Friday, May 30, 2003 :::

::Taking Back My Apology To The White Stripes::

My sister has just informed me that the actual moment The White Stripes crossed over to the "Pop Realm" was not actually when I, a 29 year old suburban married mother of two young children, decided I liked them. Actually, when Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen presented them with an MTV music award, they began a slow descent into the 'Common Folk Pop' category. an sister's friend Mary used to date Jack White. Maybe I can set you up Sarah!

::: posted by Melissa at 10:28 PM

::You're Not Cool Anymore::

Here's the thing. You have a kid, maybe you have two. You're really not cool anymore. You can fight it, you can do stupid things like name your third child after 'The Ramones'....but still you're not cool. In fact the more you try to be cool, the less cool you are.

Case in point. The MiniVan debate.

MiniVans are in no way cool. (Though that Honda Odyssey comes pretty close with that 'Magic' third seat and the dvd player) No one ever claimed MiniVans were anything but practical. They are utilitarian vehicles designed to get your un-cool parent ass around with your kids in tow in the easiest manner possible. That's it.

You see you could fight it and try to be cool...driving your kids around in a pick up truck. But pretty quickly you'll realize you look like an uncool asshole trying to look cool driving around with your kids.

I love when I watch the 'cool' parents with their two door sports cars....trying to get their infant's car seat into the back seat. Struggling to get their toddler strapped in without bumping their head on the door frame.

You know when I see that...I think "Wow, now there's a really cool parent. They're so cool...they're standing there with their asses hanging out of the car fighting to get their kids safely secured. That is so cool. Look over there at those cool parents honey. Look how they're stuffing those kids into that car, looking all cool. Man, thank God they don't have a MiniVan because, Jesus, that is so uncool."

Sometimes if I'm feeling wicked cool I yell out..."Rock On Cool Parents! Fight The MiniVan!"

Not really...instead I hop into my SUV and count the days until I cross over into the MiniVan abyss. I will go gently into the night....because I am not cool and will never again be cool. I spawned not one but two offspring and so it must be. I must cart them and all their friends and their crap all around for the rest of my days...I just hope I can do it with a dvd player and magically disappearing third row seat.

Because, you know...that really is cool if you think about it.

::: posted by Melissa at 9:53 PM

::Ugly, Rude Rich Child With Nanny...Really Was!

When I captioned this photo, I wasn't lying. I also wasn't stereotyping.

He really was unattractive, he really was rude and pushy and impolite, he really was rich, and he really was with his run down and exhausted foreign nanny.

Unfortunately I also know plenty of ugly, rude poor children without nanny's as well. But this child stood out because of his location on the upper east side, his ineffective nanny, his oddly formed face and because of his tyranical attempts to control the playground.

I wouldn't assume he was rich, ugly and rude...I wait and let him prove it to me.

And prove it he did.

::: posted by Melissa at 5:00 PM

::My Life As A Three's Company Episode::

I've been plotting to buy my husband an iPod. They retail for $400. Far beyond his imagination to even consider buying one.

However, a friend was selling a freebie one he'd gotten from Apple. Brand new, 15gb...for $150! To quote my friend Peg, "You can't afford not to buy it!"

My poor husband with the wife who wildly spends the money he makes with no caution or care for the reality of our one income lifestyle. He really wanted it. It was a good deal, an amazing deal. And still we don't even have an extra $150 laying around for such a frivolous item. Especially considering I've been to Las Vegas for a girls weekend with friends and New York City with Madison over the past three months.

So, my mother offered to lend me the money with a slow payback option and I began steathily planning the purchase. However, all along the way I've been giving myself away.

In the end the gift was presented early because the suspicion level had risen to a level so may have affected my marriage. My husband was hounding his boss to find out what I'd been emailing him for, mutual friends reported seeing me at his friend's studio in the middle of the day.

'Come and knock on our door.....'

Now, how foolish might it be to expect an iBook for my birthday or next Mother's Day???

::: posted by Melissa at 3:33 PM

Wednesday, May 28, 2003 :::
::It's Been Brought To My Attention::

Someone has mentioned to me the risk of venting or picking on people in a public forum. That perhaps 'someone' I may have bitched about would 'come across' my writing and be upset.

I admit this is possible as in the case of this excellent Blog.

However...I have given this some consideration.

One is, my husband's family is more than well aware of the fact that I loathe them, and in fact the loathing is returned at least 10 fold.

As an explanation of the loathing (obviously from my own perspective only...two sides of course), my then future husband and I attended a 'counseling' session two days before our wedding to try and work out some of the friction between us. At said session, my mother in law said, when asked if she was happy to see us married, "No, I do not want you to be married."

She then continued the slap in the face by wearing chinos and a navy sports coat to our wedding.

As for Logan's sister...whom I consider insane beyond most people's comprehension. She hates me with a fury that is not only insane, but entirely out of proportion to the situation. I could shock and amaze you with the stories of our lovely relationship...but I will not.

You see none of this is any surprise to anyone...given the fact that I haven't spoken to my father in law, mother in law or Logan's sister for over eight months. They know I loathe them, think they are entirely disrespectful of me, my right to privacy and my marriage.

You know what is most irritating and annoying about them? They do everything in the 'Name Of God'. Of course they attend a church with the now infamous "Strolling Jesus" (think cheesy lounge act featuring the Son of God.)

I feel okay remarking about my in laws because it's clear how I feel about them. This is not a secret. If they happen upon this site...they don't have to read it. If they do read it, nothing should come as a shock.

I hate them, they hate me.

The only thing I'm feeling a little guilty about at this point is making fun of Baby Jack's name.

We saw him tonight and he is adorable in a most smooshable newborn baby way. Not only that he's as hairy as a primate.

We spent an hour with my brother in law and sister in law...those that chose a most freakish name for their son. And you know, they were fun to chat with. I didn't feel nearly as sad as I expected to. Our kids had fun playing together.

So, I still think they're freaks and I can't get along with them for long periods of time...since my brother in law will inevitably make some snide remark about my furniture ("You got this from Jean? Huh, I'm surprised they'd have such crap.") or some comment about my clothing ("Didn't anyone tell you stripes and pregnancy don't mix?")....but in general they are good people and they make adorable kids, we are simply not compatible as long term friends. Which has as much to do with what I bring to the table as it has to do with what they bring.

There, I've considered the ramifications and I stand behind my venting and bitchiness towards my in laws. However, I will refrain from venting or bitching about people I have no intention of expressing said venting to in real life.

::: posted by Melissa at 10:21 PM

::Long Awaited New York City Photos::

You know, I really couldn't come up with any witty captions for them...

I tried to make Aunt Jenn stand in front of the huge dinosaur at Toys R Us Times Square and act really scared. But she wouldn't...mainly because being in that toy store alone was very close to her clearest vision of hell. Posing for photos would have pushed her right over the edge.


::: posted by Melissa at 3:47 PM

Tuesday, May 27, 2003 :::

Do you sometimes find yourself becoming increasingly agitated for no apparent aggravated in fact that you'd like to ask whomever it is you're talking to at that moment to gouge your eyeball out with their pinky nail?

Maybe it's just me.

Today Madison talked so much I would have liked her to gouge my eyeball out with her pinky nail.

Honestly, how much of this game could you stand?

"Mom, what does P-R-N-O, spell?"



"It just doesn't"

"Okay, what does L-R-M-S-O-E-N, spell?"

I tried making up words....but that's a whole other can of worms, which to continue would require a full frontal lobotomy.

In other news, my favorite person in the world is moving to Texas and I saw actual proof of the move today. A for sale sign in front of their house. I've been in denial.

::: posted by Melissa at 8:58 PM

Saturday, May 24, 2003 :::
::This Is Mean, But Damn It Makes Me Feel Better::

In the style most typical of my obnoxious brother in law and my obnoxious sister in law...they've given their third child a most obnoxious name.


::: posted by Melissa at 7:23 PM

::Jack Is Born::

I have another nephew. He was born last night. 2 weeks early. Logan's brother and his wife are the proud parents.

I feel like crying...a lot.

I do not in any way want another baby. But as we approach my due date (the same one my sister in law had..odd)...I wonder if, even though I didn't want another child...perhaps I was supposed to have another child.

I already feel intestinally unsettled and weak stomached, so I don't know if it's that that's making me want to vomit, or if it's this emotional train wreck I am.

It's not helping the fact that they have a 4 year old daughter, a nearly 2 year old son....we have matchy matchy families...and now I am feeling the loss of the third child I may have had. If my weakened uterus could have sustained a pregnancy. If I was a little less neurotic. If I actually enjoyed motherhood a little more.

I'm feeling guilty. I am feeling loss...a loss that I haven't really allowed myself to face. I am feeling a little haunted by this new nephew who is in a way a ghost of a third child we may have had.

I think that's really sad and I am not sure how I'll ever be able to really connect to this new baby because it's really very painful.

There are one million reasons I am happy to be done with babies and moving forward as a really cheesy nuclear family. I have no desire to enter back into the depths of hell that is my experience with a newborn baby. I know my body may not have been able to withstand a third pregnancy, that my life and/or the baby's life may have been compromised.

I am very logical about these things. I can see reality through emotion.

The problem is emotions have a way of carrying more weight that rational thought.

I love my children with every cell of my being. (I don't love wiping their asses or being at their beck and call 24/7....but I love their actual 'being') I would have loved a third child in exactly the same way. Who would that baby have's so hard not to wonder.

That kind of love is a very strong emotion. It overwhelms all logic...because well, love isn't logical is it? Now as I watch Jack grow up, I'll be constantly reminded of this phantom 'may have been' baby missing from our family.

Well I guess I'll go shopping for a gift for the new little one. Shopping always helps, doesn't it?

::: posted by Melissa at 2:04 PM

Friday, May 23, 2003 :::
::Scott and Jenn::

Jenn: "You know I think I'd like to put some Clematis in the yard this summer."
Scott: "Please don't tell me about your 'female' troubles."

::: posted by Melissa at 8:41 PM

::Another New York City Revelation::

Speaking of the f-word.

Walking along outside Penn Station...I spotted a t shirt. It was truly brilliant.

It read:

Fuck You, You Fucking Fuck.

I loved the shirt and was truly tempted to buy it. But then realized, where would it ever be appropriate to wear such a t shirt?

Park Day with MOMS Club?
Wednesday Playdate?
Dinner with friends?
Library storytime?

I just can't come up with the right event for such a spirited shirt. It seems to me, New York City would be the only appropriate for that shirt. Because, pretty much that's what everyone is thinking as they push their way past you.

::: posted by Melissa at 4:43 PM

::In Other News::

Logan's second sample was "Swimmer Free"...he's officially sterile folks.

Thank GOD!

He has this to say, "Let the fucking begin"


::: posted by Melissa at 3:55 PM

::Is This Hell?::

I thought I was feeling better but I'm not. Only this is bad because I feel well enough to feel guilty for neglecting my 'job'. But trying to get anything done is oh so difficult.

I used to believe being pregnant and sick was the worst.

Then I had Madison...and I realized it was worse to be sick with a newborn requiring constant care.

Then I got pregnant with Max...and I realized it was worse to be sick, caring for an active toddler while pregnant.

Now I have a toddler who has a near constant stream of tantrums, a preschooler who wants to be doing all the time and this is the worst.

And you know what the wierdest part is?

Not even the fact that it's "Margarita Friday" is lifting my spirits in the least. Neither is the fact that my husband asked me out on a date this weekend. Nor is the fact that he just emailed me my three favorite words "Let's Eat Out"......I am sick.

Is it considered a bad thing to hide in the closet from your children?

::: posted by Melissa at 2:34 PM

::Oh, oh, oh...So NOT Bliss::

I woke up with a grapefruit sized swollen tonsil in the back of my throat on Wednesday. Was miserable.

Endured graduation with Maddie (that I was looking forward to, but felt so crappy I couldn't enjoy it).

Came home, dropped everything I was carrying in my hands because Logan slammed the back door making it impossible to open.

While shutting the door and holding Max, my shoe twisted funny and down I went, hitting Max's head into the back door and also peeing my PANTS a bit...because I had a totally full bladder and the cruelest joke yet of motherhood is my weakened bladder in times of trauma. Lovely.

