the part about splattering out of the sprayer on all sides, leaving a massive green muck explosion on my walkway?
Rating: Colored Crap (CC)


Party Hair Color

Such a great day camp my kids attended that I'll even forgive the "temporary" hair spray. So temporary, in fact, that it wouldn't come out for six days. That's six long days of strangers asking me if we were "at a carnival today?" I sent La Gringa scrubbing poor Thing 2's scalp after photos from The Picture People came back a little, um, reddish on the noggin.

Rating: Colored Crap with bonus Chemicals. (CCC)


Elmer's Squeeze 'n' Brush

And the winner for the dumbest Target purchase of the summer season: The Squeeze 'n' Brush which is more like Squeeze and Burst (All Over My Kitchen Walls). Washable? Okay, fine, on the table, yes, on the walls, sure with a little elbow grease and Clorox Cleanup, but on the kids and me? NFW. I can't get that fricking paint out of my nail beds for all the manicures in Vietnam.

Rating: Exploding Colored Crap (ECC).


I'm sticking to Marks'a'Lot permanent markers. Even *that* washed off the kidlets easier -- well, at least with a little baby oil and a brillo pad.

Today

5:45 a.m. -- Wake up! Heart beating like a crazy woman, nightdress around my waist. Fricking iPhone default alarm is on - holy crap that's loud!

5:46 a.m. -- Lisa's out of town. I don't have to be up at this hour to go for a run. Mo-fo. Back to bed. Back to bed. Yeah, no.

6:10 a.m. -- Thing 1. Up and adam. Did-I-Know-That-Bobbafet-Can-Be-Sticky-Taped-To-My-Legos? LOOK MOMMY! God I wish I hadn't taken Ambien.

6:45 a.m. -- Okay, time for a shower. Shit, no razors. I could bite the hair on my legs off with more efficiency. Add to mental list for Target.

7:15 a.m. -- Kids are not reading chapter book with La Gringa, they are watching American Gladiators. I'm pissed. And fixated. My hair dries all whacked while screaming at the top of my lungs for Jeff (who lost).

8 a.m. -- Thing 1 cannot be consoled. Jeff, his favorite Gladiator challenger lost. He's sobbing, he's pointing out that he came from behind, that he lost his balance, that life isn't fair. At first I laugh, and later, find myself holding him tightly, rocking him, telling him Jeff the American Gladiator challenger is a winner in his heart. Thing 1 doesn't buy it. He wants Wheaties for Breakfast. Breakfast of Champions, which obviously poor Jeff isn't.

8:15 a.m. -- Go to get dressed while La Gringa makes breakfast (the only work day I get the early bird special). I didn't pick up the dry cleaning. Fucking dry cleaners, never open when I need them. Don't they know I work for a living? Backup outfit isn't bad. Add a gold belt, looking better.

8:40 a.m. -- Go flying out of the house barking orders at La Gringa to pass onto the babysitter. As I race out the door, I realize Thing 2's hair isn't brushed. She's blowing it out of her eyes with her bottom lip. Crap.

8:45 a.m. -- Head to Monsieur Beans for a coffee and remember I'm cash-less until payday tomorrow. Scrounge for cash in the car. Lotto! Run into some kind retired folks that I've known a few years back when I was retired (and not searching for change). I feel like an asshole as I have to cut them off talking about their bananabread recipe so I can hit the road and make it to San Francisco by 10 a.m.

8:46 a.m. -- I have to pee and I need a bottle of water. I go back into the coffee shop and run into a Twitter pal. Not exactly a great time to Tweetup. Bought the water. Forgot to pee. Crap, I have to pee all the way to San Francisco.

9:12 a.m. -- Nearly crash my car trying to Tweet and Drive. I'm an asshole.

9:30 a.m. -- Narrowly escape a double speed trap on 280. I was Tweeting, speeding *and* listening to Pontus 08 on XM radio, which alone, is a carwreck.

