Archive for September, 2008
I Love 1971
So I guess I didn't scare you off, huh? Good! Welcome back!
That’s what I’m watching on TV right now. I think I may have lost a few brain cells in my sleep or something because I’m actually entertained by this.
WHOA. Have you seen the Rolling Stones’ “Sticky Fingers” album cover?
There’s no way they’d get away with that now. Tipper Gore would’ve fallen right out of her mid-heel pumps running to put a stop to that. I know this because I did a speech on the PMRC in the 10th grade. I don’t remember what the point of my speech was but I do remember that I had two goals: 1) find a way to talk about Bon Jovi and 2) shock value.
And while we’re on the subject of Sh!t That Wouldn’t Fly Today, let’s talk about ‘Shaft‘.
(Insert moment of silence for Isaac Hayes here.)
Do I really need to explain why ? Renting a movie named ‘Shaft’ nowadays would involve two forms of ID, a major credit card and a special key to the *wink, wink* back room.
I was born in 1971 1974 1972 Ok, fine! Do over…
I was born in 1971, so I obviously don’t remember a lot of this stuff which really sucks sometimes because I would’ve loved to have been born in the 60’s, spending my tween years listening to Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and Janis Joplin before they, like, died from drug overdoses.
From what I remember, the 70s were pretty cool. But there’s some stuff that just doesn’t make sense, man. Like Charo. Ya know, the “cuchi cuchi” lady. Any of you baby boomers remember why in the hell she’s famous?
And the Grateful Dead. Why would dead people be grateful? And why would a bunch of people hitch-hike all over the country to follow these guys who are inexplicably grateful yet not at all dead? I’ve never been a fan of the Grateful Dead and I never quite understood Deadheads although, from what I understand, some of them became Phisheads except for the older ones who couldn’t handle the walking anymore after their hip replacement surgery. No, I’m serious. My dad just had his hip replaced and he’s got a tattoo of Jerry Garcia but he’s a Parrothead now. (Parrotheads worship Jimmy Buffett, not to be confused with Omahans who worship Warren Buffett.)
I totally missed out on being a hippy. I would’ve made a good hippy. The closest I ever came was about 10 years ago when I went to an outdoor Ziggy Marley concert and ended up dancing barefoot in the rain all by myself. (That really happened.)
I miss the 70s. Or maybe I just miss being a kid.
Share and share alike
I was reading this post at Simple Mom today about brothers and sisters sharing a room. I left this comment:
My two oldest kids are about 2.5 years apart, my daughter being older than my son. They originally shared a room because of space but as they got older and we moved into a bigger house, they could’ve had their own rooms but they didn’t want to. In fact, they did have their own rooms and yet they would still end up sleeping in the same room, one of them sneaking into the other’s after I’d put them to bed.
So for years they had a bedroom and a playroom, probably up until they were ages 9 and 7. They are now 18 and almost 16 and they’re still extremely close.
I had forgotten all about that until I was writing that comment. Sissy and Bubba grew up sharing just about everything – a bedroom, a playroom, toys.
And then I realized that Princess won’t have that same experience. Since her siblings are so much older than she is, she doesn’t have to share much with them other than the TV, the Play Station or the computer.
Now I don’t want her growing up to be spoiled, selfish or stingy. (Ok, it might be a little too late on the spoiled thing.) I want her to be compassionate, giving, and willing to share with others.
Luckily, I’ve discovered a fun way to do this. Hasbro has this new series of games out called Noodleboro, one of which is the ‘Learning to Share’ Fun Park. She has a blast playing this. Its not just a regular ol’ board game. The layout of the game includes a carnival style layout with 4 different stations. The goal is to win prizes from each game and if you win more than one of a certain kind of prize, you earn a star by sharing your extra prize with another player who doesn’t have one.
The best thing about it is that there is no “winner.” The point of the game is for the entire group to collect enough stars before the sun goes down and the park closes. So rather than putting player against player, the players are working as a team.
We’ve had a lot of fun with this game. Of course, there have been times where we don’t worry about collecting the prizes and the stars; we just play with the little carnival games.
