Women do unto others as they'd have done unto them

Thanksgiving has me thinking about my fellow man. (Man of course meaning mankind, not the man fellow next to me). I'm not the biggest humanitarian you'll ever encounter. Sometimes, usually while driving, you'll hear me yell out, "Peeeople! AAAAAAgh! PEOPLE! That's it. I'm building a cabin in the woods and I'm going to live off the land."

I would never do that, of course. And not just because I don't have the required carpentry and survival skills. Not that I've seriously looked into it. I would never do it because I believe that we need a sense of community to thrive. We need to feel as though we are a part of something bigger than ourselves. We need to feel included, needed, helpful and appreciated. By other people.

Interactions with other people are going to be as tricky or as simple as we choose to make them. Here are some things I've learned that you might find helpful.

1) You are not better than anybody else. ANYBODY. But here's the good part. Conversely, nobody else is better than you. NOBODY. You will be happier if you relate to all people as peers and equals, with the exception, of course, of children, who need to be treated with respect but are not to be treated as peers.

2) There is no free lunch. No free selfish or nasty deed. I'll even venture as far to say no free selfish or nasty thoughts. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Yes, it's better to think a bad thing rather than to actually act on it, but better yet to train ourselves to purge negative thoughts at the bud stage. They hurt and poison us, and they also have the power to effect those around us.

Taken from Ralph Waldo Emerson's Essays: First Series (1841), Essay III: Compensation:

All infractions of love and equity in our social relations are speedily punished. They are punished by fear. Whilst I stand in simple relations to my fellow-man, I have no displeasure in meeting him. We meet as water meets water, or as two currents of air mix, with perfect diffusion and interpenetration of nature. But as soon as there is any departure from simplicity, and attempt at halfness, or good for me that is not good for him, my neighbour feels the wrong; he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is hate in him and fear in me.

When we are in the throes of negativity, whether it be self-induced or inflicted upon us by another, we are presented with a choice. We can choose to take it in and let us poison us. Or we can brush it off of us like metal shavings from a magnet and remain light of heart and free to love and be loved.

3) When you're feeling pretty good about yourself and things are going right and you're receiving back-pats and accolades from people you admire, choose humility. Don't believe your own hype. It is an illusion. You are just you, the same you you always were, warts and all. You still poop. You still sneak a Dorito every now and then. You still think negative thoughts about your friends and beat yourself up over it. A choice to be humble is a choice to be happy. A choice to be humble frees you from fear of falling and the curse of perfectionism.

4) Do not share your good deeds with others. Keep them to yourself. This is a lot harder than it sounds. But if you know ahead of time that ain't nobody knowhow going to find out about that wonderful thing you're about to do, you will be less likely to step into the bear trap called self-pride. And this can lead to more struggles with humility. You know this already and don't need me to tell you. I'm only reminding myself publicly, not telling you what to do.

Also, as goofy as it sounds, we sometimes stop ourselves from giving to others or doing good deeds because we are subconsciously afraid of the attention we will receive because of them, and the embarrassment that attention will bring to us. People will tell us how wonderful we are, and because most of us really think we're less than wonderful, the guilt and shame will creep in, effectively punishing us for doing a good deed. This of course will cause us to be less likely to give and help and share in the future. Best to keep your trap shut and your heart open.

5) Don't ever give up. EVER. If you give up, you will die inside. Remember that with love all things are possible. Your dream is worth it. You are worth it. A better life must be had. And yes, you can fly.

Christmas is approaching. I love Christmas and Hanukkah time. People are a little nicer to one another. Family suddenly becomes more important to everybody. I'm lucky enough to have people I love around me, and I do not take that for granted. I'm going to keep on working on becoming a little less of a selfish, self-obsessed ninny so I can have more to offer them and you. If you see me acting up, please do call me on and give me a chance to make amends rather than writing me off completely. I promise to do the same.

Women (and babies!) love Bumkins!

Bumkins Grinchmas Gift and Contest! With any Bumkins Dr. Seuss Purchase receive Free Grinch Superbib and automatically be entered to win a four pack of Dr.Seuss How the Grinch Stole Christmas Ornaments! Just enter grinch08 at checkout to receive your complimentary bib.

As if hobnobbing with other Mom Bloggers wasn't enough of a bonus of membership in the Mom Bloggers Club, (a club I still want to be a member of even though they'll have me), I was recently offered the opportunity to review some products from Bumkins new Dr. Seuss line. I know, life's been rough.

