Scenes from a (Blissdom) Party

Tanis, otherwise known as The Redneck Mommy, bravely showed up to speak at Blissdom with a bottle of painkillers and a cane, just ten days after undergoing back surgery. I met her and Catherine outside Fuse Nightclub for Blissdom's Friday night cocktail party and we immediately hit up the food table, which consisted mainly of fruit and a whole lot of cheese.

"Oh, I love cheese!" I said happily. "It's my thing now- I just finished doing Atkins and then South Beach and it was the one extravagance that didn't destroy my diet."

"I don't eat cheese," Tanis replied. "I like to poop."

"Well, that was a problem with Atkins," I admitted. "But on South Beach, you can eat broccoli and asparagus and soybeans, so pooping isn't an issue at all! I'm totally regular!"

"Well that's important," Tanis said. We both nodded in agreement and paused.

"Can you believe this conversation?" she asked.

"Yeah. I was thinking the same thing," I said. "Here we are in a nightclub, all dressed up for a cocktail party, dance music blaring, and I'm eating a napkinful of cheese and talking about staying regular to someone with a cane."

Suddenly, the fact that the AARP sent me a card last month with my name on it doesn't seem so extraordinary.

**********************

"This is a great party, Alli," I shouted to Blissdom's organizer over the pumping music a few minutes later. "Oh! And also! Someone told me to tell you that your red boots yesterday were awesome!" Alli gave me a strange look. "You know," I said, "Your boots! She really thought they looked great."

"Really?" she said uncertainly, "Well, what can I do? Wrap them around my neck and toss them over one shoulder? Which reminds me, I had on a really uncomfortable bra yesterday."

"Oh Alli," I said quickly, realizing what had happened. "I said boots. Not boobs. Boots."

"Oh!" she said.

Conversationally, where does one even go from there?

**********************

"He's taking pictures with everyone over there!" a blogger who shall remain nameless told us after Harry Connick, Jr. had finished singing at the party. "I just had mine taken with him! And guess what? I touched his booty!"

I choked on my French martini. "You what?"

"I touched his booty!" she repeated happily. "I just, you know, reached around and touched it!"

There's a punchline here somewhere. I just can't think of it.

************************

After my friends and I had our picture taken with Harry (not to worry, there was no inappropriate touching involved), I walked around the corner and was greeted by a woman with a wide and excited grin.

"Suburban Turmoil!" she shouted. "Floopdeesnicketysnee!"

"What?" I shouted back. (Remember, the music was loud, y'all.)

"Floopdeesnicketysnee!" she repeated. "Remember?!" I smiled back, totally confused.

"Floopdeesnicketysnee!" she said again. "We had a whole conversation about it on your blog!"

I hesitated. And then I grabbed her and hugged her. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

And you know? She totally seemed okay with it.

***********************

Emboldened by my hugging success, I decided to employ the strategy whenever someone said something that I didn't understand. After all, you know how those parties-with-really-loud-music are. I think I only caught about 50% of what was said to me the entire evening.

"Option number one!" a woman said at one point.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Option number one!" she pointed at me. Confidently, I grabbed her and hugged her. She looked vaguely horrified. I pulled back in confusion. Don't women like to be hugged?

I realized later that she was referring to this post on my style blog, had probably found it through my Blissdom tweets on Twitter, and didn't really have any idea of who I was.

Maybe I'll rethink that hugging thing.

**********************

Blissdom was really fun! Thanks to Barbara and Alli for a fantastic event!

In-Laws and Outlaws

You waited for it and now it's here...

The Mother-in-law of all Nashville Scene columns!

Head on over to the Scene and check out the best of the worst mother-in-law stories that were sent to my inbox last week. Thanks to everyone who sent me their stories- I wish I could have used all of them, but there were just so many! Hopefully, it was cathartic for everyone who participated to simply write them down! You seriously won't believe the ones I used in my column.

If you comment at the Scene, be sure and leave your URL so I can stop by your blog! Have a fantastic weekend, everyone!

On my style blog today: Absolutely fabulous and affordable black & white shoes for spring! And vote on what I wear to the Blissdom cocktail party tonight!

And! Today is your last day to enter to win a 2-lb box of See's Valentine's Day chocolates and a $50 Macy's gift card! You have a good chance of winning, so don't pass this opportunity by! Also, go here to enter to win an Aveeno Baby gift basket and here to enter to win a gift basket of um, romantic products!

The Produce Man is Officially Dead to Me

Yesterday was one of Those Days.

After 96 hours pent up in a snow-covered house with two wild children and one mopey teenager, I managed to finally break free from captivity and take the kids to a nearby indoor playcenter. Thirty minutes after our arrival, Punky hadn't found any suitable playmates and was ready to go.

Um. No. "The fifteen dollars I just spent says we aren't leaving after 30 minutes," I told her.

"But Mommy, I can't take it anymore," Punky whined. "I just want to go home and drink water from our refrigerator and lie in my bed."

"I've got a drink here for you and you can lie on that sofa over there," I responded. "There's no way I'm going to make Bruiser leave after thirty minutes just because you don't want to play here anymore."