10 a.m. -- No parking on 15th Street in San Francisco. I guess I'll have to pay for parking. Oh shit, no cash. ARGH! I finally find parking by wriggling in between a smartcar and an old SUV. I nearly hit a sleeping homeless guy in my parking space. I guess they have more sympathy for homeless people in the big city than in our Willow Glen suburb. I felt slightly disappointed that I didn't tag the strung-out dude.

10:30 a.m. -- Staff meeting. Oh god, the days of staff meetings... somehow I feel happy that this client is super smart and even happier than I, unlike them, am not in PR. God help me. PR seems satanic to me. The online community old schooler in me wants to puke all over them -- but business is business and I'm learning from them how the system works from another angle.

11:30 a.m. -- Move my car. Fast, before the parking gods take my car away. Go to the ATM, say prayers. Sixty bucks pops out. There is a god. His name is ATM.

12:30 p.m. -- It's Wednesday! It's Bread Day! I absolutely plow my face into a turkey sandwich, savoring every.single.white.flour.gluten.carb. Whew. Sweating, I crinkle the evidence of my bread fix and start ticking down the next six days, 23 hours until we can meet again.

1 p.m. -- The client's client comes in. I'm frustrated. I'd love to tell you why, but I know enough to know that even this blog isn't private and I'll leave it at that. The *best* part of the meeting for me was the 125 lb. dog St. Bernard sleeping and farting on my feet. No allergies here...nope, not me. The hives are from something I must have eaten....

2:48 p.m. -- Touch the home button on my iPhone for the 100th time in two hours. I absolutely *must* leave by 3 to make it to San Jose by 4 to pick up the kids.

2:48 p.m. -- (multi-tasking meeting, checking time, wheezing and holding breath from farting dog) Thinking I hope the kids didn't drown at camp today.

2:58 p.m. -- Excuse myself from said meeting. Bolt to my shared desk. Throw everything in a bag and make a break for the door, praying my car has not been towed for overstaying my welcome in a parking space.

3 p.m. -- Low Fuel light come on. Actually, had been on, but just noticed that it meant business.

3:58 p.m. -- Arrive at camp to find children slightly sunburned but happy -- and alive.

3:59 p.m. -- Kids start crying. They don't want me to pick them up from camp. They want grandma and tell me to go away and find someone better to pick them up. I need a cocktail.

4:12 p.m. -- Pull up to home as housekeeper and gardeners are there at the same time. I have no hope. I bribe kids with CPK.

4:30 p.m. -- Mac'n'Cheese ordered, I'm nearly in tears that CPK has a new kids menu/activity booklet. God bless the person who distributes those things.

5:30 p.m. -- Kids catch me eating their dessert and tell me I shouldn't eat any more sweets and treat because it will make me fat. What do they know? Amateurs. Finally, La Gringa shows up. Life is looking up.

6:15 p.m. -- Mom calls. Work calls. Work calls again. I put an outgoing message on my phone saying that I'm not answering my phone until tomorrow. That ought to do it. Not. Distant cousin calls. Work calls again. I wish cell phones could be ripped out of the wall. The drama would be fun right about now.

6:45 p.m. -- Things insist on "Football Party Mix" from a $1 bin at Diddams party store. We all scream out “Whoomp! There It Is!" all the way home, windows down, blasting the bass cholo-style, thumping our hearts out... life ain't bad.

7:23 p.m. -- Kidlets in bed. No work tonight. Tomorrow's another day in the life of a working mama.What a fucking wild ride.

Goodnight.

Shit, Shit, Shit

Day two of our vacation and all I want to do is go home.

In the past 24-hours of vacation:

1. Pulled over on the side of the road for La Gringa work in 107-degree weather.
2. Had La Gringa freak out over not being at work and not being able to not work and not being able to work.
3. Checked into the absolutely insane Viceroy Hotel where it looks like Alice in Wonderland with L.A. folks creeping all over the place.
4. Breaking point went to broken point when I realized the droning techno music at the pool was NOT.EXACTLY.RELAXING.
5. Drank Long Island Iced tea then threw up for three hours.
6. Ordered room service and food was completely inedible.
7. Tried to go for a walk but the front door of the room was stuck and the back door is a giant sliding glass door leading out to the pool (yes, the techno music runs all night long).
8. Written two contracts for work.
9. Dealt with furious client. Then realized my mail server will not mail out, only in.
10. Finally fell asleep at 2:20 a.m. and woke up at 5:20 a.m. (so much for rest).


In an attempt to turn the tide of this awful would-be vacation, we're checking out of this hotel and going to a Morrocan B&B where it's quieter. We're going to try stick to only working in the a.m. for the next three days and work our asses off at trying to spend some time together.

So far, this fucking blows.

D) All of the Above

Brilliant web strategist and social media analyst Jeremiah Owyang asks in his blog today: How Do You Argue?

Oh Jeremiah, don't you know, I'm an all-or-nothing girl? Just make a box from this little triangle and you'll define my arguing tactics. Too bad my dad said I'd never be a good lawyer... I sure as hell can argue like one.

A's Fan Converts to Giants in One.Single.Bite

Today I heard a study come out on the most health code violations in America's ballparks. I waited to hear about something gross at Fenway. Nasty servings at Sheah. Nope. No fucking way.

I found myself turning in my green A's cap for, well, something a little less green. Today's study showed that A's McAfee stadium has the second highest health code violations with 493,ranging from rancid food, cockroaches and rats to chemicals suspiciously close to my mouth. Fuckwits. I KNEW that crap tasted too good.

So, where does a girl go to get her game-on? I'm headed to the Giant's AT&T Park with a mere 88 violations... and proudly packing a sack lunch.

My Wheels are Too Small...

I can't help but feeling that no matter how hard I spin, how fast I spin or how much spin I put on something, that my wheels are smaller than my world needs to spin.

I'm not cool enough to understand Twitter, not 2.0 enough to know the insiders, not a hands-on enough Mommy to be in the In-Mommy-Crowd, Not funny enough to be considered funny but way too funny to be considered normal. I'm not understanding enough of the social networking space to fully be able to guide people about what to do with it for their own businesses. I can sell it, I just can't believe in it, which makes me, by definition, a bad salesperson.

Frankly, I really don't give a shit about Facebook (although I udpate mine at least once a week). I Twitter, but no one gives a shit about what I write, especially me. I am infinitely interested in what other people are Twittering, but reminded constantly that I'm not cool enough to be popping-off Inside Jokes with other Twitterers. I don't care much about cool websites, but pissed when it's they are not done right. I don't give a shit about business models and spread sheets and MBA crap -- except it's my job to totally get that crap. I get it, that's not the problem, it's that I don't care about it.

I wonder how many people don't know or give a flying iPhone about the Web 2.0 conference last week, the launch of the SDKs, the cost of Facebook apps or what blogs are on my Reader. I literally cannot read enough to keep on top of all the shit I have to read. And even when I do, somehow my colleages always know it just slightly faster.

I feel like I'm cheating on the Internet with my real life. I was away from my computer for 12 hours today. Bad girl.

Five Reason I Hate April 15

1. La Gringa ate at least two cheeseburgers with fries, a hot dog, a few bags of chips this week, oh and a good late night run to Baskin-Robbins and lost 1.3 lbs. this week in our contest. I ran a fucking 1/2 marathon this week, ate no more than 1200 calories per night and logged about 30 miles of running for the week and lost .5 lb. FUCKING UNFAIR.

2. La Gringa (hmm, see a trend here?) and I got our tax preparations back. This year, we both sold a house, both bought a house (together, no less), earn about the same living. She got a $7,000 goddamn refund. Me? I owed $6-fricking-grand. Again FUCKING UNFAIR.

3. My car has a nail in the tire and needs a new tire before we leave for L.A. this weekend.

4. We canceled our trip to Hawaii for June.

5. I burned another fucking chicken.

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.

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.

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)

FuckerMotherFucker The Dow is Down 200 Points

shitfuckfuckshit....we need some pre IPO stock.

Watch Til the End...