NO PRINCESSES FOR GIRLS!!!

I am so sick of this debate, but this controversy over the new Lego line has me fuming.  You can read about it here, because I just can’t take it, anymore:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/01/15/lego-friends-girls-gender-toy-marketing_n_1206293.html

Let’s tackle the ad from the 1980′s.  Does anyone remember Legos from back in the day?  They were primary blocks that fit together to make whatever the child wanted.  It was a truly neutral toy that helped child with a multiple of developments.  Then something happened.  I am not sure, but I know I was perplexed when I first started seeing the specific sets where it seemed you could only build one thing.  I remember thinking where is the fun in that?  I didn’t make a huge fuss. I didn’t stand on the nearest train table in Toys R Us and scream, “Why are you denying girls the joy of Legos?!”  You know why? Because I had sense to know that not every child is the same and not every girl played with princesses or, hold onto your hats for this one, some girls liked playing with both princesses and cars.  Oh the horror, letting the kids choose which toys they could choose.

Somewhere along the way, Princesses became the enemy.  How dare girls pretend to be princesses, play tea party, nurture dolls or the other evil things that have been sent by the all mighty toy companies to get our girls subservient to The Man.  Then it went further. It has now become a social status for parents, mostly Moms, to shout from the rooftops that their sons play with dolls and paint their nails and their daughters are playing in dirt with cars and trucks.  All over the Internet you can find mommy blogs proclaiming how great they are, because their children have no gender.  There are parents going so far as not letting others know the exact gender of their child. What I want to know is why?  Are we so ashamed of boys that we need to turn them more feminine?  Do we hate all things girly that we just have to breed a generation of girls that are more masculine than the boys in their class?  What is the point?

The problem with this is that these parents are forgetting that kids have choices, too.  What prevents a little girl choosing an alien to build from the many that Lego offers?  I don’t remember any toy police in the Target toy section telling me my girls weren’t allowed to look at these toys, much less buy them.  I don’t remember Amber getting tackled and having the Harry Potter Lego ripped from her hands when she made the purchase a year ago.  So why the big fuss?  As far as I can tell Lego has, finally, opened it’s eyes and given girls more choices.  I will admit I was drawn to the new Lego Friends toys, myself.  I liked the colors and the cute little kitchen and spa.  Amber not so much.  She is more interested in her Liv dolls with the spa, she recently purchased on Black Friday at Target last year.

I have the perfect little Science experiment going on in my home.  I have an older daughter, who went through the princess phase, but was given the choice of what she wanted to play with.  Sure her toys were mostly pink and girly, but there were a few cars thrown in there which she chose.  Now as a 9 yr old, she is the only girl playing the trumpet in her music class in the sea of boys playing the same instrument.  She is in cheerleading.  Loves Harry Potter more than any boy I have met.  She still loves to do her hair, her dolls’ hair and have her nails done.  I don’t see her love of Princesses hurting her in the least.  As a matter of fact, a recent event showed that she has no problem speaking her mind when she told some boys from the neighborhood that she was done playing with them, because they kept cursing.  If anything the choices that were afforded her gave her the strength to continue to make her own choices whether they went with the grain or not.

Then I have Sam.  A boy coming 4 years after his older sister.  He came into a world of pink and Princesses.  My feeling is that most babies start out gender neutral, because they don’t really  have a voice for their opinion.  Besides, their main focus is keeping their butts clean and eating.  So most baby to toddler toys are pretty much played by both sexes.  However, once those babies hit toddlerhood they start to gravitate toward their interests.  Sam started refastening many of Amber’s toys into guns, cars and flying objects.  Sure he would pick up a baby doll and give it a hug, then a few seconds later it would be discarded for something he found more interesting.  The one thing I found fascinating about Sam was that he would sit and actually have imaginative play.  Amber wasn’t much for imaginative play.  She used the toy how it was intended and when she was bored she moved to the next toy.  Sam would involve dinosaurs and pirates into his Batman cave.  There would be elaborate stories involving the Batman Cave and the Dragon Castle.  And somehow he incorporated Amber’s Barbie dogs into all this play.  He had a slight obsession with them.   We never made a conscience effort not to buy Sam guns, but he,  eventually, gravitated toward weaponry.  Whether it was his finger or a Barbie doll he would point it at someone and say, “Bang! Bang!”  It would be much later that he would get his first space gun and drive us all crazy.  But don’t think the gender neutral debate has won just yet.  Since Sam was with me most of the time, he would often grab the shopping cart and purple purse and go shopping.  Amber and him would play shopping and he would use his debit card that was pulled from his purse.  Why?  Because it was what he saw.  Sure SoHubby was a little perturbed by this, but I let it go.  I  knew that he was fine and just playing what he saw.  No biggie.  And once Evie came along and Amber decided to dress her up as a fairy, Sam joined in the fun.  It lasted a few minutes and then he went back to what interested him.  Once again, choices.  Now, I have a little boy that wants to be a cheerleader like his big sister, loves to hug the girls and loves to play tag with the boys and all things superheroes.

Lastly, we have Evie.  At only 2.5 years old, she has gone between cars, dinosaurs, superheros to baby dolls, and her recent discovery of the Princesses.  There is a whole playroom for her to choose from.  Never once has there been a line drawn saying these are the BOY toys and these are the GIRL toys.  There has been choices.  Why can’t kids have choices?  Sure there are some people who are adamant about their boy not having anything to do with “girly” stuff, but is it really that rampant?  Then there comes a time when children naturally start pairing off with the same sex parent.  Sam has started doing this and loves to go off with his Daddy.  And why not?  That doesn’t mean the girls are left in the dust.  There are times when Amber goes off with Daddy, too.  I can’t say that I would be comfortable bringing Sam to the nail salon, only because he doesn’t like his nails cut or people putting anything on them.  I can’t say that I would be all that gung ho to have his nails painted pink,anyway, but I am not going to deny him the pleasure of a foot massage or soaking in a hot foot bath.  Why can’t he enjoy those things?  The last time I checked the nail salons weren’t turning away anyone who was willing to pay for their services.