This opportunity holds special meaning for me. I've been a big fan of sneezles and kabeezles, yahoo Doris and all things Dr. Suess since my childhood in the 1970's. I've also been on the lookout for a new Bumkins bib ever since "the dark day", which came to pass shortly after Lily Rose was born. Weary and demented from lack of sleep, I had somehow managed to melt Joe Joe's favorite Bumkins monkey bib on our gas stove.

Please don't send any emails of concern for my son's welfare. I assure you Joe was not in it at the time.

The package from Bumkins arrived ceremoniously a couple of days ago. The dogs were spitting and barking and growling and being generally inhospitable. From the sound of things, we quite naturally assumed that the abominable snowman himself was juggling ferrets covered in fish sauce whilst spraying them with a hose. A quick inspection by The Bitter Half proved this to be a false alarm. He returned carrying a brown box and wearing an expression most often seen on Desi Arnaz before shouting "Looothy!".

A dollop of drool began to form on my chin. Bitter Half's eyes widened. He froze. I pounced. Oh, yes! I was excited. I don't get out much I'll give you that. But still - this is Bumkins gear! I couldn't wait to see what they had sent. I cut the tape and let Joe open the box. One by one the treasures emerged and I laid them out on my crafting table and gazed upon them in all their shiny spanking-new glory.

They had sent me the Dr Seuss Fleece Bunting, a Dr. Seuss Junior Bib, a colorful Dr. Seuss Christmas ornament, and their new catalog!!! I fondled them. I sniffed them. The Bitter Half will tell you I even licked them. I basked and appreciated and thought well heck, this is a very nice treat.

I shot a look at Joe Joe, who inexplicably had food on his face. We locked eyes.

He balled his chubby little hand into a fist and ran. I chased him down and got him settled with a clean shirt and a cup of snoozleberries. Then I put the bib on him. He didn't tear it off so I can only assume that he was happy again and had finally forgiven me for maiming his monkey bib.

Then it was Lily's turn. The Dr. Seuss Fleece Bunting is a 12 month size and too big for her at the moment, but that didn't deter me.

I am grateful that the good folks at Bumkins thought to send the 12 month size rather than the 6 month size, so she will be able to wear it all Winter. I love the way the blue and white polka-dot lining frames her face. This outfit would work well for a child of either gender. Both the hands and the feet of the bunting are cuffed and could be turned in to let hands and feet be free, or turned out to form mittens and footies to keep little hands and feet warm on a cold Winter's day. It is soft enough on the inside to be worn over a diaper, and roomy enough to be worn over clothing. I love it. It's a real quality product and I appreciate the thought that went into it.

Lily had a ball posing with the Dr. Seuss ornament. No fun pun intended.

We're all happy as clams here at the compound. Thanks Bumkins for the opportunity to review your exciting new product line. You get two thumbs and a stinky toe UP!

Women Generals say the darndest things

This morning The Bitter Half pussyfooted into the kitchen, Newsweek in hand, brimming with giggles. (He would call them chortles). He said, "You've got to post this on your blog!". What he was referring to was a funny quote from Perspectives section of the 11/24 issue of Newsweek:

"There is no one more surprised than I—except my husband. You know what they say: 'Behind every successful woman, there is an astonished man'."

~ Gen, Ann Dunwoody, speaking at a ceremony in Washington, D.C., honoring her for becoming the first woman to achieve the rank of four-star general in the U.S. military

It was funny! He was right. I responded with a "Well, good thing you'll never have to worry about that!" and a smile.

Not having been a victim of astounding success in any field, I can't speak to the truth of her statement. Is it true? Are the "men behind the women" (figuratively of course) astounded when their xx's achieve critical acclaim, accolades, or crash though a plexiglass ceiling? Successful women out there, please speak to this if you can.

I can't help but wonder if this is the curse of familiarity rather than a gender issue. You know. You've been there and done that. Your loved one introduces you to something, be it a concept or product, and tells you how wonderful it is. You give outward gestures of support and encouragement even though your mind is glazing over. But it isn't until a source outside your bubble of love and nurturance introduces you to the very same thing that you begin to get excited about it.