Oh, and if your child doesn’t have any problems sharing – meaning they’ve outgrown the “Mine!” stage – then you might want to try the other Noodleboro games. There’s the “Learning About Manners” Picnic Basket game and the “Learning to Listen” Pizza Palace game.
A case of the ickies
Yes, I’m still here. No, I have not dropped off the face of the earth. I have been sick all.week.long.
I have this horrible chest cold which really feels like bronchitis but it could just be the combination of a cold and my asthma. Whatever it is….oh em gee its kicking my butt. My whole body aches, my head and sides hurt from the coughing and I get all jittery from my asthma meds.
This is one of the few times I’m glad my kids aren’t around. I hope Princess didn’t catch it before she left for her dad’s, and with Sissy being pregnant I’d hate for her to feel like this.
But looking on the bright side, my cough seems to be getting better and I’m not as achy as I was, so hopefully it’s going away. Then I can get back on track with my projects, reviews, etc. Hey, I might even manage to take a shower and do some dishes!
A Night With Poverty
Hello, ladies and gentleman and thank you for joining our little show. Mr. Obama, Mr. McCain, we’ve saved you both a seat in the front row so you don’t miss a minute of it! I apologize for the lack of refreshments. I think we might have some leftover packets of Kool-Aid from making popsicles last summer and there’s always water from the kitchen sink. Just make yourselves at home.
We’d like to welcome you to our presentation of ‘A Night With Poverty’. Its not so much a show as it is a storytelling, if you will. We’re going to take you on a quick journey this evening. We’re going to show you a peek into a world that everyone knows exists but hopes they’ll never have to visit. Now don’t be fooled by the curtain with the smiles and sunshine painted on them. Those will disappear as soon as the show begins and you’re welcomed, reluctantly, into Poverty’s world.
So settle into your seat and let’s begin.
Our story starts with Poverty as she prepares to leave for the afternoon to pick up her youngest child from school, praying there’s enough gas to get there but not really certain since the gas gauge is broken. Poverty taps her pant pockets to make sure the change she found on the desk earlier is in there…just in case.
Poverty takes a quick peek out the window to make sure that’s not the landlord’s lawn mower she hears. He’s the last person she wants to see right now. Fortunately, its a lawn service mowing the churchyard next door.
She heads out the door and into the car, and begins her half hour drive towards the school. Yes, the school is a half hour away. No, this was not Poverty’s choice. Poverty begged the Court to let her take the child to the local school in the town where the child lives but apparently this particular Court is not bound by the US Constitution and has forced Poverty to drive the child to this school until the Court gets around to ruling on a two year custody battle. Poverty has tried to get help from the little one’s dad who, through some jurisdictional loophole, hasn’t had to pay child support since January, but his only response is that he can’t because his budget is tight.
In the meantime, Poverty struggles to pay for gas. She drives along the highway, coasting as much as possible and praying the whole time even though she’s not so sure anyone is listening. Then her phone goes off, letting her know she has email. A quick check at a red light lets her know that someone sent her $4 via PayPal, a refund for an overpayment. Sweet! That’s a gallon of gas! Enough to get Poverty and her child back home.
Then a text message. Its Poverty’s mother letting her know that she gets paid tomorrow so she’ll send some money to get Princess – that’s Poverty’s little girl – a birthday present. Princess turns 6 on Thursday. Poverty texts back: “Can you afford an extra $20 for gas and a book from her school book order?” Mom can but it won’t be until tomorrow. Poverty hears that Winnie the Pooh voice in her head saying “think, think, think” trying to figure out another way to get Princess that book she wants since the form is due tomorrow.
Mom sends what she can – $10 – and for a moment, Poverty has hope with a little glimpse of faith mixed in. It had been less than 30 minutes since she gave the whole prayer thing a shot and she had $14. Not bad!
She makes it to the school and shortly after the bell sounds, Princess comes running towards her yelling “Mommy!!!” which makes her teacher smile and brings some sunlight back into Poverty’s world.