The point is there are 2 sexes (and I know even me admitting this is controversial) in this world and they both have their purpose.  It doesn’t mean that we don’t have choices.  We are bombarded with choices everyday that are made due to our upbringing, social status, financial ability, gender, and a myriad of other reasons.  To say that Lego Friends is teaching girls that they are only pretty and only good for baking, primping and drinking coffee (which I didn’t know was a female sport) is insulting to me as a parent.  It means that I have no influence.  That I am not talking to my kids.  That I am not supervising their growth into this world.  It is saying that I am letting a lump of plastic determine the future of my children.  I hate to break it to you, but I have more influence over my kids then a $20 toy that I happen to pick up on a whim.

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NOLA Culture: High School

Here in New Orleans when someone asks you where did you go to school, you better reply with what high school you attended.  If you reply with a college, we will know you are an outsider.  I went to public school and that is something that I keep to myself.  This is a city of Catholic and private schools.  If you want to be included in certain circles you keep your public school education to yourself.

Being from New Orleans and going to public school, my dream was that my kids would go to private school.  And if the people I have been talking to are any indication, my kids’ dream will be that their kids go to the high school they went to.  Cycle continues.

Amber moved to a Catholic school at third grade. Before that she went to a private school without a religious affiliation.  It was an adjustment for both of us.  She was entering a school where most of the students had been together since they were 3 yrs old.  Now on our 2nd year and Sam joining the school we are in the groove.  Our  newness still comes through on occasion, but that should wear off in a year or 2.  As one mom reminded me, I have 7 years at this school.  I can’t be new forever, right?

What I didn’t expect was the high school talk to start so soon.  You see around 5th grade the kids start looking at high schools.  And from what I am hearing it sounds like the experience that most kids looking at colleges go through.  Amber started her talk of which high school she picked last year in third grade.  As far as I can tell, she had some catching up to do with the other girls.  It scares me.  All the what ifs come flooding in and I am left in a corner sweating clutching brochures to high schools.

Amber has expressed her preference and it seems to be the preference of the majority of girls and moms at the school. It is the “IT” school.  So the talk begins, “Hey Amber, if you want to go to that high school, you better make sure you study.”  ”AMBER!  They don’t accept girls who act like that to that high school.”  I have found the new version of the Santa threat.  Of course, all this perks Amber’s ears for a nanosecond and then she goes back to avoiding that 800 page Harry Potter book she just had to read for her AR test that is coming up in 3 days.

I don’t need this stress.  Public school was simple.  Oh you live there?  You go here.  Sure there were knife fights in the playground and you learned to hold your bladder all day for fear of what might befall you in the bathroom, but, at least, you didn’t have to worry about getting into the perfect high school.  You went to the school you were told and you fell into line like everyone else. There was no worrying about the perfect high school leading you to the perfect Louisiana University (subtle, eh) and all of that leading you to the perfect job where you will lead the perfect life and live happily every after.  One false move and the delicate house of cards based on the right school since birth will come tumbling down and their lives will be doomed forever.  See the pressure I am under.  I just started to relax after my world wind tour of every Catholic elementary school on both sides of the river and now I am back to panic mode.  The happiness of my kids’ lies in my hands.  One false move and they will be living in my house forever and I will never have my dream of a kid home where I get to do what I want and the house stays clean.  Parenting in NOLA is hard, y’all.

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C-Section: This Generation’s Dirty Medical Word

*sigh* C-sections.  It is the new barometer to gauge how good of a mother you are, before you actually starting, you know, parenting.  Oh, it isn’t that straight forward.  People, mainly on the Internet, tell you they understand, but secretly behind their computer screens they are shaking their heads in judgement.  Meh, who cares?  Well, I do and I don’t.  I care when misinformation is thrown about and used to pigeon hole everyone who has met their OB’s scalpel (yes, I know they use lasers. Work with me.) up close and personal.  Well, life and judgements are never that cut and dry.

I have had 3 c-sections.  Yes, you read that right, I had 3.  Many factors went into me going under the knife.  However, convenience and fear of pain was not on the list.  Matter of fact, I clearly remember sitting at the side of my first OB’s ( I would go on to have 3 more doctors for my births)desk wringing my hands asking him if he knew for sure if I would AVOID a c-section.  Damn doctors.  Sadly they aren’t God and he couldn’t tell me. Bastard!  You see, I had never been in a hospital, before giving birth, and I was deathly afraid….let me say it, again….DEATHLY AFRAID of having surgery.  I didn’t want it.  I took all the classes and I was prepared for a vaginal birth.  I knew I could push.  I knew I could breathe.  I knew I could do that.  What I didn’t know was what a c-section entailed.  All I knew was that they wanted to cut me open and move my insides around.  Last I checked my insides were fine where they were and there was no need to going poking around.

I researched.  I am here to tell you that there is such a thing as too much research. Another thing to pop up that would put the fear of modern medicine into me, pitocin.   From my research I learned that pitocin caused Autism.  WHA?!  Pitocin meant you were definitely, for sure going to  have a c-section. NO!  Pitocin hurt like a semi truck driving through your pelvic area.  *falls to the floor*  I prayed.  I begged. I bargained.  Please, oh please, don’t let me have pitocin or a c-section.  I guess I my message to God went to the wrong in box, because at 5 days pass my due date (which I never believe, because I never knew the last day of my period.  Who the hell keeps track of that crap?  It is here. I curse. It is gone.  The husband comes out of hiding.)  I was contracting and then I wasn’t.  Huh?  What is that you say?  That is not possible.  Oh really.  You want to have a conversation with my lazy uterus.  Go ahead, but I am hear to tell you she ain’t listening to no body.  So the pitocin drip starts, the contractions start to feel like an angry ape throwing luggage around in my uterus, but they don’t start getting any closer together.  The story of my life, I do well with one thing, but can’t pull it through to complete the transaction.  Here is where I tell you I take a nap and you go, “HUH, WHA?!”  Oh yeah, that contraction was a bitch, but once it passed I was all clear for my journey to sleepy town.  I would wake in another room with a doctor peering into my nether regions and liquid spilling all over the bed.  That is when the action started.  No, not contractions, medical staff bustling around like someone just set their collective pants on fire.  It was time for the baby to come out.  Whether she wanted to or not.  I have stubborn kids, especially when you are expecting them to do certain things, like, I don’t know, be born into the world.