Punky went to the sofa, lay down, stared at the playcenter's ceiling and cried a few crocodile tears. After about ten minutes, she returned.

"I really can't take it anymore," she insisted. "I really, really want to go home. This is the horriblest day in the whole world ever."

"Punky, the only way we can leave now is if you can convince Bruiser to go," I said finally. I had given her an impossible errand, but Punky didn't know that. She brightened and went off to find Bruiser, who was happily playing with about a hundred Hotwheels and a toy parking deck.

"Bruiser," Punky said in her sweetest voice, "Want to go home now and play video games with me?"

Bruiser looked up at her and frowned. "Never!" he said darkly.

The next hour passed in that manner, with Punky finding Bruiser every quarter hour or so, begging him to leave, and then returning to me with tears in her eyes.

"He spitted at me," she'd say. "I asked him if he was ready and he just spitted at me!"

"Okay, okay, okay," I said finally. I couldn't take it anymore. "Ask him if he wants to go to the grocery and push his own cart."

"YES!" Bruiser said from across the room. His selective hearing powers were truly amazing. He ran over to us. "Coat, Mommy!" he demanded. Happily, both children got their coats on and ran for the car. A trip to the supermarket was a banner day as far as they were concerned. And total hell for me.

But! I only had five items on my list! It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

As we entered the grocery, Punky chose a small cart for herself, while Bruiser opted to ride in a toy car attached to the front of a grocery cart. Unfortunately, the seat of the car was covered in snow.

"I ride in Punky's cart," he said, pointing at the child-sized cart.

"No," I said.

"I ride in your cart," he said, pointing at the basket of my cart.

"You have to ride in the seat of this cart," I told him. "You can't ride in the basket." The wailing commenced.

"It's okay, Bruiser," Punky said. "You can help me push my cart!" The wailing ended. Bruiser and Punky stood side by side and pushed the cart together into the grocery.

"Awww, aren't they cute?" A group of managers was standing at the front of the store with clipboards. They paused to watch Punky and Bruiser solemnly pass by. And that's when all hell broke loose.

"No, Bruiser!" Punky said. "Stop pushing it into the wall!"

"WAAAAHHHH!" Bruiser shouted. He slapped Punky on the wrist and she recoiled. "WAAAAHHHHHH!" He commandeered the cart and ran with it, letting it go just in time for it to crash into a display of flowers.

The managers stood frozen while I grabbed Bruiser's wrist and did the patented Mother Hiss. "Doyouwanttogohomerightnow (breath) sohelpmeifyoudon'tshapeup (breath) Iwillputyouinthenaughtycorner (breath) don'tyoudaredothatagain!" I said into his ear while he struggled mightily to free himself from my iron grip.

"Let's let Bruiser push the cart for a while," I told Punky. She slumped and shuffled along behind me while Bruiser pushed the cart. A minute later, he decided he was done pushing. That left me to bend over double and push the cart for both of them. Then Punky decided she wanted to push the cart again, which made Bruiser absolutely certain that he couldn't go on living unless he pushed the cart-- except that Punky wouldn't let him. So he sat down in front of the cart and refused to move. The two began arguing.

At that point in time, I. Had had. Enough. I left Punky and Bruiser to squabble among the potatoes and onions and headed for the Produce section, a few dozen feet down the aisle. As I chose an avocado for dinner that night, I smiled at one of the produce workers, who was standing beside me sorting eggplants. It was a man I exchange pleasantries with almost every time I go to the grocery- but for some reason, on this day he didn't acknowledge me.

Meanwhile, as expected, my sudden absence made Bruiser get up off the floor and run for me. Punky followed triumphantly with the grocery cart.

"Bruiser, you need to behave yourself," I said sternly to him when he got to my side.

"I not!" he said murderously, his chin in the air. "I not 'hayve myself! WAAAAAAARRRGGH!" I shuddered, instantly recognizing The Anti-Bruiser, a personality only displayed by my son on the rare occasions that he played too hard and skipped his afternoon nap. I looked over at Produce Man apologetically as his gaze met mine. "Someone needs a nap," I said, smiling. He didn't smile back.

"He was scared," he said firmly. "The only reason he was upset was because he couldn't see you and he didn't know where you'd gone." He shook his head and looked back down at his work. I stood there for a moment. My smile faded.

A thousand responses flooded my brain.

"Oh! Of course! You would know better than I would about how to handle the child I've spent NEARLY EVERY HOUR of EVERY DAY with for the last THREE FREAKING YEARS!"

"Of course! You're right! I was SO WRONG to walk 30 FEET AWAY from my son in an EMPTY GROCERY STORE! I should have CODDLED him and BEGGED him to get up off the FLOOR instead, TO MAKE YOU HAPPY!"

"Well! Judgy McJudgerson! What is it about EGGPLANT that makes you an EXPERT ON CHILDREARING?!!"

Instead, I turned, bent over, and pushed my two-foot-tall cart away with as much dignity as I could muster. Sensing my agitation, my children followed in silence. "You are dead to me," I hissed at the organic graham crackers as we walked. "I don't care how many times you've gone in the back for me to get more clementines. I don't care how neatly you stack the romaine. You, Produce Man, are dead to me. DEAD TO ME!"

Produce Man was relegated to the same vat of boiling oil in my mind as The Very Old Ice Cream Lady. I mean, I consider myself to be pretty open to criticism. You can tell me my lipstick is too red. You can make sure the word is out in Nashville and Los Angeles that I am not to be trusted. You can tell me that working from home isn't even in the same realm as being a working mother. But don't! Publicly criticize me! On how I'm handling my kids!

Or I will NEVER LISTEN TO YOUR RADISH RECOMMENDATIONS AGAIN!!!

Diary of a Snowed-In Housewife

Friday, January 29th, 2010

7:30am: Ordinarily, I'd be up, dressed, and getting Punky ready for school by 7am. But today, I sit at the kitchen table in my pajamas, feeling blissful as fat snowflakes fall outside. Between seven and nine inches of snow are predicted to blanket Nashville over the next 24 hours and we've already stocked up on milk, bread, eggs, firewood and wine. It's going to be a great weekend!

1:30pm: The snow continues to fall. Hubs is at work and the kids mercifully have no interest in going outside. Instead, we find other ways to stay entertained.


4:00pm: The children are getting a little stir-crazy but it's snowing too hard to play outside. Other mothers might feel a little frazzled right now, but not me! I don't get enough time with my children! Chocolate milk explosion in the den? No problem! Dried boogers smeared on the walls? I can totally handle it! Hooray for snow days! I'll keep repeating that to myself and it will be true! Hooray for snow days! Hooray! Hoo. Ray....

8:00pm: Hubs finally arrives home from work and helps me get the kids to bed early. Thank. God.


Saturday, January 30th, 2010

9:00am: I spend the morning cleaning up the mess from the day before and baking banana bread. Hubs gets home from a morning shift at work and we begin the process of getting the kids dressed to go outside, which takes about three hours. Tights. Long johns. Socks. Turtlenecks. Fleeces. Jackets. Snow pants. Gloves. Mittens. Hats. Scarves. Boots. Now it's my turn to put on snow gear. The children stand whimpering as I quickly put on my coat and scarf. "We're hot!" they complain. "We're itchy and hot!"

Finally, we all get in the car and head over to a friend's house in the next neighborhood. They have a hill in their backyard that's perfect for the ten and under crowd. They also have a kitchen with wine and beer that's perfect for Hubs and me.

Hooray for snow days! We have a blast.

Bruiser doesn't need to be asked twice to climb aboard.

At first, Punky doesn't think she wants to sled. She's scared. She needs to "get used to it." But finally, after much prodding, she agrees to ride with Daddy.

One ride and she's hooked.

Absolutely, completely, irrevocably hooked. She will spend the next two days sledding as often and as fast as she possibly can.

We spend an hour inside with our friends while the kids play upstairs, then return home for dinner and movie night, complete with a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Hooray for snow days!

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

10:00am: It is 14 degrees and most of the secondary roads are still covered in ice and snow. We decide to skip the drive across town to church- Luckily, they are streaming the services live on the web. We watch the sermon at the kitchen table in our pajamas. Hooray for snow days!

Afterward, we spend two hours putting on our snow gear and head over to the Natchez Trace Parkway, where we've discovered The Perfect Hill. We spend the next two hours sledding down it while I curse myself for forgetting my camera. It is the perfect day- so warm and sunny, we all strip down to our fleeces, yet still cold enough to keep the snow from melting.

We come back home and Hubs and Punky build a snowman outside while I stay inside with a sleepy Bruiser. By 5:00, everyone's back indoors and exhausted. It's been a great weekend, but I'm secretly looking forward to school starting back up tomorrow, as well as a chance to meet up with some of my girlfriends in the morning. I need to get out of the house and back on schedule.

But then...

"I'd bet our life savings that school's canceled tomorrow," Hubs says.

I stick my tongue out at him. "Yeah, right," I say. But then, as soon as he's not looking, I look up our district's website online.

SCHOOL CANCELED MONDAY DUE TO INCLEMENT WEATHER.

My heart leaps to my throat. How much of a snow vacation can one mother take?

Monday, February 1st, 2010

Bruiser wakes me at the crack of dawn. I stare dully at the hateful white snow outside my window, the snow that just. won't. melt. Soon, Punky's up and both children are running wildly around the house, screaming and laughing their heads off. Hubs is at work, along with our four-wheel-drive, so leaving the house is out of the question. I am a prisoner in my own home and there isn't enough Dr. Phil in the world to make me feel better.

Snow days. Paaaaaaah. Who needs 'em?

On my style blog today: Can I write a non-snarky post about bad Grammy fashion? What do you think? and Stay on top of the latest trend for under $20! and This hot runway hairstyle will totally solve your bad hair days!

And check out these great giveaways: Win a 2-lb box of See's Valentines Day Candies! Or! A basket full of Aveeno baby products! Or! A gift basket that just might come in handy after your next big date night!