Poverty and her Princess make it home safely. Poverty prays again as she checks her email for any responses to her efforts to find work – any work – only to come up empty. Then another lead. “Please, please, please” she thinks to herself as she fires off another email. Meanwhile, Princess is on the other computer, “I’m working” she says to Poverty, “to help you buy stuff.” The comment is both sweet and sour. Its sweet that Princess wants to help and its sweet that she wants to work on the computer like her mommy, but the fact that she knows Poverty needs help is so sour she can’t even stand it.
A quick thank you to a friend for the lead results in a chain of desperate pleas from kind strangers for help. Poverty finds herself both touched and ashamed, wishing it was her reputation that earned the referrals rather than pity. Then a response from the lead comes. The wage is much lower than Poverty had hoped for and she’s torn between the voice that says “Charge what you deserve!” and the one that says “Take what you can get!” Its not much different than the other voices, the one that says “Go get a real job!” and the one that says “Why would you want to do that? You’d spend half your paycheck on gas money, you’d only get two hours a night with the Princess….besides, do you really want to give up on one of the few dreams you’ve had??”
With a heavy sigh, Poverty gets up from the computer and heads to the kitchen to figure out something for dinner. She silently thanks her mom, who grew up poor in rural Georgia, for the advice about keeping stuff that doesn’t spoil on hand. The powdered milk was a good idea. So were the instant mashed potatoes. Of course, this stuff was supposed to be used for emergencies….acts of God, not acts of Government.
Making do with what she can find and being careful not to use too much since she doesn’t know how far it will have to stretch, she whips up something resembling a meal.
She ends up with this. A hamburger patty on white bread – its the cheapest – and bland, instant mashed potatoes. Yum.
Poverty hears Princess wandering into the kitchen, so she ducks down and sits on the floor, pretending to be rearranging whatever is in the cabinet in front of her so Princess doesn’t see her crying.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
Damn.
“Nothing, baby. Whatchya need?”
“I’m hungry,” she says.
I know, sweetie. I know. Sorry, this was the best I could do. As expected, Princess takes a few bites before she decides she’s done. Compared to the healthy meals Poverty usually fixes, this is like eating paper.
She clears the table and settles in on the couch to read with Princess, forcing a smile. She promised herself no more tears after hearing Princess say, at the dinner table, “Mommy, I don’t want to hear you cry anymore.”
Ok, baby…I’ll try. For you, I’ll keep trying.
We’re having a baby shower
If you follow my blog, you know two things about me: 1) I’m a struggling single mom and 2) I am about to become a grandmother for the first time.
I took her out on Saturday to register for baby gifts, to get some maternity clothes (from Goodwill…why pay full price for clothes you’re only going to wear for a few months?), and to see a movie.
The registry thing started out a mess. I drove all the way out to pick her up from work and take her to Target, got all the way through the process only to get to the end, clicked “submit” and the thing didn’t go through. I asked one of the clerks about, she had someone come over and that person told us “Yeah, our system is down. Someone else had the same problem earlier and we couldn’t get it to work. Sorry”.
So we left and headed to Babies R Us who treated us a lot better than Target did. But after reading about Toys R Us and their definition of a grandparent, which apparently only includes people over 50, I’m debating if I want to give Babies R Us our business too.
Anyway, I decided that since I’m the only family she has around here – the rest of our family is in the South – its up to me to support her through this and make sure she and the baby have everything they need. That’s why I’m throwing her this virtual shower.
I’m hoping that all of the generous companies, crafters, and business owners who have provided their products to be reviewed by bloggers will do the same for us. I love doing reviews, I appreciate those opportunities, and I’d like to have a few more opportunities to do some more.
By donating or sponsoring the baby shower, we’ll post your product, a link to your website, and a review (if applicable), on a page dedicated completely to this event.
If you’re interested, please email me at ThatCrazyMom@gmail.com and let me know what you would be able to contribute. And I can tell you now, every little bit will be appreciated from the bottom of our hearts.
If you’d like to promote Sissy’s Virtual Baby Shower, please feel free to grab this button by just copying the code in the box and placing it on your blog:
