Linkage

It's that time again- Time to get your asses over to my Parents.com blog (which, by the way, can be bookmarked at www.parents.com/theblender if you, you know, want to do that sort of thing) and see what kinds of ruminations I've spewed onto the screen over there.

This week, I'm thinking about the difficulties of parenting in our hyper-judgmental society. Oh for the days when we could plunk down our kids in front of The Price is Right and be done with it!

Speaking of passing judgment, I'm finding that once our babies turn three, judging them becomes fair game as far as other adults are concerned. Suddenly, Punky's being compared intellectually, physically, you name it, and I don't like it one bit.

And on the lighter side, find out how I used the powers of manipulation to con my way out of a day of marital bickering!

And here's proof this reviews thing is totally getting out of hand..

Over at my reviews blog, you'll find...

A new Disney film!
A new cartoon based on one of the world's greatest kids' books!
One of my all-time favorite movies is re-released!
A recipe website that won't make you fat!
A website that anyone buying a new TV should probably check out!
New snacks that you'll probably hide from your family, just like I did!
The world's best mattress cover!
A new concept in kitchen odor control!
And finally, a new website from two of my favorite bloggers!

This Girl Has Gotten (Some) Sleep

Okay, so THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your advice! I had/have gotten to that point where I was so tired that I couldn't even get up the energy to think of a solution. Isn't that sad? All I could do was crawl in bed each night and cross my fingers. Doing anything new was too exhausting to contemplate. But you guys gave me the kick in the pants that I needed.

Last night, I gave Bruiser rice cereal and he gobbled it up like a starving man. He had some trouble going to sleep afterward, but I finally got him down about an hour later. I decided to put him in the carseat to go to sleep and then transfer him to his crib a few hours later when I went to bed and he was in a deep sleep.

And that went well- I swaddled him tightly, popped the pacifier in his mouth and he conked back out in his crib. Punky slept in our room on the floor and I slept in her bed. Bruiser woke up two or three times, but each time, I re-swaddled him and he went right back to sleep, finally waking at......

7:30AM!!!!!!!!!!!!

Never in my life did I think I would be so excited to sleep until 7:30am.

Now this situation is far from perfect- I don't want to spend my nights running to his room to reswaddle him. He's incredibly strong and I can't imagine that there's anything out there (besides a straightjacket. Hmm...) that he won't work his way out of within a few hours. BUT. We're making progress. I had hoped that the swaddling would make transitioning from a carseat to a crib a little easier, and it looks like I was right.

So, any advice you have for step two of this process would be appreciated. How do I go from happy-swaddled-and-pacifiered-in-crib to simply happy-in-crib? I'm stumped.

McToiletgate Continues...

My litmus test for what would make a good blog post or column is simple: Would I tell this story to my girlfriends?

It's no more complicated than that. If it's a story I'd tell over martinis on a girls' night out or between the swings with my mom friends at the playground, then I know there's a chance you guys would enjoy reading about it, too.

And so, as I drove home from a freelance television production job I did a few weeks ago, that's exactly how I came up with a recent column. Wow, Martina McBride was surprisingly un-divalike, I thought to myself. I'll have to tell my girlfriends that the only thing she did wrong was forget to flush the toilet! I laughed out loud. And that's when I knew I had a column.

The column that I wrote should have been no big deal. The way I saw it, if Martina even read it, she would either consider it too minor and local (and maybe, dare I say, funny?) to even bother addressing-- or she'd have one of her "people" write a sarcastic and humorous letter to the editor assuring Nashvillians that she usually does flush, and that the situation I wrote about was highly unusual.

I certainly didn't expect television producers to send me threatening e-mails. I didn't expect my home phone number to be handed out freely to industry people with only the most tenuous connection to the story. I didn't expect this kind of end-of-the-world reaction by a very small group of people over a funny story that didn't seem to offend either her fans who read it (because be assured that my editor or I would have heard from them), or the many readers who responded on my blog about the column.

I don't like being bullied. I think it's wrong. I think Martina is amazingly talented and I think she seemed quite nice at the shoot (which I made clear in the column), but I don't think that a few hit records mean that if I, one of the "little people", have a funny encounter with her, I'm bound by some celebrities-are-above-us code not to write about it. And I think the industry fallout from this ruckus is painting a much darker, more humorless picture of the entertainment world than I realized existed.

That's why in this week's Nashville Scene edition of Suburban Turmoil, I wrote an open letter to Martina McBride. Some day, I'm sure I'll laugh again about McToiletgate. Right now, I think I'll just change my phone number.

Can't a Girl Get Some Sleep Around Here?

I had yet another 5:30am wakeup call today, thanks to Bruiser, and I'm beside myself with fatigue.

I'm tired, people. So very, very tired. I don't even know how I'm functioning during the day. Bruiser wakes up three or four times a night wanting to eat. I'm able to get him to go back to sleep with a pacifier one of those times, if I'm lucky. The other times, I have to feed him. Add to that a wake up call somewhere between 5:15 and 5:45 and it's like Night of the Living Dead around here.

So I'm turning to you, dear moms, grandmoms, and child rearers of the Internet. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Crying it out isn't an option- He doesn't have a room of his own, and I can't put my husband or Punky, his future roommate, through that, not to mention the fact that as hardened as I seem, I can't bear to let him cry for more than a minute or two without picking him up. Also, you should know that he's STILL SLEEPING IN HIS CARSEAT (another guilty secret!). I have a pack and play in our room, too, but every time I put him in it, he wakes up and cries until I put him back in his carseat. I'm thinking of swaddling him for his falling-asleep feeding and then putting him in his crib, but it's too warm here to do that just yet.

Punky slept through the night from two weeks on, so I can't help but think that this is my punishment...

But still- Surely one of you out there has a solution!

Guilty Secrets, 2007

Someone linked recently to my Guilty Secrets post from last year and I've started getting a few new comments there. Since it sparked such a response from you guys and I have all new guilty secrets now, I decided it's time for an update. Maybe we can make this an annual event.

However, I'm one year older and wiser and I want to make one small change. This time, I'm going to list five guilty secrets and five things I'm doing right as a mom/stepmom. I'd love to read your guilty secrets in the comments, but if you participate, be sure to leave some good things about your mothering skills as well. So here goes...

Guilty Secrets

• Just like last year, I STILL let Punky drink from a bottle before naptime and bedtime. She's three. That is all kinds of wrong, I know.
  
• I bribe my daughter. All the time. And it works.
• When I get food I like at the supermarket, I hide it so that none of the kids will eat it.
  
• I'm pretty sure Punky hasn't had a bath in going on four days now. Gah, I'm scaring even myself.
• For all my good intentions and efforts, my house is usually a wreck.
  

On the Other Hand...

• I started a home preschool one day a week and Punky and I "play preschool" and do various lessons and crafts several times a week. I can tell it's working and that makes me feel so good, I can't even tell you.
• I cook dinner and my family eats together almost every night, the laundry gets done and folded and put away once a week, and for all the toys and schoolbooks and stuff strewn about, I do a lot of regular deep cleaning and disinfecting.
  
• I've gotten myself and the little ones to almost all of the girls' soccer games. I make the older girls mix CDs and we religiously watch certain TV shows together. I ask them tons of questions and know a lot about what goes on in their lives.
  
• I really, truly love being a stay-at-home mom. That surprises even me. But in many ways, I've never been happier or more fulfilled.
• I do quite a bit of hugging and cuddling with the little ones. Punky was the only soccer player Saturday hugging the other girls on the field during the game and at first I was embarrassed. But then I realized that was something to be proud of. At three, she thinks hugging is a wonderful gesture that any child will appreciate and that makes me happy.

The sad thing about these two lists is that I felt the need to explain all of my faults to you in great detail and the reasons behind them, and I also felt like I needed to tone down the good stuff so that it wouldn't sound too braggy. Ugh. Resist those urges, please. It's a nice exercise in self-control.

Take a Gander

Want to know why I suck as a stepmom?

Ever wondered what I think of those who've criticized my parenting skills?

Are you dying to know the latest parental shenanigans on the preschool league soccer field?

You'll have to head over to The Blender to learn the answers to these burning questions.