I have gone over a million times what I should have done during Amber’s birth.  I have read on the Internet as people, some who have never given birth, say I had choices.  Oh really?  Let’s look at the choices I could have demand in all my non-medical knowledge glory:  I could have demanded to push.  That might be a little hard without contractions.  I mean I know we are women, hear us roar, but we do need all parts doing their, well, part.  I could have demanded to wait and see what might happen.  I mean my body, as a female, is made to give birth, right?  So it would have happened eventually, right?  Who the hell knows.  In the mean time Amber could have choked on her first bowel movement.  (Yeah, I can never spell that word right, so you get my 2nd grade description of it.)  So in the end I did have choices, but no one talks about the consequences of those choices or being in a situation where it might be a tad hard to make a completely rational decision.  You can try.  Here is what you do.  Invite about 10/15 total strangers into a cold, very bright room, while you lay buck naked on a hard surface.  Have about a million beeps going on, some of the people will be having a conversation with words you have no clue what they mean while someone tries to explain the situation to you quickly and then ask you for a decision.  Let me know how you fair.  I am not denying that I could have made the no c-section decision and come out completely fine.  I can’t tell you how Amber would have come out in that scenario.

I don’t know who is spreading the word that c-sections are fun.  I am here to tell you they ain’t no walk in the park on sunny day.  You are literally cut in half while you are AWAKE!  Yeah, that last part freaked me out, too.  And I don’t care what anyone says, they don’t get easier the more you have.  Each one carries it’s own risks.  What I am here to tell you is that until you are in that situation you can’t completely say with all certainty what you would do or not do.  Not to mention you suddenly have another human being who is completely dependent on you to make the right decision.  Remember the goal is healthy, happy babies.  So if I am out of the running for mother of the year because I had 3 c-sections then so be it.  I am sure there are many other things you could have used to take me out of the running.

I don’t really need to justify my other 2 c-sections.  I could tell you about the natural disaster I found myself in while 4 months pregnant with Sam.  I could go on and on about how I didn’t like nor trusted my OB, but what choice did I have in a city that barely had hospitals up and running?  My main goal with her was for her NOT to tie my tubes no matter how much she insisted.  Without medical records and hospital staffs at an all time low there was no chance in hell I was going to get a VBAC.  I would guess New Orleans after Katrina, even 6 mos after, was as close to a 3rd world country as I ever want to get.  Do you give me points for even asking at the beginning of my pregnancy and when I finally secured a doctor after my original one had fled?  By the time I got pregnant with Evie, I was done.  I would have let them extract her through my nose if that is what they said was the best way.  I was in the hands of my fully capable OB (a new one from the one that I had with Sam)and the Perinatologist who I saw every damn month.   That was a bit much, I thought, but hey, again, if it gets me a healthy baby so be it.

Who do we blame for this?  Do we blame those nasty money hungry medical doctors?  I really don’t think ALL doctors are assholes.  And if you find yourself faced with an asshole, then, um, here is your choice: Find a new one.  I have many times and didn’t feel bad at all.  However, when I do find a new doctor I discuss my medical care and ask questions.  My first clue that you are an asshole doctor is if you get annoyed at all my questions.  I am here to tell you in any profession there will be good ones and there will be bad ones.  Your job is to find a good one and then trust them.  Do we blame health insurance?  That one I am not touching.  If you think insurance companies don’t want to pay for your regular visit to the doctor, what makes you think they are all gung ho to pay for your c-section.  My belief is that insurance companies are going to fight and go over with a fine tooth comb just about every claim put before them, because they are trying to make money.  It is a pain for us, but we have a choice, we can pay out of pocket for our medical care.  Go ahead and ask, I am sure your doctor or hospital will take cash.  I know they took mine.  We can blame lawyers, but what can’t you blame lawyers for?  Hmmm, I am not sure how to defend lawyers on this one, but I will say that I would venture a guess that someone came to them with a grievance regarding their birth and the lawyer did his job.  Maybe a little too well, but he did his job.  You can blame malpractice insurance that all doctors and hospitals must have to cover their asses.  Having a mother, who is a nurse, who got dragged into a lawsuit, because a family didn’t want to accept that their elderly mother died of natural causes, it is frightening to be on the shit end of a lawsuit, especially if you have never been involved in one before .  And I am sure doctors and hospitals would much rather put the money they spend on malpractice insurance to better use, but alas it is a necessary evil much like car insurance. There are many places to put the blame for the c-section rates.  Dare I say, yes even those mothers, who I believe are very rare, that pressure their doctors for a c-section out of convenience.  I have heard of them, but have never met one.  Does it do anyone any good?  Not really.

We live in a society where many things are available to us, medicine, medical advancement out the ying yang and the Internet that can scare you with one small Google search.  I don’t think the answer is beating mothers, who have already had their babies, over the head with the fact that YOU think they didn’t birth right.  I think the real solution is an open dialogue that dispenses with the scare tactics (I am looking at all you old school moms who just love your war stories) and share an experience that can be learned from.  I think there needs to be included in those birth classes (keep in mind my last one was 10 yrs ago. ) a real discussion about c-section, stalled labor and pitocin.  I might have heard a blip about these things in the birth class I took, but nothing substantial. What I really think is that the medical community doesn’t know everything about pregnancy and birth.  Yeah, I said it.  And they are still learning.  When my daughters are ready to give birth I am sure I will be sitting at the kitchen table with my mouth gaped open amazed at what they are telling me is going to happen.  That is what we do people, we live, learn and move on.  Each generation will learn something new about the process of being born  and will be a little better off.  And the generation behind them will sit there and wish they had that when they were about to give birth.  It is the circle of knowledge.

 

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Netflix vs the Movie Rental Store

Netflix has pissed me off for the last time.  My only regret is that I didn’t cancel them completely at the end of August.  Netflix was a great concept, then they got cocky.  Yeah, yeah, you are going to tell me that movie producers and God forced their hand to jack up prices.  Or that they are having contract troubles and that is why their streaming sucks so hard.  I call bullshit.  I think Netflix is big enough that they have some power.  However, I really don’t care.  I maybe the lowly consumer, but I have some power, too.  And that power is to cancel Netflix and go old school.

I am old enough to remember going to the movie rental store.  It was so exciting.  We got to walk up and down the aisles choosing which movie we wanted to see.  Then we would race right home and watch it.  Times were good and I was young without the responsibility of getting the movie back in time to avoid a late fee.  As I got older, life’s checklist got longer and time got shorter, which meant late fees got more expensive.

SoHubby and I decided we would just buy movies.  At some point, most movies make it to the $5 bin.  That, my friends, is a long wait.  Us, being part of this fast paced, I had to have it yesterday world, that didn’t work for us.  Then we heard about this great company, Netflix.  You mean they would deliver movies to our house?  There was no special return date?  There was only one low price?  Hot damn!  Sign us up.  And we had a good relationship for awhile.

Suddenly, Netflix started to see it’s stock rise (literally and figuratively) and in my opinion got too big for their britches.  However, my love affair with Netflix started to wane when we went down to the 1 movie and streaming offer.  SoHubby would go on the website and clog up our queue with crap movies.  Movies that at that moment he would have watched, but would forget about by the time they made it to our house.  Here is the journey of a Netflix delivered to the Southern household: Movie arrives in the mail.  Movie is either retrieved from mailbox that night or the next morning.  Movie would then end up in my mail pile. I would get around to my mail pile sometime that day or the next day.  I open movie, say a little curse over it, because it would most likely be a dumb shoot ‘em up movie that SoHubby ordered and place it ontop of the TV or mantel.  Days would go by.  Days turned into weeks.  Weeks turned into a month.  When all of a sudden I spied with my little eye that little red envelope.  Then another curse as I held it up for all to see asking, “How the hell long has this been sitting here.  When are you going to watch this crap, so we can send it back and get a real movie?”  So as you can see folks, Netflix is genius.  They have developed a company where  men and women pay to fight via movie queue and have a little red envelope sits ontop of the TV for a month or longer  Don’t get me started on that crap they call streaming.  Half the time the movie wouldn’t play all the way through without several stops and starts.  Oh but that is our fault, why don’t you upgrade your WiFi.  Yeah, why don’t you bite my….be nice, now.  Then there was no rhyme or reason to the streaming.  One day a top movie would be on there, the next day some D flick you would have to pay me to watch would have taken it’s place.

After the whole rate hike, I was miffed.  I was calmed down with reasons like they had to do it, poor, poor Netflix.  Okay, we can understand the plight of the business when faced with things out of their control.  The dumb move came in when they decided to divide up the streaming side and the DVD side.  Um…exsqueeze me?  Dildo say what?  You expect me to bookmark an entirely different website to put DVDs in my queue?  Oh hell, NO!  I was done, but what could I do.  I wasn’t going to do that Redbox thing.  You want me to do what with my credit card and then you will do what?  Sorry, maybe it is my age, but I am getting the feeling that technology needs to calm down for a bit.  I thought I could just go down to my local Blockbuster.  Oh, but wait!  All the Blockbusters were run out of town by the evil, yet genius Netflix.  Then a light shone over me and the angels sing.

You see I live in a village, next to a couple of small towns.  And one thing that I am constantly told about these small towns and villages is that we are a bunch of hicks that don’t move with the times.  So guess what?  There is a Blockbuster right down a very long highway, but it is there just waiting for us to choose when to get a movie and forces us to watch that damn movie that night to avoid late fees.  The best part is it seems busy, very busy, which means maybe it will stay long enough to build up it’s force, again.   Who is having the last laugh, now?  Well, not the clerk at my local Blockbuster when I told her all this.  Maybe she didn’t appreciate my fine storytelling skills.  Maybe she wasn’t interested?  Nah, that couldn’t be it.  Or maybe she just wanted to get on with her life and didn’t care why the hell I found myself at the Blockbuster with my over energized spawns.  But I felt good.  I finally got to see The Black Swan and go WTF along with everyone else.  I even promised the kids that we could go back on Friday to rent movies and maybe some Wii games.  Then they ran around like I told them Santa Clause was coming to live with us and set up shop in the backyard.  And now my life has come full circle.  We will be release from our prison of the little red envelope back to the freedom of the movie rental store and wait for our implantation of our movie chips.

 

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What is the Magic Number, Part Deux

Since I have 2 kids in “big kid school” I have become scatter brained.  I have box tops, cheerleading, books, homework, algebra (OMG!), trumpets (loudly, I might add), AR for 2 kids, and a million other things floating around in my head.  So getting a cohesive blog post is a little tough.  Half the time, it takes me a minute to get a word out when a conversation is started with me.  I have that deer in headlights look permanently plastered onto my face.  All that to justify another post about how we think about family structure in our society.

I am sure if you have one child people might pity you or constantly ask you when you will have another one.  If you have 2 kids, especially 1 boy and 1 girl, people tell you how perfect your family is and assume you are done.  If you have 3 kids you are kind of stuck in the middle.  You had the perfect family and then you went and messed it up with another baby.  It seems anything after 3 kids is considered a large family and I am sure you get the “what were you thinking looks”.  Basically, how you have decided to structure your family is up for opinion.  If you are lucky, like me, you might even get a professional, totally unwanted, medical opinion on how you decided to build your family.  Then you get the joy of having the feeling that you don’t want that doctor anywhere near your fallopian tubes.

SoHubby and I talked about 3 kids.  After the first, which was like a kick to the throat, I thought I was done.  About 3 years later, we would decide (or I would agree to let SoHubby come near me, again.)that we should try for another child.  Lucky us, I am pretty easy to knock up and number 2 was on his way.  Again, another kick to the throat with a heaping side of losing SoHubby’s job.  That was it we were done.  Although, we had left the door open.  I am not sure what we were thinking.  Financial challenges don’t change overnight, especially when you are self-employed and we weren’t getting any younger. At that point, I was just not ready to close up shop.  I was wrong, according to just about everyone, because I had my girl and I had my boy what more could I want.  I guess I was just greedy.

Choosing the number of children one might have is a pretty personal decision.  I do my best not to ask people when they will start having kids, when they are going to have more kids or expressing any surprise in how many kids they currently have or don’t have.  Really it is none of my business and I don’t know what is going on in people’s lives.  I would hate to badger someone about kids only to learn they were having fertility problems.  So I keep my mouth shut.

I will fully admit number 3 was a big surprise.  I knew I was pregnant before I was pregnant.  I won’t go into the gory details, because this is a family blog (HA!), but I just knew and I was freaked.  We were not where we wanted to be financially (still not) and since we are self-employed medical coverage is no walk in the park.  There are no $20 co-pays in this world.  Things worked out and we are enjoying number 3 along with her siblings.  That doesn’t mean that I don’t have many concerns.  However, I think I would have concerns no matter how many children I had or don’t have.

What strikes me as odd is the comments I get.  I have a weird feeling that people think I have only one child when I am only with one child and that gives me an urge to tell them I have 3.  I can usually contain myself, but I do giggle if I meet someone and they try to give me advice as if I have one child.  I got a comment once from a guy in a restaurant asking me if SoHubby and I had a television.  I was stunned, because at the time I only had 2 kids and was babysitting a friend’s child.  And really, 3 kids is a cause for thinking we don’t have anything else to do.  I did get a Duggar comment, but I think that was just a joke.  I am the first one to tell you that I don’t think I could handle more kids.  Wanting more kids and being able to handle more kids is 2 different things and I know my limits.  I would like to spend sometime with an empty house before I ride my coffin into the sky. The best comment, which came from my father, was “I hope this is a boy”.  No congratulations when I told him I was expecting my 3rd, just hope for a boy.  Which is weird, because he just had 2 grandsons not too long ago.  Karma tis a bitch, because he ended up with 2 more granddaughters and will forever be surrounded by cackling hens telling him he has no idea what he is talking about.

That aside 3 is a weird number of kids to have. First, you are never in a position of having a childfree night when one child has an invite from a friend.  I, either, have one child, two kids or all 3.  I am rarely without a child.  Second, you are an odd number family so seating in restaurants are weird.  Often we are stuck at a table for 4 with the highchair seated at a corner and everyone else is crowded together.  I, often, think what will they do when we can’t use the highchair, anymore, which is fast approaching.  Sister, doesn’t want to be a baby, anymore. She is a big girl and will tell you so.  And forget about fitting your food on the table.  If you are lucky enough for them to put you at a larger table, you somehow feel like inviting someone over to eat with you, because you have a tad more space than you need. God forbid you go out to eat with friends or another family.  There is major decisions that need to be made and a bustle of activity just to accommodate your large crowd.  I mean, why couldn’t you large crowd people just stay home and leave us appropriately numbered gatherings in peace.  Third, you can be either a large family or small family depending on the situation.

Eggs.  Yes, eggs.  The first time I thought we were a large family was when I went to cook eggs for everyone.  At the least it would take 7 eggs to feed the family.  That is more than half a dozen.  I don’t think my mom ever used more than half a dozen of eggs making us breakfast while she was in the position of making our breakfast, but our whole family equaled 3.  It was an odd feeling that a dozen eggs wouldn’t get us through the week.  That was quickly rectified by buying a dozen and a half, which is a tad too much, but you can’t buy a baker’s dozen of eggs anywhere.

We don’t fit into a sedan.  Well, that is not entirely true.  We could fit into a sedan, but not comfortably and not with our stuff.  It is either minivan or SUV.  Of course, we already had a SUV when the first was born, but there is no turning back, now.  There have been a few times where I have had to have my SUV in the shop for repairs and we have had to find alternate vehicle accommodations.  We have tried SoHubby’s Hyundai which is a stretch fitting 4 people in, much less 5.  No!  There is no way you are fitting 5 people in that car, especially with required carseats.  One time we had the larger Chevy volt, which I liked, but only the kids and I could ride in it at one time and then Amber had to sit in the front, which I am not totally comfortable with.  Someone did tell me that a Prius would have more than enough room for all of us.  I would like to know how they did that.  It must have been a family of clowns, because it was hard getting 2 carseats in the back of that thing when we tried.  So we are not spilling out of our Suburban, but we aren’t getting into any car, anytime, soon.

The only time I feel like a small family is when we come across families with more children than us.  If it is hard for me to keep up with 3 kids then it must be harder keeping up with 4, 5, 6 kids.  Of course, many of our parents or grandparents did it and lived to tell the tale.  It seemed normal back then to have 6 or more kids.  Now, when you see an actual family with more than 2 kids, people gasp and you get comments.  That leaves 3 in the middle.  At anytime we can be placed in the small family pile depending on the other families in the room or we could be placed in the large family pile depending on how much space is available.  I guess it is not so bad being in the middle when you can pull the positives as you see fit.  I guess the biggest lesson to learn is not to make comments regarding other people’s decisions.  The taste you are having at that moment is your foot.

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Sesame Street 1 2 3 Imagine

We sat with excitement not knowing what to expect.  Sure we had seen Curious George, but this was Sesame Street!
The kids settled into their seats with their jumbo bag of cotton candy, which they were instructed to share, with eyes glued on the stage.

And then there they were; all our favorites.  We were a little bummed that Zoe hadn’t tagged along with Elmo.  They are best friends, you know, but Abby Cadabby, Ernie, the Count and Cookie Monster were there, so we couldn’t stay sad for long.

We were taken on all sorts of adventures with the help of our imaginations.  You just close your eyes, think of a place and then you are there.  Get it?  1-2-3!

Our favorites were:

Ernie’s trip on the high seas on the SS Rubber Duckie.

The dancing glowing fish kept the kids mesmerized.

We even got to meet an octopus that sang and dance.

Then Elmo transported us to Africa:

Finally the show ended with a parade.  Something we know a little bit about down here:

Of course this show, coming from Sesame Street, delivered consistency and familiarity which made the kids feel comfortable.  There were many kids dressed as their favorite character from the show which I am sure added to their excitement.  The characters moved with ease and their voices were perfect.  A key component when dealing with kids and their favorites.  They will notice the tiniest detailif out of place.  Sam imagined right along with the characters and in true Sesame Street fashion learned through music, dance and pure entertainment.  I will admit I was happy to see my favorites, as well, Count, Ernie and, everyone’s favorite I think, Cookie Monster.

There was only one small problem the 90 minute length of the show.  While I wouldn’t cut anything, because it would take away from the show as a whole, the small kids seemed ill equipped to handle 90 minutes.  Even the most well behaved children were on the verge of full on meltdown after the intermission.  However, that could be that it was 7pm on a Friday night.  I would have loved to have taken the kids to one of the earlier shows, but our schedule didn’t permit it.  Even with the struggle of keeping tired children from melting down, the show was a success.  I mean look at that face what do you think?

That face is all the endorsement you should need to know that this show was a success.

We received 5 free tickets to the show in return for a blog giveaway and my review.

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The BIG Sesame Street Giveaway!

*GIVE AWAY IS NOW CLOSED. Drawing is in process.  Good luck, everyone!

*Remember: To be eligible to win the tickets you need to post a comment on this post.  It doesn’t matter what your comment is about, just as long as it is on this post. *

There will be singing, dancing, and high adventures with all your favorite Sesame Street characters.  My inside scoop tells me that Ernie is a captain on the high seas, Bert meets an octopus struggling with the blues and Elmo, yes ELMO, will be dancing to a beat that can only be found in the African rain forest.  Impossible, you say?  No way, you say? Um, have you been listening?  It is Sesame Street and Elmo.  There is no limit to what they can do.  And my secret source tells me that many of the Sesame Street friends will be there to sing and dance along, too.

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

Because this is such a big show I was given 4 tickets to give to a lucky reader of my blog.  All you have to do is leave a comment between now and October 1, 2010.  Doesn’t matter what the comment says, but keep it clean.  I reserve the right to delete any inappropriate comment, which would then leave you out of the running for these great tickets.  Just thought I had to mention that.  Over the course of the next 2.5 weeks I will give you some Sesame Street trivia to keep y’all busy.  You don’t have to get the answer right to win and you can comment as many times as you want.   The winner will be chosen by either Amber or Sam, depending on who is in the better mood that day, by pulling a number out a “hat”.  Don’t worry, I will record the process so you know it is all legit.

Even if you don’t win you can still see Sesame Street Live “1-2-3 Imagine! with Elmo & Friends” at the New Orleans Arena from Wednesday, October 20 – Saturday, October 23, 2010.  Check the box offices or ticketmaster for times and ticket prices.

Let’s start with our first trivia question.  I will be adding them to this post, so there won’t be any confusion.  Remember you don’t have to get the question correct; it will just give you something to talk about.  Here we go:

Which character is Elmo’s best friend? Zoe

What musical instrument does Ernie play? Saxophone

All of the Sesame Street Muppets have four fingers, except ____, who has five? Cookie Monster

In the first season of Sesame Street, Oscar the Grouch was what color? Orange

I took the weekend off, but here is your new question, how many celebrities have visited Sesame Street? Over 440 (WOW!)

Here’s an interesting one, which puppet is the only in history to have testified before congress? Elmo

Wooooo, another tough one: Where did the word Muppet come from? Jim Henson combined the words marionette and puppet.  Hmmm…I always thought it was monster and puppet together.  Learn a lot these days.

I am going to go with a slightly easier question, Whose Super Hero identity makes him smarter than a speeding bullet? Super Grover

Oops, I forgot to put a question up, yesterday, so here it is, today, Who was the first celebrity to appear on Sesame Street? James Earl Jones

I didn’t forget about the question for Monday.  I was just sick and went to bed early after running around all day.  So, here are 2 questions to keep you busy.  Remember we are almost to the end of the contest.  We will pick a winner Friday night, October 1.

Which character likes collecting junk, standing in line, arguing and rainy days? (This one is easy.  Here is a hint, the answer is not ME!)

Bernice the pigeon belongs to which character? Bert

Okay, once again the technology Gods were against me last night and I couldn’t get my blog to work.  In other words, I went to bed totally pissed off that I couldn’t put up a question.  So 2 questions, again, today.

How many bottle caps does Bert have in his collection? More than 368

How many Grammy Awards has Sesame Street won? 9

Disclaimer: My family was given 5 free tickets to the show for my participation in this promotion.

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Guess Who is Coming to New Orleans?

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

That’s right!  Curious George is coming to the New Orleans Arena Friday, September 10 to Sunday, September 12.  You know that silly little monkey that has been getting into all kinds of trouble for over 65 years.