Then you do it—that thing you swore you'd never do. The thing you'd stab your significant other in the eye for. You go back to your loved one and tell him or her about this great new concept or product, about how it's going to change their life and make everything finally gel and develop new meaning. It's going to crack open their artistic eye and reveal life's true hidden purpose and God's real intentions. Your loved one spontanously combusts in a fit of fury and rightly so.

Generally speaking, that is.

Women like warning labels

I just stumbled across this fun little Warning Label Generator today. Couldn't wait to share it with y'all in hopes that it will bring you some Friday fun!

I'm presently on my first post-Lily period and it's a doozy. Don't say you haven't been warned!

Women love to shop on Black Friday

I am not one of those women.


I suspect I may have a touch of proximity disease. When too many people violate my personal space bubble at any given moment I freak out and start snapping like a turtle. But if I do bend to peer pressure and venture out that day, please don't smack me at The Gap and rip a sweater out of my hands.

For the real women who enjoy this type of thing, here is some news for y'all. Happy shopping!

Apple may launch most aggressive Black Friday sale yet

Best Buy Black Friday Ad Posted Online

Black Friday Sale Updates

Black Friday: Man CRIES on News Because He Didn't Get to Product in Time! (From 2005)

Black Friday Just Got Greener: 13 Tips

Black Friday Info

Black Friday Online

Black Friday Sales Arrive Early This Year

Sears Black Friday Ad Leaked Online

Tricks to Get Black Friday Deals Without Standing In Line (From 2006)

Walmart Forces Black Friday Website to Remove Walmart Black Friday Ad

Walmart's Entire Black Friday Sale Information Posted!

Women fight back against offensive Motrin ads

Me looking like a "real Mom".

If you've been around the web today you couldn't help but notice that some new Motrin ads have Moms in an uproar. At best, the ad folks over at Motrin are misinformed. At worst, they are belittling and downright destructive. It's as though Motrin went out of their way to infuriate their target audience. They want you to buy Motrin because babywearing is hurting your back. Then they insult you for doing it in the first place. I've heard that no publicity is bad publicity. Nonetheless, things don't look good for Motrin, Infant Motrin and Children's Motrin going forward unless they take action to mend the wounds and to prove that they aren't as out of touch as they appear. It's simply not smart to anger Moms, let alone Moms with keyboards.

Taken from News Anchor Mom, here is the verbatum:

Wearing your baby seems to be in fashion. I mean, in theory it’s a great idea. There’s the front baby carrier, sling, schwing, wrap, pouch. And who knows what else they’ve come up with. Wear your baby on your side, your front, go hands free.

Supposedly, it’s a real bonding experience. They say that babies carried close to the body tend to cry less than others. But what about me? Do moms that wear their babies cry more than those who don’t. I sure do! These things put a ton of strain on your back, your neck, your shoulders. Did I mention your back?! I mean, I’ll put up with the pain because it’s a good kind of pain; it’s for my kid.

Plus, it totally makes me look like an official mom. And so if I look tired and crazy, people will understand why.

Here's a You Tube video that sums up the sentiment on Twitter #motrinmoms:

Women learn to expect the unexpected

Two days ago my son flat out refused his diaper. I tried everything. I offered a pull-up aka "big boy diaper" alongside a traditional, classic, more Ralph Lauren style diaper. I even whipped out the big guns—a pack of "big boy" underpants that I had been saving as a reward for the first time Joe took a dump in, or in the vicinity of his potty chair. They glow in the dark. GLOW! He still wasn't interested. Tossed them on the floor and ran out of the room wailing.

I couldn't for the life of me get him to put on a diaper the rest of the afternoon. In his defense, he did yank a dirty diaper from the trash and try to put that on. I asked him why he wanted to put on a wet smelly diaper when he had such a cool big boy sweet-smelling fancy pair just waiting for him. He wailed and ran away. I pulled out the baby powder. I bargained. I told him he could use the whole entire bottle on his butt if he would just put on his diaper! More tears.

At this point a neon green booger began to slide down his face towards his mouth. I plopped him butt nekkid into his high chair, looked him in the eye and delivered my earnest inquiry, "If you have to go potty say 'Potty!', and I'll take you into the potty room and put you on the potty chair." Then, as an awful horrible reflex I finished up with the dreaded, "Okay?". Might as well have put a crown on him and changed his birth certificate to read The Prince of England.

Then I did the unthinkable.

I called The Bitter Half.

There, I said it. He thought it was funny. FUNNY?!?!? After about 30 seconds of passive aggressive silence on my end, he serioused himself right up and offered a suggestion. The same suggestion he gives for everything. The universal cure-all. "Give him a bath!". "Oh please... a bath?!?". Hmpf.

I saw that Joe was finished eating and lifted his leg. No poop. No puddles. Whew. I took him down and said, "Are you ready for your BIG BOY diaper?". The Prince of England shook his head no. Sigh. I sat down at my desk for a little Twitter comfort. Off to my left Joe was pointing to something and proudly proclaiming "Potty!". I didn't need to look. I knew what it was. He had understood my earnest request after all. Just not the correct order.

Perhaps I would follow The Bitter Half's advice. I didn't have to tell him about it, did I? If it was a success and my son allowed himself to be diapered, I could always throw some dirt on Joe to make it look like I hadn't given him a bath. Yes, that sounds reasonable. A bath it is! After a half hour of good fun and bubble making, Joe indicated that he was ready to get out. As I lifted him and the bubbles cleared away I noticed some pebbles on the bottom of the tub.



Hmm... I wonder where he found the pebbles? I wonder... Hey wait! Those aren't pebbles.

I glanced at my son. He had "that look" on his face. He wasn't meeting my stare. Hmm...



Upon closer inspection my suspicion was confirmed. POOP. Sigh. And with the poop came unexpected blessed relief. At least he hadn't pooped on the rug. Has it come to this? Yes, apparently it has. Two minutes later Joe was happily bediapered.

I forgot to throw dirt on Joe and rub jelly into his hair. The Bitter Half arrived home. Oh no! Surely he would notice the sweet smell of soap on Joe's hair and get all puffed up and bask in his righteousness for the rest of the evening. As it turns out, he didn't. But I still glared at him from time to time as though he did. Sometimes you have to head them off at the path.

Instead he motioned me over to look at Lily. "You've got to see this", he said.



"She has her whole hand in her mouth!". Her whole hand?? This calls for closer inspection.



Yes it does appear to be her entire hand. What did it mean? Was she hungry? Was she sending me a message?

Message received and understood. Women must learn to expect the unexpected.

Women take good photos of their kids

Devil in the machine

If I want to be a real woman, I'd better learn to take a better kid pic. Sure, I snap a keeper on occasion. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. But two out of ten is not an acceptable success rate when it comes to capturing priceless, treasured, fleeting, unrepeatable and irreplaceable moments in the lives of my offspring. Two out of ten is surely the devil's work in action.

Case in point:



I took that photo of Joe Joe the other day. I'd finally broke down and purchased a pencil stroller after Joe grabbed three different color groups off of the DMC rack at our local sewing store in one fell swoop and made a run for the border. He put Elmo in the stroller and proceeded to be cute. I wanted to capture his cuteness for all eternity. What I grabbed was a plastic stroller handle insulting my son's face with its very existence.

I even do it to the baby:



Lily's not getting any younger. She's growing up and away from me, farther and faster with each passing day. I'm afraid to blink lest I should open my eyes and find her driving off to college, casually blowing her exhaust onto my teary face. Like the girl the gold watch and everything, it's up to me to stop time. It's up to me to grab the moment. Carpe momentito. Instead I grabbed half a head.

I had better get a grip on the devil's hold over my camera and quick.

Women often encourage feedback

Wh-A-t? Feedback? Why would anyone in their right mind want to encourage feedback??? What good could possibly come of it?

Calming down here—yes, I can see why feedback might be a good thing. It can help you to become better at everything you do. You can become a better wife, a better Mother, a better friend, better at your career, even a better blogger. In fact, feedback is probably integral to growing as a human being. Intellectually, I realize this.

Yet, I don't possess the emotional maturity to handle feedback. To me it always feels like criticism. "Do it my way. You are doing that wrong." I can't quell the voice inside me that whispers doubt. If one procures and takes too much feedback to heart, does one run the risk of becoming homogenized? Do we become a better, sharper version of ourselves, or just stronger, faster, slimmer bionic women who look, sound, and expresses ourselves just like everybody else? Should we make mistakes in our own time at our own pace in order to morph into our true higher selves? Or if we eschew feedback are we doomed to become the snake who eats her own tail?

People are meant to be different. I don't trust people who look, sound and smell too "normal". I can't help but think that they must be tucking their true selves and intentions deep down inside in order to present the desired projection of themselves onto my retinas. I've always enjoyed watching a good makeover. It's amazing how little it takes to "fix" somebody. But in the end I always feel a little sorry for the makeoveree who is left looking like good little soldier for my imagined homogenization movement.