Plus! Suburban Turmoil Reviews!

• There's a Clinique promotion for the college crowd.
• There's a bizarre coffee product (that I'm drinking right now, actually and yes, it really is pretty darn good).
• There are two book reviews, one which would make a great Christmas present for your dadone that I think every parent of teens could benefit from reading.
• There's a cool new Diego special coming up on Nickelodeon.
• And finally, there's a GIVEAWAY!!!!
  

Whew. Time for me to take a little writing break.

More Proof That a New Mom and Her Money are Soon Parted

Thanks to my friend Rachael for finding another item for my baby shower unregistry: The stimulation top. It's always a bad sign when the model looks humiliated, isn't it?

Anyway, here's the description:

The luxurious soft cotton of the Yes! SuperBaby™ Stimulation Top, textured straps and attachment rings promote visual and tactile stimulation for the child. The top consists of one multi-colour stimulation zone which caters for babies of 4 months and older. This colourful design can be flapped open to reveal a high-contrast black and white stimulation zone for newborns up to 3 months.

The Yes! SuperBaby™ Top is worn by the parent/carer and thus allows the stimulation zones to be easily viewed and touched by the infant. The top also includes two rings that allow to attach rattles, teethers, books or small toys. The advantage of being able to add and remove toys is that a child can play with her/his favourite toys. Improves daily life for mothers as you can keep your child entertained while you can multi-task on the phone, internet or during travelling with the baby on your lap!

What. The. Hell. Seeing as the "stimulation zone" coincides neatly with the um, boob zone, I have to wonder: Who exactly is supposed to be stimulated here? The baby, or the mama? Because my stimulation zone, in my humble opinion, really doesn't need to be messed with by my baby at playtime, thank you very much, nor do I want rings or teethers attached to it.

Besides, this stimulation top is really expensive. 34 pounds equals what... around $70? I can make my own for way less.


On sale now for the low, low price of, um, $60! Just let me know if you want me to make you one.

Go Ahead. Make My Day

At my stepdaughters' Parents Night last night, a mom stopped my husband in the hallway.

"Remember me?" she said. "Our daughters were in junior high together!"

"Oh, yeah," he bluffed, smiling.

She looked at me beside him. "And were you in a class with Gabby?" she asked.

I grinned wildly. "No," I said happily. "Actually, no I wasn't."

She paused and her eyes traveled down to Punky and Bruiser in his stroller. "Oh my! I thought you were a student here," she said, before giving me an embarrassed look and heading on down the hall.

"Thank you!" I called out after her. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in weeks!"

The mom looked back at me and we both started laughing.

When Dads Attack, Preschool Edition

Meet George.

As you can see, he is one devoted dad. So devoted, in fact, that when a girl on Punky's Under-Six soccer team kept scoring goals, he lost it. Lost it. On a field full of little girls.

Apparently, George mistook these three-footers for pro-football players.

"I'm sick of watching this!" he shouted at Hubs, who's coaching Punky's team, from the comfort of his field chair. "Win at any cost, eh? Win at any cost! That girl shouldn't be playing!" On and on he went, louder and louder, waving his coffee cup for emphasis.

'That girl,' a five-year-old who'd been added to our team by the league last week, looked over at him uncertainly. George's team had a mix of three and four-year-olds, while our team had five three-year-olds and one five-year-old, so I wasn't sure what grounds he had for complaining.

After a few minutes, Hubs decided he'd had enough. "Who's keeping score?" he shouted back finally. "What's your problem, man? You need to get a life!"

Hubs left the field and grabbed two league officials to deal with Crazy George. While we were waiting for the game to resume, George kept yelling. I went over to him.

"You really need to stop," I said. "You're losing it in front of a bunch of children. The kids on the field don't even know whether they're winning or losing, so what do you care?"

"Yeah," a mom from his own team agreed. "It's really not a big deal, George."

"It is a big deal!" he shouted, standing up. "I'm sick of this! Sick!"

"Be quiet!" another dad from his team called over to him. At that point, his team's coach walked over to him and got in his face. "George!" she boomed. "Sit down and SHUT UP!"

The coach, I later learned, was his wife. The league officials came over. George kept yelling.


"They have a five-year-old on their team. It's not right! I'm sick of watching this! Get her off the field!"

"You know, maybe you should take this up with the Executive Board," one of them suggested. "This really isn't the time or place."


"I don't wanna take it up with the Executive Board!" he bellowed. "I wanna take it up now! Get that girl off the field!" Around him, the older brothers and sisters of the players stared in fascination.

Eventually, George noticed that I was taking pictures while the other parents on my team laughed. "You're gonna write about this, right?" one mom asked.

"I apologize!" Crazy George called over to me. "I'm sorry!" He kept quiet for the remainder of the game. But George had more tricks up his sleeve. The next day, he sent out an e-mail to all of the members of his daughter's team, accusing Hubs of recruiting a "5+ ringer" in order to "win at any cost." "This guy's been around the block a few times," he assured them. "Knows every trick in the book." To prove his point, he attached Hubs' bio from the Internet, which said that he'd been a soccer coach for 6 seasons. The bio also contained personal information about my family. Creepy.

Luckily, George isn't very bright. Among the people he sent the e-mail to were the parents of the "5+ ringer" from our team. Somehow, George didn't realize that they also had a daughter on his team. Obviously, they were furious when they saw the e-mail.

As of yesterday, both daughters have been moved to our team. We've heard that George's wife has stepped down as coach. We play their team again at the end of October. If George is there, I predict it will end in some kind of George vs. the parents from both teams free-for-all.

Ah, the magic and wonder of preschool soccer!

Mad Dad Coming Up.. But First, The Emmys.

Vanessa Williams refused to address rumors that she and Big Bird are secretly engaged.

Word is that Rebecca Romijn is trying to secure a role in "The Stepford Chainsaw Massacre."

A pregnant woman has no right to look this good! NO RIGHT!

Oh, Lisa. Is there any event you won't show up for?

Who's the boss now, betches?

Jaime Pressley attempts to make saggy boobs HAUTE.

Oh, that my shower curtain could look so good.

Grey's Catastrophe.

Skida-Mah-Link

Here's your weekly links list, better late than never.

First off, we have this week's Nashville Scene edition of Suburban Turmoil, with an update on how my older girls are adjusting to their public school's new uniform policy. Basically, our school board said, "Hey! Let's vote to force every public school parent to spend hundreds of dollars in our stores buying all-new wardrobes for their kids!" Bastards.

Next, over at Parents.com I get all serious on you, first with a post on preparing for The Talk: Alcohol and Drugs Edition with my younger stepdaughter, then on how frustrated I am in general with my teenagers' learning experiences at school. Can you tell I haven't been getting much sleep this week? I swear, Bruiser has been waking up THREE TIMES A NIGHT for the past two months and it's kicking my ass!

Anyway, things get funnier over there today (Hubs got up with the baby this morning and I slept in) with a post that will give you medical superiority over your teenagers, provided they don't outwit you as you're trying to explain said superiority to them.

And finally, it's a slow week over at the Suburban Turmoil Review blog (finally!), but I do have a sweet discount on a most excellent online toy store for you and a domestic challenge that's provided this bored housewife with a heap of excitement.

Stay tuned... It's never boring around here, right? So you know there was a Major Incident with an Angry Parent at Saturday's 3-year-old division soccer game. I'll have the story (with pictures! Yes! I took pictures! And let me tell you, that's a great way to get a parent to shut the hell up, when you get in his face and start snapping pictures!) tomorrow.

Fashion Week

It's Fashion Week in New York and once again, top designers are paying tribute to Dear Old Mom. Here are the best looks of the season for the Woman who Has Does It All...

Nothing says "I'm a mommy off my meds" like this Marc Jacobs design...

Special thanks to designer Monique Lhullier for bringing back that hallmark of mommydom: fat arms. Oh wait. That's the model's back, isn't it? Bitch.

Zac Posen's models perfectly conveyed the I've-been-up-all-night-cleaning-up-vomit face. Bravo, Zac. Bravo!

Perhaps Marc Jacobs best captured the spirit of the stay-at-home mom with this look... Note the mail-order mu mu, the clever yellow rubber gloves that scream both "FASHION!" and "NO DISHWATER HANDS!", the signature new-mother hair, that telltale three-pregnancy pooch, and of course the chic dark glasses designed to hide all traces of last night's cooking wine binge... Marc, you have outdone yourself.

With this look, Betsey Johnson says, "This ain't your mama's lingerie!
Or your grandma's... but it might be your great grandma's..."

Here, B. Michael celebrates the essence of that time you picked up the kids and went to the school craft fair straight from work. Ah, motherhood!

In a daring tribute to breastfeeding mothers, Marc Jacobs presents the Baby Bit My Nipple Bra.

Thanks to Custo Barcelona, sleep-deprived mothers need worry no more about remembering to put on their pants before they leave the house.
Even better, thongs= out! Granny panties= in!

Over at Tommy Hilfiger's, shirts went by the wayside in favor of that old mom standby, the Cross Your Heart bra. Put a belt on over your husband's favorite pair of novelty boxers and you're good to go!

Soccer Shocker

We were looking at the video of Punky's first soccer game yesterday, giggling at the moment when she burst into tears and ran off the field and then fast forwarding to the time she kicked the ball in slow motion around all the statue-like members of the other team and proceeded unchallenged right on to the goal (where she kicked the ball out of bounds, consarn it). Ah, the laughs this will provide one day when she's a member of the US Women's Soccer Team's starting line-up...

But watching the video, we began laughing just as hard at something I didn't even notice while I was shooting it- the parents. You can't see them, but you can hear them standing beside me, shouting at their three-year-old daughters who are busy examining large leaves and skipping in circles and running the wrong way on the field.

"Focus on the ball, Jessamyn!" the mom beside me keeps shouting at her daughter. "Focus! On! The ball!"

Now come on. Is that really the kind of thing to yell at a three-year-old? How many three-year-olds even understand what focus means?

After being down by two goals five minutes into the game, a light bulb clicked on in the mind of our oldest player, a five-year-old. Like a miniature robot, she began running to the ball and kicking it until she knocked it into the goal, while the other team watched helplessly or simply practiced forward rolls and cartwheels on the grass. I got video of little Chloe scoring what was perhaps her eighth goal, and you can distinctly hear a dad beside me screaming at the opposing team, "For God's sake! Do something! Try to stop her! Will you just try?!" He was beside himself.

Maybe I should have said something, but I was still reeling from the white-hot rage that had enveloped me after the other team had scored the first goal of the game. As the parents cheered, I'd had a frightening urge to turn and hurl the contents of my Kool-Aid Jammer in their faces. "You and your little brats can stuff it!" I whispered under my breath. Obviously, I'm really not in a position to come down on parents for taking the three-year-old league too seriously.

But as much as I hate to admit it, Punky's too young to be playing soccer. Hubs and I have murmured this sad fact to each other over and over again, from the time I put her jersey over her head and it went to her ankles, to her first practice when she refused to do a "get the ball from the ogre" drill because she said it was scaring her, to her first game, of which she spent a good half in my lap.

I keep her on the team because, well, mainly because it's free, since Hubs is coaching. But also, I tell myself it's a good opportunity for our little computer and book-loving girl to get a bit more physical and enjoy a good two hours a week running around on a field with other kids her age. She may never score a goal, but that shouldn't matter, right?

Tell that to the mom I saw making the rounds after the game, apologizing to the other parents for her own daughter's lack of interest in scoring. "We are going to be working with her next week on this," she kept saying as she made her way from one parent to the next. "She will be here next week ready to score."

Oh my lord.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder, we got a call this morning that another player is joining our team. Her mom is hoping that joining a soccer team will help her daughter who, she says, is not adjusting well to their move here from Florida ten days ago.

Oh, and by the way? She's two.

It's going to be one hell of a season.

A Correspondence

Date: Sun, 9 Sep 2007 12:03:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Roth
Subject: Martina McBride
To: Lindsay Ferrier

Lindsay,

I am a Talent Producer and was the Talent Consultant on the show you were hired on for Martina McBride. I booked Martina to do a video message for our show. Martina was so nice and classy to take her time out when she was booked on another shoot to do this video
message for one of our contestants. We were very appreciative of her time.

It has come to everyone's attention at the network and production company and through Martina herself that you wrote a nasty article in the Nashville Scene about
Martina. We hired you to be a Field Producer and trusted you with representing the show and the network. This behavior is unacceptable, unethical and immature. For you to spy on Martina and make things up about her is unprofessional and mean. You were hired to do an important job and you used that chance in a very inappropriate way. I am the one who booked
Martina so you are also putting my reputation at risk and I don't appreciate it.

I will make sure the word is out in Nashville and Los Angeles that you are not to be trusted. I can see why you don't Field Produce anymore as I am sure you don't have a good reputation and you are probably bitter about that. You bad mouth celebrities and what you did is worse than anything I have seen a celebrity do!

I haven't experienced this type of behavior, even in hollywood!! My experiences with Nashville have been so positive so this is was unexpected but I guess there are bad people in every location. Martina McBride is a class act all the way....you are NOT.

In reading your blog (which is not written well by the way) you think it's all a joke and don't regret doing this to a network that hired you and to Martina who did not deserve it. I hope you don't teach your children your work ethic.

I totally believe in karma so I will not use any more of my time on this I just needed to address it.

Date: Sun, 9 Sep 2007 19:13:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lindsay Ferrier
Subject: Re: Martina McBride
To: Robin Roth

Dear Robin,

Well, crap. I get the impression that somehow I've offended you.

The fact is, Martina was so "nice and classy," as you put it, that the only poop I left the shoot with was the now-infamous bathroom incident. And rather than sit on the news, I decided to clear the air, so to speak, and share it with my readers, who I knew would be happy to hear that their favorite country sweetheart really is as marvelous as she seems.

Living in LA as you do, I'm sure you'll agree that it's refreshing in these troubled times filled with celebrity rehab stints and jail sentences to read about a superstar whose worst trait is neglecting to flush. My writing has merely reinforced Martina's image- that of a girl next door (albeit an expensively dressed, heavily made-up one), whose only crime is one that we're all guilty of sometimes. Let he who's never "let it mellow" cast the first stone, don't you agree? I don't think I'd be out of line to say that our Martina likely will gain even more fans because of my revelation, particularly now that you're raising a stink about it.

Look, I don't want to poo poo the fact that your stomach's still churning about my little column-- At the same time, I do believe you're overreacting just a wee bit. Was my writing really worse than anything you've ever seen a celebrity do, or were you just trying to yank my chain? And if you're going to spread the word in LA and Nashville that I'm not to be trusted, please remember that my name is spelled with an -AY, and not an -EY. That's a common mistake people make when trying to Google me.

Seriously, though, let's let this whirlpool of controversy subside and move on with our lives. You have a hot nurse to corral and I um, have to help put together a Beauty and the Beast puzzle.

Cheers,

Lindsay

Date: Mon, 10 Sep 2007 00:09:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Roth
Subject: Re: Martina McBride
To: Lindsay Ferrier

...Yes I am moving on with finding hot nurses and the many reputable jobs I do for major networks and film companies. I hope your attempt to entertain the other 10 bored housewives on your blog was worth ruining whatever reputation you had which I suspect was not much of one.

Your Weekly Re-Route

It's been a life-altering week around here. Remember Punky, my little baby girl? Well, not only did she start preschool this past week, she also played in her first soccer game. Yes! It seems impossible, but it's true!

I wrote about the whole thing on my Parents.com blog, here and here. It's worth a look for the pictures alone, so check it out. And then take a moment to read about what life is like when your husband is a mere three years away from qualifying for the AARP.

After that, you can check out all the neat things I got in the mail this week. Hmm, let's see... There's:

Three more pairs of my favorite children's shoes in the whole wide world!
A cool cookbook you and your son or daughter will seriously love.
The kids' phone you've been hearing so much about.
Another Disney DVD.
A parenting manual for the armchair psychologist in you.
And a wireless keyboard that does cool things entirely beyond my technological security clearance.

And guess what? One of these items will be given away to a lucky reader! Go find out now how to win!

Punky's First Day of School

Wednesday was Punky's first day of preschool.

"You're starting school today!" I said when she woke up. "How do you feel?"

"Good," she said. I looked at her wistfully, unable to believe my baby was now officially a preschooler. Impulsively, I gave her a hug. She smiled. "Snuggle," she murmured, nestling in my arms. We sat that way for a moment until finally, I released my grip.

"We've got to get ready for preschool now," I said. "We don't have much time. It starts in one hour."

I made Punky breakfast, brushed her teeth, helped her get dressed, and fixed her hair, my stomach churning all the while. Finally, I couldn't put it off any longer. It was time for my little girl to go to school. I heard the doorbell ring and took a deep breath.

"Punky, it's time," I said nervously. "Come on." I held out my hand and she took it. Together, we walked to the front door and I opened it.

"Hey guys," I said. Two of my friends and their three children were standing there. "Come on in." Together, we all went up to our playroom, which had been miraculously transformed into a preschool classroom. "Okay, kids," I said. " Let's all sit in a circle together. Today, we're going to talk about opposites!"

I know, I know. It sounds crazy, but it's true. Two of my playgroup friends and I are running our own preschool. I think all of us were nervous that first day; we had divided up activities like Art and Science and Music among ourselves and none of us knew how the whole thing would pan out. But in the end, it was a success. Our four students did all of the activities with enthusiasm and even Bruiser sat happily in his bouncer throughout the morning, learning by osmosis, we decided.

Storytime

Of course, most of Punky's friends started "real" preschools this week, heading off to brightly lit buildings with cubbies and pocket charts and sleep mats and state regulations. Anticipating this, I have to admit I spent more than a few sleepless nights worrying that I was depriving Punky of what surely would have been a wonderful experience, if only I'd had the funds.

But then on Tuesday, I realized something important. Yes, I had lots of fond preschool memories from my own childhood. But Punky will have memories like that, too, and the cool thing is that instead of random teachers she'll never see again, I will be in them. She'll grow up knowing that I was her first teacher and maybe one day, she'll really appreciate the effort I'm making now.

So I think I've made the right decision for us, especially after the conversation we had Wednesday afternoon, a few hours after preschool had ended.

"Remember all the opposites we learned today, Punky?" I asked. "In, out. Front, back. Hot, cold." She nodded, then put one finger to her cheek.

"Upstairs," she said thoughtfully, before looking at me with a gleam in her eye. "Downstairs!!"

"That's right!" I said excitedly. "Wow, you came up with that on your own! Good job!"

"Boy..... Girl!" she shouted.

"Yes! That's wonderful, Punky!"

For the rest of the week, she's pointed out opposites everywhere. I'm so proud of my little Punky.

And I'm pretty sure that next week, she'll finally be ready to tackle Quantum Physics. And Japanese. And maybe Algebra, if we have time.

Toiletgate

I guess you could say I've really stepped in it this time.

I've gotten word that certain producers at a certain television network are upset about a certain column I wrote in last week's Nashville Scene. While I didn't mention that network or the television show I field-produced in the column, it was enough that I did mention the erm, bathroom habits of a certain country music superstar.

And that's when the shit hit the fan.

Because apparently, if I dare to write that Martina McBride was so marvelous that the only dirt I could find on her was that she didn't flush the toilet, then it's entirely appropriate for a bunch of television producers to have a collective shit fit about it. The only explanation I can come up with for their consternation is that I'm the first person ever to to insinuate, on the record, that celebrities use the toilet for, you know, toiletty things. Shocking, I know.

Network dudes? You must chill. And also? You're lucky that I'm a toilet half-full kind of girl.

Because I choose to believe that maybe some good will come out of all this. Maybe Martina will treat the next bathroom she visits with a little more consideration, so that the person who happens upon it afterward won't be left to pick up the pieces. Wait. That didn't sound right. Well, you know what I mean.

And as for Martina, if you're out there reading this, know that no matter how this flushes out, your fans will still be legion. For heaven's sake, one of them is asserting in my comments that if you do in fact poop, you only poop pink bows. Now that's devotion.

Anyway, if you'd like to do a sit-down interview with me about the whole thing, I'd be willing to devote an entire column to it. We can meet face-to-face and shake hands over this whole thing.

But only if you promise me you've washed them first.

Perfect Post Awards

Hey. You know what time it is. It's time for the Perfect Post Awards, a chance for bloggers to give a little extra recognition to their favorite post from the preceding month, whether it made them laugh, cry, or see things a little differently.

This month, my award goes out to an amazing woman that I had the good fortune to party with at BlogHer. I wish Lena was my next door neighbor, and yet I'm pretty certain that if she were, we would somehow manage to cause a whole heap of trouble. But all this has nothing to do with why I'm awarding the amazing post she wrote in August, about turning 30.

Damn, I thought when I read it. I wish I had written that. Go check it out and you'll see why.

And once you're done, be sure and read some of the other Perfect Post Award winners. You're sure to find some amazing writing. If you'd like to participate in next month's awards, send Kimberly or me an e-mail and I'll add you to the mailing list.

Petroville awarded Joy Unexpected
Chicken And Cheese awarded Tumble Dry
Slouching Mom awarded World of One Thousand Different Things
Coming to a Nursery Near You awarded Toddler Planet
Foggy City Mommy awarded Third Times a Charm
One Plus Two and Lawyer Mama awarded Serving the Queens

The Fat Lady Sings awarded Soul Gardening
In the Trenches of Mommyhood awarded Joy and Chaos
Poot and Cubby awarded Chicken and Cheese
In Full Bloom awarded Using My Words
A Child is Born awarded Sober Briquette
Rock the Cradle awarded I Obsess
Lady M awarded Notes from the Trenches

Believer in Balance awarded Izzy Mom
Momish awarded Boobs, Injuries and Dr. Pepper
Masked Mom awarded Looky Daddy
Journey Mama awarded Kiwords
Twas Brillig awarded Absolutely Bananas
Rura and Miss awarded Joy Unexpected
My Life as a Hotfessional awarded I Forgot Where I was Going With This
The Silent I awarded Kimchi Mamas

She Laughs at the Days awarded Owlhaven
Tiggerprr awarded Cat and Muse
Toddled Dredge awarded Lifenut
And the Pursuit of Happiness awarded Dorky Dad
Sense & Sensibilities awarded Cheeky Lotus
Never That Easy awarded Dairy of a Goldfish
Arkie Mama awarded Chicken and Cheese

Something to Say awarded Never What You Think It Should Be
Ladybug Crossing awarded Boobs, Injuries & Dr. Pepper
Oh, The Joys awarded Sweet Salty
RiversGrace awarded Jumping In
Crib Chronicles awarded Alpha DogMa
ValueWit awarded Stepmother's Milk


Mommy Off The Record awarded Life, the Universe & Everything
Temporarily Me awarded Velveteen Mind
So Anyway awarded I Wish I Was Canadian
Midwestern Mommy awarded The State of Discontent
Blog, Blah, Blah awarded Just Eat Your Cupcake
Miscellanous Adventures of an Aussie Mom awarded Using My Own Words

Linky Dink

Yep, it's Parents.com time, and this week, I have a special surprise for you.... A HEADER on my Parents.com blog! Yes, A HEADER! It now has the appearance of a real blog! Go see this work of art!

If the header alone isn't enough to draw you in, maybe you'll want to know why I burst into tears yesterday while waiting for my bologna to be sliced at the supermarket. Or why my stepdaughters have decided not to have children. Or maybe you'll check out the sweetest thing I've written in quite a while, if I do say so myself. I mean, it's not that often that I get mushy online because, you know. Ew.

And as if that's not enough, I've spent the morning reviewing all the stuff I got this week. And yes, Gertie, there's nastiness in here somewhere! You'll just have to find it! Better yet, there's a giveaway you won't want to miss. So check it:

How to keep your kids away from those pesky drugs.
One amazing book, one useful book, and one book straight from hell.
A kid's book that could help you explain, for example, why it's okay that Uncle Fred has a lazy eye.
An unexpected cause for merriment.
And a cool new Disney DVD (hint: THIS IS THE GIVEAWAY!).