It was so nice of him to come down for my birthday weekend, but I have a feeling he will be a bit too busy.  How do I know that  Curious George is going to be busy?  Because the nice people at the Vee Corporation have allowed me to give the locals of the Greater New Orleans area a discount when purchasing their tickets. Just go to ticketmaster.com and enter the code FRIEND to receive $3 off, excluding Gold Circle, Monkey and Opening Night tickets.

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

So come on down to the Arena and see what kind of adventures Curious George gets into in his first ever Broadway style show. I hear there is travel, food, and, of course, silly adventures that not only include George’s best friend, The Man with the Yellow Hat, but many other new friends.  You will just have to see it to believe it.  And be sure to say HI! if you see us, because we wouldn’t miss this for the world.  One last thing, stay tuned to the blog,  because I have another surprise coming soon that includes some other friends that you all will know.  I wouldn’t miss if I were you.

Disclaimer:  I have received free tickets for my family to this show for doing this blog post.

Curious George Live!

A VEE Corporation Production in association with Universal Pictures Stage Productions and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. CG: ® & © 2010 Universal Studios and/or HMH. Photos courtesy of VEE Corporation.

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Norman Rockwell Halloween

Halloween was never a big holiday for me.  Sure as a kid I loved the free candy, but I don’t remember classroom parties or endless decorations.     I am not a fan of horror movies and didn’t party like my friends,  so Halloween just became another day made a little better with fun size candy bars.  In my early twenties, I started going out for Halloween.  Nothing huge just hanging around with friends as we watch the crazy unfold. Then I met SoHubby.  The man lives for Halloween.  He likes the dressing up, the decorations and the scaring the crap out of people, especially the little ones.  It isn’t Halloween until you make a kid cry on your porch and then console him with some free candy, hoping his parents are too drunk to remember this.  And, now, with kids, Halloween has taken on a whole new turn.

If you haven’t notice Halloween has become almost as big as Christmas.  Matter of fact all the holidays have.  The kids celebrate each holiday with the same excitement that was once reserved just for the big one, Christmas.  I think the stores play a big part of this, because where there is excitement there is some one spending money.  Tis the American way.  So they start putting Halloween items out starting in the beginning of August and people start to get the fever and the only cure is to spend, spend, spend.  I have no problem with this.  Heck, I welcome it because it just means more clearance once the holiday is over.  Too bad candy doesn’t last a year, at least not in this house.  Besides, Halloween is the first big holiday since school started.  So yeah!  Party, party, party.

Sohubby did get my Halloween spirit going in those early days of our relationship, but I think the kids, especially Sam, have thrown them into overdrive.  No, I am not covering my face in blood, watching Friday the 13th Part 103, or doing my best to give little kids heart attacks, but I am looking forward to Halloween.  I haven’t gotten my vision, though.  As soon as someone mentions Halloween, usually Sam, I can pretty much smell the cool crisp air with a touch of warmth in it.  This is odd only because we live on the edge of the 7th circle of Hell, weather wise.  It is rare to have a cool crisp Halloween in these parts, which means while the rest of the country is choosing costumes for warmth we are steering our kids toward ventilation and  mosquito protection.   However, if we do get that rare cool Halloween night, it is usually spoiled by the heavy hint of humidity in the air.  How can you have humidity and coolness at the same time?  You, my friend, haven’t been to New Orleans in October.  It happens and it sucks.  Still we march on like the true holiday soldiers that we are.

Next are the decorations.  I dream of hay bales with cute and friendly scarecrows and lovely round pumpkins scattered around our yard.  The look that screams come on in, sit by the fire and sip a cup of cider with me.  The husband and the kids steer the decorating more toward the blood, demented minions, gravestones, and things that look as if they have been underground for a century but love to pop up just as you walk by.  You know the look that screams 1950′s haunted, abandoned mental institution that would have been the center piece of any Geraldo special.  Not my ideal, but, again, I go with it, because I am out numbered.   I am sure when the kids are grown and on their own I can torment my lovely husband with all the cute and cuddly Halloween decorations I have always dreamed of.

The pumpkin patch.  I had seen and heard about them from TV shows, but had never seen one in real life.  Unfortunately, when I say pumpkin patch down here, I am not talking the drive to the country from the city to wander the land of a farm searching for that perfect pumpkin.  I am talking the parking lot of a local church who charges by the pound and has made up area for photo ops.  If you are really clever with your camera you won’t get the cars zooming pass on the major street in front of the church.  But if you close your eyes for a second and let the hay scratch you a bit you can imagine that you are in that far off farm in New England finding that perfectly round pumpkin.  As for the pumpkins, while they are better than what you will find at the local Wal-mart or grocery store. They are never perfectly round and most times you are lucky to get one that has one good side.

The one thing I can count on is the candy.  There is just that special mixture of chocolate and wax like candy that smells like Halloween.  And, of course, you can’t have Halloween without the candy corn.  That is grounds for explosion from the holidays altogether.  If you are not rolling on the ground screaming from pain by November 1 you didn’t have a good Halloween.  None of that Harvest Mix, either.  Those waxy pumpkins and brown “chocolate”and candy corn are enough to send me racing to the toilet like I am knocked up with triplets.  Things start to look up on October 1 when I have an excuse to get the candy bowl out and keep it filled with candy corn and other candy that signal which holiday is coming.  We never know why our pants are a little tighter with each passing month from October to January, because surely that small handful of holiday candy, that we grab on the way to the sofa to sit on our ass with our computers and TV, isn’t enough to pack on the pounds.  And all that exercise we get walking the kids from house to house to beg trick or treat for candy, or shopping for the perfect gift or turkey would be more than enough to use up the minuscule amount of candy we consume on a second by second basis.  Not to mention, the stop we make at our friends’ house for a second go around at dinner while trick or treating.  Nothing says love or holidays like food.

I will probably never get my New England Halloween (yes, I think of New England for Halloween) with it’s cool crisp air, apple picking, perfect pumpkin patches and hot cider, which I am almost positive I wouldn’t like.  I will continue on with our Halloween filled with ghoulish decorations that get knocked down day after day, because along with cold humidity comes big gusts of wind.  The kids changing which costume they want and the never ending fight over which costumes is not too sexy (yes, even in the pre tween section) or too satanic or too ghoulish or just plain too gross.  The bowl of candy that screams for me to partake of it’s sweetness until all the good chocolate is gone and then hangs around on my ass until New Year’s.  It is not the Norman Rockwell Halloween that I have in my mind, but it is a good time because it tells us that the cool crisp air we have been dying for since the middle of May is around the corner.  Thanksgiving is knocking on our doors and Christmas is getting ready to make it’s visit and stay awhile.  It is the holiday that comes knocking to let us know that it is that time of the year for families and friends to get together, hopefully, forget the everyday mundane stresses (traded in for those frivolous holiday stresses) and that a new year is coming filled with promise and happiness.  Yes, Halloween never meant much to me growing up, but it has a whole new meaning now.

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My Free Range Kids

Have you heard the phrase, free range kids?  It was coined by this woman.  I haven’t read much of her stuff, but I do remember the fuss over her letting her (I believe) 9 year old ride the New York subway by himself.  At the time I may have only been on my first child and she was young, so I was shocked to hear such a thing.  Especially in the urban jungle of New York city.  For a NOLA girl that sounds frightening to let loose a small boy in such a dangerous city.  I mean our danger is kept within the small square of the French Quarter and there is no way my child/children would ever find themselves alone in that God forsaken place.  Even though I could have been found in the Quarter, by myself, quite frequently in my teen years, but as a parent I have a right to my delusions.

Amber will be turning 8 yrs old on June 16 and I have been lengthening her leash bit by bit recently.  It is as small as letting her go to the Target bathroom while I wrangle my other 2 monkeys in the shampoo aisle.  Of course, I always give my standard line of caution, “Don’t let anyone take or touch you!”.  Sure I am nervous, because as the nightly news and every mother on a mommy board would tell you, we live in a dangerous, dangerous world.  And, of course, the worst case scenarios always start with good intentions and end in public restrooms.  Right?  However, I have this nagging feeling that if I don’t ever let my kids out in the world how will they ever learn to survive?  Then my mother instinct kicks into overdrive and I run through every possible tragedy in my head and end with me throwing myself into my young child’s grave screaming of the immense guilt I have because I let her go to the bathroom without an armed guard.  You think I am joking, but I am not.  I sit in that shampoo aisle counting the seconds and wondering when I should tear through the Target at top speed with Sam blowing behind me, Evie hanging on for dear life and bust into the public restroom to beat the snot out of anyone who dared look at my precious baby cross eyed.  I usually squelch those feelings while nervously looking around the corner, only to see Amber bobbing down the aisle.  I breath a huge sigh of relief and we continue our shopping.

So for me to even suggest what I did Wednesday was a huge shock to me.  I had to stop into the Verizon store for a new car charger, because mine tend to crap out within a few months of me getting them.  I thought I could just pop in and do a quick switch, but nothing in this new technological age is quick.  Especially with 3 kids in tow.  It only got worse when I had to wake a sleeping Sam and drag him sleep walking into the store.  I was very close to having a new car charger in my grubby little hands when Sam started his pee pee dance.  Why my kids wait until the last possible minute to tell me they have to go to the bathroom, BAD, is beyond me.  I try to get Sam to hold it, but I had visions of puddles appearing at his feet, which never makes things run any faster.  So I got the bright idea to have Amber take her little brother to the Starbucks next door.  ALL. BY. THEMSELVES.  Many things ran through my head: someone would nab them and run out the other door, an employee would yell, “HEY, bathroom for customers only!”, or Amber would get distracted by a shiny object, release her brother’s hand and he would wander into a huge vat of thick frozen caffeinated drink and vibrate his way home.  I pushed those thoughts aside and gave Amber her orders: 1. hold your brother’s hand 2. take him to the woman’s restroom (Don’t get me started on the horrors of the men’s restroom), 3. don’t leave with anyone, 4. don’t let anyone take you and 5. DON’T LET ANYONE TAKE YOUR BROTHER!  Their they went, hand in hand off to seek relief in the Starbucks.  I watched them out of the huge Verizon window and remained at that window until they bounced their way back, hopefully blissfully decaffeinated.  My eyes never left that window, even when I had to carry on a conversation with the sales lady helping me with the difficult car charger exchange.  Again, my relief only came when I saw the 2 of them run from the Starsbuck laughing.  Mission completed and all was alive.

I still wonder if I did the right thing.  I guess I should forget about this incident, because everyone came out fine.  However, there is the nagging feeling of what if something happened?  I can’t help thinking what if the outcome would have been different?  How would I feel about my decision then?  Isn’t that what life is?  A series of decisions that go good or bad?  When I was a kid I ran around my neighborhood alone, looked through the toy section as my mom shopped, sat  in the car alone with the windows down while mom ran in to get a couple of quick items, hell I was a latch key kid and was left at home many times for hours by myself or caring for my younger brother.  But people will tell you those times were different.  Were they really?  I mean these days we can put tracking devices onto our kids.  We can give them cell phones so that we can remain in constant contact.  I am sure that eventually there will be a chip we can put in our kids to keep track of them or for someone to scan to see who to charge for the damage.  So how can our childhood be more safe than today.  Today we have 24 hours news coverage to tell us what a scary world is out there and how we should be hiding under our beds until it is safe to come out.  I think my slightly less nervous medium is letting the kids have freedom while I stand by counting the seconds they have been gone, twirling my fingers while watching out of windows and slightly lengthening the invisible leash as I see fit.  I, also, reserve the right to shorten that invisible leash at any time.  It is my right as a mother.

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