I had to go to the docs and have a mole removed while there he looked at my tonsils and said, and I quote "Sweet Jesus, what the hell is going on in there"

Yesterday I woke up and began vomiting at 8 am until 3:30 pm. Literally once an hour but more often twice an hour. And in between I wished I would die.

Today I still feel as though someone punched me deep in my throat but at least I am not vomiting.

Oddly, I didn't want a drink once during that time (which is typically my method of coping). Though I did have a delicious dose of Nyquil last night and slept like a baby.

Along the same topic. I love Logan and I think he is a gem among men. Last week while with my sister in law and her sister, swapping husband stories, they remarked several times "Is he gay, I don't get it."

During one of our conversations we discussed what exactly it is I do. Because Logan does the grocery shopping, he typically cooks our meals, he does laundry most of the time, he always does the ironing. Oh and he works at a demanding 9-5 job and has a thriving freelance business after hours.And he rarely complains about any of it.

However, he is a superman who never gets sick. I honestly can't recall a time he's ever had the flu or even a serious cold. As such, he has absolutely NO sympathy for someone who has given into illness. I swear he thinks it's a personal weakness. He has no ability to care for me or nurse me back to health. He is entirely impatient with the fact that when I'm vomiting every hour on the hour, I just might not unload the dishwasher that day.

God knows I love him and it's really a small dent in his suit of armor, but tell me what kind of man makes his sick wife cry because the house is a mess and she's laying on the sofa in the depths of hell?

Thank God for my mother. Without her I would have killed myself and my children yesterday, or at least vomited on one or both of them.

::: posted by Melissa at 10:22 AM

Wednesday, May 21, 2003 :::
::Is There Anything Wrong With These Shoes?::

Okay, I admit it, these shoes are a little on the gay side of things. But the boy needs sandals and these seemed as good as any.

Max does not agree at all. In fact trying to put these particular shoes on him yesterday resulted in a tantrum. Not just a tantrum, a wild and out of control freak out from Hell. Complete with my adorable angel of a child trying to gouge my eyeballs out with his nails.

Today Madison graduated from preschool. The children wore little graduation caps, but they looked a little like Fez. Like a bunch of very short Shriner's. I wanted to laugh out loud but controlled myself for the sake of Madison's reputation.

Also Madison has talked about marrying a particular little boy from preschool. He's a good irish boy with a thoroughly irish name...but I think the magic between them was spoiled today when, during graduation, her future husband began to sob uncontrollably with terrible stage fright. I think Maddie was embarassed for him, as was I. I'd really like her to marry Charlie from school...because I think his mom is an absolute riot and I'd like her to have a good mother in law.

Actually, back to my point. Madison wore the most ridiculous outfit to her graduation. She refused to wear the adorable silk plaid capri pants I've had waiting for over a year for her to wear. Instead she wore an old skirt of hers and a pair of stupid sandals. At least she went without socks for once.

At least Madison did not attempt to tear my eyeballs from my head...of course I caved into her refusal to wear her cute outfit. I suppose she doesn't want to look cute. She would rather look like a child with a mother who never buys her anything nice.

Sigh....why do my children have such strong opinions about what they will and will not wear? Someone tell me please?

::: posted by Melissa at 2:00 PM

Tuesday, May 20, 2003 :::
::New York City Revelation::

I think my brother married me in a legal and non deep south type of way.

The odd thing is, usually I don't like people that are like me. Deeply rooted self loathing I am sure. But my sister in law is hilarious and bitchy in nearly the exact way I am, and still I like her. It's odd and I'm so happy to have a sister in law that I actually like because the one's I've inherited from Logan's family leave a whole hell of a lot to be desired.

I'll get to the big trip later...I have catching up to do.

::: posted by Melissa at 4:50 PM

Thursday, May 15, 2003 :::
::How To Watch Porn With Your Sister Without Being Entirely Creepy::

So after lunch Madison and I are flying out to New York City. We won't be staying in a hotel, but going on a trip always reminds me of staying in a hotel watching Scrambled Porn on the naughty channels.

My sister turned me on (no pun intended) to this fun little game a few years ago. It's quite addicting.

Scrambled Porn is the porn you see and hear through the cable's scrambling mechanism. Every once in a while you'll hear a sound or see some particularly suggestive movement. Sometimes the scrambling even stops enough where you can actually see something that is Actual Porn and not Scrambled Porn, this is to be avoided in general because then you're actually creepy. I'm sure this is strategically done so that you'll call the front desk and order up the "All Night XXX Special" But that would of course ruin the fun.

I never thought I'd sit in a hotel room with my sister and her male friend and watch porn, or Scrambled Porn really. But it was admittedly addicting. The game part of Scrambled Porn is calling out what's happening.

Sometimes it's fairly obvious what's happening but other times you might wonder aloud, 'Now, why is that man doing that to the back of that woman's head?" or "Hmm, odd how he's doing that to her that tantric?" or "Why are they playing with water balloons?"

Sometimes you'll ask, "Now what the hell is that?" and then there's a moment where you all realize what that is....and there's a collective "Oooh..." in the room.

It's really amusing and I highly recommend it at your next party.

::: posted by Melissa at 9:34 AM

Wednesday, May 14, 2003 :::
::This is really freaking me out::

I'm going out of town tomorrow for 5 days. I just got an email from Netflix informing me that "Anna Nicole Smith: Skyscraper / To the Limit" is on it's way to my home.

Logan claims someone from work recommended it for it's ridiculousness and since we're not paying for individual titles's fine. But it's really scaring me that the man I love and have spawned two children with actually picked this movie to watch. I thought "Roadhouse" was an odd choice but this is truly shocking.

In all honesty I would rather have gotten an email from Netflix saying "Your copy of 'Teenage Tit Freaks' is on it's way"

I wonder what else he'll be doing while I'm away. Perhaps an 'Anna Nicole Show' marathon on E!?

::: posted by Melissa at 3:19 PM

::No Central Air Is A Crime Against Humani::

On the drive out to my in law's home, there is a sign painted on the side of a barn. It reads "Nuclear Weapons Are A Crime Against Humani"

Okay, there is some evidence of a t and a y that were once a part of this sign, but I like to pretend it says Humani because it sounds like some asian fusion dish. I think it's funny, which wasn't the point of the sign and if the guy really feels so strongly about nuclear weapons, he really should repaint the t and the y. Because I am certain I am not the only one who giggles everytime they see that sign.

I'm a little like an ostrich with my head in the sand about things I have no control over, like nuclear weapons, so I'm not sure they're truly a crime against Humani. But you know what is a crime? Not having central air.

Anyone who knows me, even my 4 year old, realizes at this point how poorly I tolerate the heat. How I become a raving bitch and no amount of alcohol relieves me of this heat controlled mood swing.

Last year my husband went to Utah on business for 10 days. The first 5 days were just fine. It was early June, the weather was nice, just warm enough, no humidity. Then the second half of the trip all hell broke loose on my Humani.

It was so hot and we have no air. Well, we have a nasty window unit...but we try to avoid putting it in the window because it's so trashy. So there I was, 15 month old and 3.5 year old, living like a God forsaken pioneer woman. Which would be fine if I was a pioneer woman, but I'm not. I am a suburban housewife trying to take care of my kids and my house and it's a hard thing to do when sweat is pouring down your face. In this modern age, how is it possible to not have central air?

It's barbaric.
It's cruel.
It's a "reality" of our current budget. Oh, yes that.

I rant about it every year. Every year I say, "That is IT! You are selling that motorcycle and we're getting a new furnace and central air. I refuse to live like a cavewoman any longer!!!"

And then I realize, about July, that it's never going to happen.

I complain about the heat all summer. Anyone that will listen hears it. Sometimes they try to commiserate....but I ask, "Oh, do you have central air?" They say "Oh yes, of course." And that is when I close my ears to their pitiful complaints.

You don't know hot until you are trying to get a toddler and a preschooler dressed and out the door. You don't know hot until you are 6 months pregnant in August and it's 90 degrees and you're putting nasty maternity nylons on your fresh from the shower sweaty legs.
You don't know hot until you can't even move in your own home because moving only makes it hotter.

I have a friend, John, and he has always felt the same violent anger about the heat that I do. He always understood. They never had central air in their two apartments and then in their house. He had the same look of utter exhaustion in the heat that I have.

He and I could sit for hours describing the hell that is life in an inferno of a house. We swapped stories of our heat induced rantings. We shared our best tips for keeping the house as cool as possible (mine involves strategic fan placement and a strict schedule of window openings and closings...). He understood why as I drove around my neighborhood I spied in people's yards looking for their central air units outside. He understood the envy and disbelief I felt when I saw a particularly trashy house with central air. He understood how I judged each of my neighbors central air worthiness. He got it. No one else does, because everyone else has FREAKING Central AIr. Or maybe because it's crazy to think so much about it....but it's what the heat does to you.

We went to John and Julie's house for dinner on Saturday. John sheepishly mentioned their new central air unit. I know he didn't want to tell me. He knew it would crush me. It did. I mean I'm happy for them, but now he's crossed over to the other side. I can't talk to him about how hot it is. I can't tell him when I have a new window routine that's really keeping the house cooler. He won't understand anymore when I'm reduced to a crying puddle of tears and sweat. He's now one of them. He can complain about the heat but I won't be able to hear it. I'll close my ears and think...'Huh, why don't you turn down the thermostat dude?'

Of course, he did give me a peace offering....another practically new window unit for the south side of the house. I would tell him how I think this is really going to help our cooling of the kitchen/ back part of the house. I would tell him how I've decided to buy shades for the southern windows in the kitchen and how I think it's really going to make the kitchen more tolerable this summer...especially with the new air conditioner. I could tell him and his lovely wife thank you for the air conditioner, because I am thankful...but....

I'm in mourning over the loss of my fellow heat sufferer. I would ask someone to hold me but by the time I'll really need a hug, it will be too damn hot for such foolishness.

I know it's only May, and the weather right now is beautiful. Perfect really. But as May flies by, I realize we're only one high pressure system away from the heat and humidity and the madness that comes with that.

Pray for my Humani.

::: posted by Melissa at 3:05 PM

Tuesday, May 13, 2003 :::
::I Heartily Endorse This Ad Campaign::

God bless Zoloft.

Pure Genius

::: posted by Melissa at 3:36 PM

Monday, May 12, 2003 :::
::It's All Fun and Games Until The Cozy Coupe Rolls Over::

You know, there's been a lot of talk about SUV's and rollovers, but no one has ever mentioned a Cozy Coupe roll over to me.

Logan and I thought it would be fun to race the two cars towards one another as fast as we could with our kids inside. A game of Cozy Coupe Chicken if you will. It was quite fun for a while. Everyone was laughing and having a great time....

Until the time Logan swerved to miss Max and I with his Coupe. He hit a soft spot of grass on the edge of the sidewalk and next thing you know he's laying face down in the grass and Madison is pinned underneath the car with her legs trapped inside.

Madison is not hearty in anyway, like her mother, so this event was extremely traumatic for her. It was traumatic for me because first, it made me want to laugh really hard. Something about the absurdity of the game Logan and I were playing, like a couple of Jackass Parents everyone says "Man, you should have to get a liscence to be a parent." Something about the absurdity coupled with the fact that the scene was really, really ridiculous. Logan laying face down in the grass, with a rip in his pants and grass stains on his face. The term "Ass Over Apple Cart" seems to apply here, or rather "Ass over Cozy Coupe". It all just made me want to laugh.

Which would have been very bad because all the neighbors were out doing yard work and saw all the JackAssery unfold. They were the people watching and thinking "Man, any asshole can have kids." So if I'd laughed as much as I really wanted to...CPS may have been knocking on my door.

And if they did, I think I'd have to sue Little Tykes for not adding a "Do not attempt to play 'Chicken' in your Cozy Coupe, potential roll over hazard." warning to the car. But then I'd have to admit in front of a jury of my peers I actually thought playing chicken with a 2 and 4 year old was a fine idea.

Oh, wait, I just did.

But was fun while it lasted, seriously.

Perhaps Logan and I should have a warning attached to our foreheads:
"May make poor choices and endanger the lives of their children."

::: posted by Melissa at 3:25 PM


Added last night:
::Me: "Wow, you're a great reader!"
::Her: "Yes, I need Hooked On'll improve my reading or your money back!"

Nice, really, really, nice.

::: posted by Melissa at 12:15 PM

Saturday, May 10, 2003 :::
::Top 5 signs your daughter is watching WAY too much television::

::"Look at those sensible shoes!" While out shopping.
::She comments, breakfast is "Delightful".
::"Well Mom, just enter to win!"
::"Boy this day is truly remarkable."
::"It's a wonderful dream come true!"

Yes, she watches way too much television. It's sad but it doesn't trouble me nearly as much as it really should. At least she's not swearing, she learns that from me.

::: posted by Melissa at 4:50 PM

Friday, May 09, 2003 :::

I feel it's my duty to inform all those who might come across this blog...and perhaps to remind myself one day when I'm writing my novel...Spill Proof Sippy Cups are a lie. It is a lie sent from the depths of hell to torture us.

Like today for example...I found a 'spill proof' (though, obviously, I use the term lightly) sippy cup on my sofa. Well....God Damn It if the there wasn't a puddle of milk on my sofa. I mean, obviously the Spill Proof Sippy Cup wouldn't have allowed that to happen. No, I just refuse to believe they'd call them SPILL PROOF if they actually spilled.

So, yes I punished my children terribly for spilling juice out of the spill proof's pretty obvious what's happened isn't it? My children would like to make me crazy so they are unscrewing the lids of the spill proof sippy cups and SPILLING the liquids on my furniture and rug.

This is exactly how Joan Crawford felt when finding those wire hangers in her daughter's closet....Hold on, I'm scaring myself.

A well meaning friend has pointed out that "Spill Proof" is's "Leak Proof" we're still looking for as protector's of upholstery and floor coverings. someone invent the "leak proof" sippy cup least before I buy that lovely Pottery Barn sofa.

::: posted by Melissa at 10:06 PM

::Disjointed Love-Fest For Madison

Her vomit awareness is really striking me this morning. I think she might just be as anally retentive and bizarre as I am. One time, not too long ago, I was very ill with the flu...but the bathroom was long overdue for a cleaning. I ran into the bathroom about to vomit, realized the toilet was disgusting...grabbed the toilet brush and a clorox wipe and disinfected and scrubbed the bowl....and timed my hurl perfectly.

My daughter is my vomiting soul sister. She made it to the bucket 4 times in the middle of the night. I'm so impressed. When I take her for kindergarten evaluation...I am definitely adding that to her list.

Another thing that tickled me silly this morning about her. Logan was really charmingly scratching his groin while talking to us. Madison looked at him and said "Daddy, you know that's something we do only in private." Which is what I tell her about touching her she was under the impression Logan was masturbating in front of the whole family.

First, ew.
Second, hilarious.
Third, more $$$'s for the therapy fund asap.

::: posted by Melissa at 11:32 AM

::You know, It Just Doesn't Get Any Better Than This::

Here is my evening last night.
  • Go to therapy, where my therapist once again harps on my little "Spending Above My Means, Sending Us To The Poor House" problem
  • Come home to my son...who is once again constipated and really pissed off about it.
  • Try to put him to bed but realize he's sweating and miserable with this poop issue.
  • Take him to the bathroom and practically force a poop out of him...I won't give you details...but it really was like heaven on earth....really.
  • Get him to bed. Get Madison to bed.
  • Start folding laundry and watching some really great design shows.
  • At 10:30 Madison begins round 1 of "Vomit All Over Yourself, Your New Quilt, Your Favorite Teddy Bear"
  • Begin clean up process.
  • Repeat vomiting at 11, 2, 4 and 7.....(though I am seriously impressed...she made it into the bucket every other time. I think that's excellent vomit awareness for a 4 year old. Should help when she tries to get into college.)

  • Tell just doesn't get any better than that....Sublime Parenting is the new name of my blog.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 11:24 AM

    Thursday, May 08, 2003 :::
    ::I feel really bad::

    I've been really trying to come up with a 'love Madison' set up. It's not that I don't love her you's just that she's, well, 4....and as a friend's father once pointed out, "Four year olds are really just very smart two year olds."

    So take the terrible two's and multiply by, well....2 and there you have the Terrible Fours.

    I promise to be very lovey all over her very's just that currently she's being so terribly 4.

    We're taking a trip to New York City with my favorite sister in law next week. A girl's weekend with my sister in law's sister and her neice. I should (God Willing) be recharged on the Madison factor after that trip.

    Much to Logan's and eating out and spending money...well it might just be the glue that binds my daughter and I.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 8:42 PM

    ::Does the fact that this makes me laugh make me a really bad mother?::

    Because it's really making me laugh, everytime I look at it.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:51 PM

    Wednesday, May 07, 2003 :::
    ::The Japanese::

    I love sushi and I think it's a lovely gift from Japan to share it with us. I also love well made, well priced japanese automobiles. I've taken public heat for driving a Japanese car but I endure it...because I have a well made and well priced car and that is that.

    I think karaoke is another 'gift' from Japan. I think karaoke is actually a small price to pay for the joy of sushi and fine automobiles.

    I used to think there wasn't enough liquor in this world to make me do karaoke....I was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

    A few gin gimlets and I was a **Superstar** singing some song....a song I didn't even know I knew the words to. I don't even remember the song now. I'm blocking.

    But you see, I still love the spite of the karaoke thing.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 11:16 AM


    ::I Hate My Uterus::

    That's all, I hate it. It's a useless organ at this causes me nothing but monthly irritation.

    Remember that guy who was removing men's testicles in Oak Park? Since he got in trouble for that...maybe he could move onto removing uteruses.

    I'll be his first customer.

    How long do you think I have until menopause...I'm 29 now. Like another year or something?

    ::: posted by Melissa at 10:11 AM

    Tuesday, May 06, 2003 :::
    ::Things I Love About Max::

    Since Madison is already doomed to therapy for the rest of her life simply because of (but not limited to) the fact that Max has modeled for 4 catalogs and other print materials and she has not modeled for anything. Since that's already established, I thought since I've spent so much time griping about the babes...I might spend a little time talking about why it is I would swallow them both whole if I had the chance.

    The reason I am doing Max first is because, on his way into the bathtub just now....totally nude....he was running around laughing and pulling on his penis. Vive Le Sexualite!

    He does this thing where he twists his feet when he's content..kind of like purring for a cat. Around and you might do to stretch out your muscles before a work out. He does it because he's happy.

    I love how he doesn't talk, but he thinks he talks. He keeps babbling and babbling...he has inflection and he babbles with his hand like I do. Sometimes I even wonder if he thinks I'm the one who's babbling.

    He does communicate "NO" and "Okay".....negative or affirmative, which is all you really need anyway.

    I love how if you tell him he's cold...even when it's sunny and warm...he hugs himself and chatters his teeth.

    If you say anything with an upward lilt to your any sentence or situation, he raises his hand and says "ME!" For Example:

    "Who wants dinner?"

    "Who wants to balance the checkbook?"

    "Who wants a spanking?"

    "Who thinks Bush is an idiot?"

    Really, you get the idea...but the possibilities are truly endless. If I can keep this going until he's a grown man...imagine the lucky wife (or husband) who will get him? Imagine....

    "Who wants to clean the bathroom?"

    "Who wants to buy me diamond earrings?"

    See? Who wouldn't love a man like that?

    I love that he can wear this dainty outfit and is still confident in his manhood.

    I love that he can look so happy with an "Ocean Spray" corporate logo for a hair-do.

    I could go on but for now I'll end with this.

    How could you not fall madly, deeply and passionately in love with a boy with eyes like this

    and lips like this?

    ::: posted by Melissa at 7:47 PM

    ::My Model Men::

    This is a shot taken for a Dodge ad.

    This hand was holding a rice krispie treat....because our son wouldn't smile unless he had a rice krispie treat in his hand. There was also a bottle of beer on the hood of the car, to keep Logan happy, but that was edited out as well.

    Logan just got word that this picture will be blown up huge for some convention display. Would you like to see Logan's BIG HEAD?

    ::: posted by Melissa at 3:48 PM

    ::Anne Lamott Saved My Life::

    I mean it....actually I mean she saved Max's life. Read about her here:

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:31 PM


    ::If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Already::

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:20 PM

    ::More Confessions::

    At this exact moment my lovely daughter is crying because it's rest time and I refuse to dress her doll for her. Mind you I've already dressed 2 stuffed dogs, 1 barbie and I helped her change her own outfit one time as well.

    I refuse to go back into the room and now she is sobbing hysterically.

    Now I realize on the scale of a 4 year olds emotions...this is probably pretty up there. But sometimes, and here's the confession, I just can't stand that children are so emotionally unstable.

    Oh here's the topper...she has fallen asleep. I love sleep so much I just can't imagine crying as a method of falling asleep. It's such a lovely thing...I blissfully roll into it. Ahh...sleep....I'd like to go to sleep right now.

    I try to relate to these outbursts of unbridled emotion...but sometimes they just don't make sense. The only times I've sobbed from pure exhaustion were during the first years of my children's lives. During those years I lived like some twisted prisoner of war....every 2 hours startled awake by a cat like crying and forced to offer my raw nipple to my captor. Imagine putting an exposed tooth nerve into a vacuum was pure torture. Cruel and inhumane. Then just as the torture session would end and I'd blissfully fall back into sleep, sweet sleep, there would be that crying again.....

    You see so I guess I just can't relate to crying simply because your mother refuses to be your slave for 2.5 hours everyday in the afternoon. I guess in her world the two are somehow equalized...since this is probably the worst thing about her entire day, perhaps even her entire life, so far.

    I think I'll start sobbing hysterically and see what happens, maybe I'll fall asleep.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:13 PM

    Monday, May 05, 2003 :::

    ::It is the 5th of May today....and that's a holiday!::

      My rules for cocktailing are as follows....

    • Cocktails may be consumed after 5pm on any weekday.
    • You may consume cocktails at 4pm on any given weekday if you have visitors.
    • On 'Holidays' (see below for definition of 'holiday) you may drink as early as you would like.
    • While on vacation you may consume cocktails at any hour of the day.
    • On weekends you may consume cocktails after 12 noon.

    Holidays are defined as any day on any calendar defined as a holiday. Holidays are also defined as days one feels are worthy of celebration. (IE: Back to School, Birthday, Income Tax Refund Arrival Day....)

    Back to my original point. Today is Cinco De Mayo and I have yet to have a single cocktail and it's already 4:30. I have catching up to do! Ole!

    Drunken Drunken I come!

    "Hello? Yes when shall I pick up my "Bad Mother" crown? Or will you be shipping to me?"

    ::: posted by Melissa at 4:29 PM


    ::I Hate The Hungry Hungry Hippos::

    Hate everything about this game. It's loud. I hate the connotation of obese people wildly eating....eating so wildly, they don't seem to notice they're eating marbles. I hate that my children never get tired of this game. I hate that my son is crying at this exact moment saying 'HIPP-OHHHHHHH' over and over again while pulling my arm because he wants me to play this horrific game.

    Hellish Hippos would be a better title.
    Horny Hippos would be way more amusing. Hippos wildly fornicating.
    Or what about...
    Nice and Quiet Hippos Sitting Around Entertaining Themselves For More Than Five Minutes

    That's got a nice ring to it indeed.....I'll send it in to Mattel as soon as I finish yet another round of Hungry Hungry Hippos.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 4:22 PM


    • I have picked up a binky off the ground and given it back to my infant son without so much as wiping it off.
    • I bribe my children continually with lollipops.
    • I actually believe my job is so draining, it's very hard to do if you're not hung over in some way.
    • My daughter swears like a truck driver and takes the lord's name in vain. She uses JackAss as a term of endearment....just like me. Even worse, I think it's sort of cute.

    **Does this mean I win the "Bad Mom" pagent?

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:45 PM


    I realized something today.

    In the morning I hate my house. It seems like it's always dusty. The dust bunnies seem to be in a perpetual race across the hardwood floors. In the morning the sunshines in...and it's really beautiful, but then I can see exactly how much dust there is.

    No amount of Swiffering stops this madness.

    Then last night I was sitting in the living room...and by the light of know, it really looks pretty darn clean. The dust bunnies are well hidden since the sun isn't highlighting them. It's then that I feel at ease....all without dusting!

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:29 PM


    ::Analyzing My Level Of Hell::

    I don't consider myself a violent soul...I never feel like hurting anyone. I've never punched anyone. My sister and I used to have some nasty cat fights...but we outgrew those at some point.

    Once I threw a glass bottle at Logan...but he was being so very was really beyond my control. I know God was on my side in that one.

    So I've been wondering how I ended up in the Violent 7th level of hell...."Extreme" was my score. I just don't understand how that happened.

    I've thought about committing violent acts.

    One that I feel just a little bad about happened while I was post partum. I was with a friend who was still pregnant (I had a 3 month old infant) and I was having a hard time losing the pregnancy weight. She was nearly 9 months pregnant and was lamenting all the weight she'd gained.

    • "Would you believe I'm 140 POUNDS? My God! I'm huge!"

    I thought I would fall through the floor....I was still 140 pounds three months after giving birth!!

    Perhaps this was the moment I crossed over into this level of that moment I wished I could slap her or do some other mean spirited thing to her and her skinny pregnant self.

    And you know what else, I wish I felt bad about thinking that...but I don't. I really don't. I really didn't like hearing that a nine months pregnant woman weighed as much as I did.

    And, so, analysis complete. I am actually a very cruel person.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 1:19 PM

    Sunday, May 04, 2003 :::

    ::I Have No Musical Taste At All::

    Is it uncool to like the 'White Stripes' yet? Because I'm starting to like them and if I do...this means a lot of people do and as I understand it, this begins to look like 'Pop' (get it: Pop=Popular).

    So I apologize in advance to the 'White Stripes'...I'm sorry I've decided to like your music thus representing a nation of sheep-like music listeners.

    I hope your next album is way too over my head for me to ever really appreciate.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 10:57 PM


    ::Mother's Day::

    With mother's day just around the corner...I've been thinking about the gift giving occasions in my life. What types of things would I ask my husband, children, mother, siblings for.....

    Looking beyond the things I want...which are plentiful indeed. It's an unending list of 'essentials' embarassingly self absorbed and spoiled list of what I think I must have.

    Past those things....

    Time alone is a cherished gift to me. It seems during a certain angst ridden time in my life I was alone quite a bit. I didn't cherish it and didn't even like it in the slightest. I felt simply alone. Since I have become an adult, surrounded with friendships, a wonderful husband, two adorable albeit needy children....time alone has grown into something more than being alone. It's become a time to slow my mind. To do as I please. To regroup. To listen to myself. The first time I realized I was severely lacking in the 'solitude' department was on a solo trip to Chicago last summer. I predicted I would become intensely tired of being alone in the car for that long...but somewhere between Michigan City and Gary, Indiana....I realized I was nearly to Chicago and I really liked being alone and hadn't once wished for someone to talk to. Maybe it was the fumes from Gary which made me delusional....but nonetheless, on my drive home from that Chicago weekend, I found myself coming up on Ann Arbor far too quickly for my taste.

    I have often wished my siblings and I could talk openly about our experiences growing up in our family. Not so much in the current sense we talk about things, which has tremendous value...seeing the humor in all of it is what has held us into adulthood I think. But in a more realistic way. Looking through old family photographs and talking about what we remember from that particular day. Good, bad, ugly...all of it. Just remembering it for what it was. Not searching for answers, not looking to place blame, not looking to release demons. Just acknowledging it was as shitty as we all remember it to be....and my God, look at us now. We're amazing....The Super Heros Of Dysfunction! The Dysfunctional Trio!

    Along the same lines...I would like my brother, sister and I to sit down and put together an album. Not just of us, but of our grandparents. My grandmother and grandfather's engagement the resort her parents owned. Pictures my sister found looking through my father's belongings of his experiences in Vietnam. Boxes and boxes of slides......glimpses of my father as a boy. Pictures of us as brother and his friends playing 'Secret Agents' with with my navy blue keds and long blonde hair at 3 years old....playing along on the porch.

    My brother has that picture on his mantel at his house in always makes me want to cry when I see it there. A happy memory on the porch of that hellish household. The fact that he and I can both see through all the shit and see a golden moment. It's truly amazing.

    I want us all to have an album made up of each of our memories...the things we remember as important...that make up a collective memory of our growing up. I think we'd all understand one another a little better through those pictures and the memories they'd evoke.

    So...let's see, I want solitude and a deeper understanding of where I have evolved from.

    Okay, that or a handcrafted piece of art from Madison, a massage and breakfast in bed would be fine too.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 10:40 PM



    Therefore, when you say "Oh, shoot, I forgot my PIN number!" What you are actually saying is "Oh, shoot, I forgot my Personal Identification Number-number...."

    That sounds dumb. I don't want anyone to sound dumb.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 9:45 PM

    Saturday, May 03, 2003 :::

    ::Nails on chalk board to me::

    "Your misspelling this contraction"

    it is actually....

    "You're not misspelling this contraction"

    The apostrophe replaces the a in this contraction.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 11:14 PM

    Friday, May 02, 2003 :::

    And I Thought Max's Enema Was the Ninth Rung Of Hell.....

    The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
    Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
    Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Very Low
    Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Very Low
    Level 2 (Lustful)High
    Level 3 (Gluttonous)High
    Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Very Low
    Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Very High
    Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Low
    Level 7 (Violent)Extreme
    Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)High
    Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Moderate

    Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

    ::: posted by Melissa at 11:05 PM


    ::Only Children::

    Something I realized about only children. I've met a few only children and half of them seem emotionally troubled to me. But then half of the people I've met with siblings seem emotionally troubled to me. (Myself included)

    I think what's missing from the Only Child's perspective is the ability to love and hate someone with equal strength....and to feel like that's okay.

    That is the gift of siblings in my world. I have at different times in my life hated with all my being one or both of my siblings. At the same time I've been able to hold tight to the simple bond of blood until those feelings find an easier and more true relationship on the other side.

    To me, a huge caveat to friendships has been the ability to simply leave when things were hard. Not take a break...just cut ties and move onto other friendships. With siblings, if you hate them at a specific time, there's only really one choice. Take a break. After the air has cooled you can come back together.

    My brother and I hated each other with fiery passion. If he hadn't been my brother...well, first of all, I've no idea what the hell he'd have been doing in my life...given that he's 6 years older than me. But if he'd been simply someone I knew, he and I never would have been able to live through the storms of our adolescence and early adulthoods.

    But the fact that we were siblings...that he is my brother and I am his sister...kept our connection, though tenuous, always there. As we both came to a different place...we've been able to be friends again.

    That is a gift to me. I can't imagine what my life would be like without my siblings. Even if it meant my mother always favored her....or he always got away with murder...even that point of view has value.

    Life isn't always fair you know. And there's another lesson to learn from having siblings.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 10:44 PM

    It's so much easier for me to complain about the kids than it is for me to blabber about all the things I love about them? What is that about.

    :::Children and Alcoholics: Compare and Contrast:::

    I absolutely loathe those women who talk about their children as though they are God's gift to this world and everyone must realize it. I simply don't have that in me.

    Though I do actually think my children are the Messiah in whiney, needy and bratty form. I keep that knowledge of their divine-ness to myself.

    Out to dinner tonight with them. Logan and the wasn't like when we used to go out just Logan and wasn't like when we go out alone the two of wasn't like when we're out with friends who don't bring barbies and crayons to the table.

    You know what it was like? It was like taking your alchoholic friend out to dinner....they've had a little too much and don't exactly recall the social 'rules' most of us live by. So you spend the entire night trying to keep them conversation, in their barbies, or that great PEN they are currently infatuated with.

    Okay, well it was like that only...typically an alcoholic laughs and it's kind of embarassing and out of place. My kids laughter is like pure energy filling me up and recharging me for another day of the crap I really don't like about motherhood.

    The funny faces an alcoholic makes...are usually embarassing coming from an adult. But there is something about seeing my children make goofy faces, some of them that look like my own goofy faces, that recharges me and reminds me how badly I want to swallow them whole.

    Sometimes I think about doing an intervention on my children. "You know....this whiny talk is really really getting to all of us. We think you need help."
    Or, "You know, these public outbursts have got to stop. Laying on the floor of the grocery store, it's just not acceptable."

    "Please Max, help us help you!"

    Like alcoholics, I sometimes feel like my children are sort of like the pink elephants in the room. Everyone's afraid of upsetting them. Disturbing their fragile hold on their world.

    But you know, alcoholism like behaviors or not....sitting with them is what I've always pictured my family to look like. A little unstable, but laughing and having fun. I think that's all I could ever ask for.

    Did I mention how adorable they are? Even Logan.

    It is true I didn't realize I couldn't be a parent until I already was one, so I may be a crappy parent but my God I make adorable kids. Emotionally unstable perhaps....but adorable and generally well adjusted.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 10:35 PM

    :::A Question:::

    Is my life actually as boring as it seems. I mean when I write it down, does it resemble other people's lives or am I the only freak with a supremely boring life?

    For example......

      My Day So Far

    • Woke at 8:30am
    • Got breakfast for children.
    • Fed fish.
    • Dressed Max
    • Forced Madison to endure hair brushing torture.
    • Finally got to pee.
    • Shower
    • Clean remainders of Beer-Za gathering last night
    • Force Madison to go brush her teeth.
    • Force both children into the car.
    • Drive to school.
    • Watch kids play and wait for my turn with teacher.
    • Conference-Madison IS smart enough for school.
    • Drive home with children screaming bloody freaking murder because dad isn't coming home with us until after work.
    • Run into market PUBLIC TANTRUM
    • Lunch
    • Naptime....THANK GOD!
    • Clean up house....
    • Plan evil plot to kidnap a maid to keep in the basement.
    • Computer time for me.
    • Kids up.
    • Snack time.
    • Clean up some more.
    • Margarita Friday....starting 4pm
    • Logan home.
    • Family out to dinner.
    • Home...bedtime.

    It's really so boring and it's typically like that. Jesus Christ.

    It's seriously no wonder half the mom's I know are on medication.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:52 PM


    Dirty Girl Decanter

    This is the dirty girl decanter.

    And so is this.

    The question that follows next. What is the Dirty Girl Decanter?



    The Dirty Girl Decanter is also a lovely 'antique' my sister in law came across and my brother simply had to have it.

    On an entirely other level....the Dirty Girl Decanter is a symbol of my brother's inherited bad taste.

    Logan will most likely attempt to steal it when we visit them next. But in the very least we'll share some refreshing beverages poured forth from her teat.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 2:05 PM


    My thought for the day...I'd like to get back to this later when I have an actual moment to think clearly.

    "The thing about parenting is you really don't know you can't do it until you're already doing it."

    Amen, God Bless, Good Night.

    ::: posted by Melissa at 9:41 AM

    Thursday, May 01, 2003 :::
    What's With This Guy?

    Jackassery In Suburbia

    This is a simple case of a gross man, masturbating in front of women. My mother's advice to me as a curious youngster seems to come into play here. "That's a fine thing to do, but it's something we do in private."

    A couple things I would like to note about this case.

    I absolutely love this quote...."She asked "what?" and he said "(This) is what," exposing that he was naked from the waist down and masturbating."

    "This is what!"

    I can just picture wierd-o freak-o sitting in his car naked (I hope he has leather interior in his Masturbation Transportation Machine)...and that's his "Pick Up Line"?

    These incidents also happened on Friday...maybe it was payday and he couldn't resist. I mean, I'm all for the 'Thank God It's Friday' mentality. But public masturbation just never seems to play into my joyous revelry.

    "You know, it's Friday...I just got paid, I've got the entire weekend ahead of me. Maybe I'll have a drink after, you know....fuck it...TGIF! I'm going to approach random women and masturbate for them!"

    Wooo HOOO!

    ::: posted by Melissa at 9:05 AM

    Where Neurosis Lives

    Outfitting Very Small Brides Since 2003!
    (also a lovely wedding keepsake)
    Miss Periwinkle



    Weblog Commenting by

    Powered by Blogger