I've begun to question givens. I am always asking myself if buying a product or service is really needed, or if I'm just lining the pocket of group of people who have a vested interest in making us feel like we're not good enough, pretty enough, thin enough, don't have the right hair, the right butt, the right house, and even the right kids. Nobody makes a dollar off of us if we decide to be okay with who we are. If we decide that we already have everything we need.

I won't be asking for feedback any time soon. But when I eventually do, I hope it leads to something good.

It's time to face facts. I'm prematurely becoming a Senior Citizen.

Hey, I have nothing against the blue of hair and cranky of mood. In fact, some of my best friends are older than dirt. Walking sticks are a fine invention, and are at their best and most useful when being shaken in the face of a passing teenager. I don't think there's a darn thing wrong with standing on your lawn in your walking slippers for hours at a time shooting eye daggers at nothing and nobody in particular.

Yet, silly me, I thought it would be a good 15 years before I was ready to throw in the towel and start looking forward to early bird dinners at Denny's. I was wrong. It's true. I'm over the hump. There is a new trend (besides hip hop which just needs to go away along with showing your thong and your butt crack) that I just don't get. I don't understand Facebook apps. I really, really don't get them. They seem fun and friendly enough. Kate from One More Thing is kind enough to give me a green patch plant every now and then. I copied my friend Sabina and gave myself a Jennifer Aniston piece of flair.

But I don't know what any of it means. Pieces of flair, ok I can figure that much out. But what is "fluff voting"? And why do none of my "stories"? (Stories???) show up on my own news feed. I need them to be there so I can see just how dorky I appear to the outside world. But they don't. They're not there. And nobody in the help section knows how to make them appear.

There are some Mommy apps, (whatever a Mommy app is), but I don't know what to do with them. I just don't get the big picture. What if I do something silly on Facebook and don't want anybody to know about it but a log of my silliness is posted on everyone's profile? Worse yet— what if I do something awesome and nobody is appraised of it? What if my one totally awesome action goes completely, pathetically unseen and dare I say it - uncommented upon?!?

I don't get it. But my friend Patty joined up today and I'm pretty sure she won't get it any more than I do. And I know her well enough to post stupid stuff on her page and not have to worry that she'll think I'm a nuthead. Because she already knows that I am.

Is too much social media a good thing?

If you're reading this blog post, odds are you are already acquainted with social media. I got a crash course myself after I started blogging a few months ago. I now Tweet and even recently plunged down (dare I say its name lest I evoke it?) the Face Hole.

And if you're anything like me you probably find yourself wondering which social media are right for you. I've been trying a few things in order to determine which, if any, are a fit for me. After reading this article today, (which should be helpful to any of you who have recently been laid off), I'm wondering with great trepidation whether or not I should add a couple more platforms to my test route.

Here are the social media detailed in the article. Have you tried any and all of them yourself? If so, please do share your thoughts and opintions about them.

• Facebook - Been there, done that. So far it's not nearly as scary as I expected it to be. But it's not as much fun as MySpace. (I used to have a MySpace account ages ago. Not as me, but as a character, you know, like The Easter Bunny. I wish there was a way to message all friends at once (even though I do not have an expansive friends list). And it's not as much fun as MySpace. I suppose it's more "adult", but it's a bit bland by comparison. Plus, it's confusing to a newbie like me. All the applications have my head spinning. And I still can't find out how to replace my wall with a "super wall". And I don't even know why I want one.


• Twitter - I've been doing a spot o' Tweeting. So far it's pretty fun. I had no idea so many life coaches existed, and neither will you if you start Tweeting as well. They will find you. But hey, they are a positive people and throw out positive energy.


• WordPress, Moveable Type, Blogger or Tumblr - You are looking at my WordPress blog.


• LinkedIn - I've carried the impression that you need to have your suit and glasses on to join this one. It's probably untrue, but I'm sick of suits. I want to dye my hair purple and wear patched overalls while I work.


• Flickr - I really like Flickr. You can share your photos in a social media setting, join groups, and allow complete strangers to view and comment on your stuff. This is a great site and you can learn a lot from others, including professional photographers.


• Upcoming.org - Up what?


• Meetup.com - In person????? *faint*


• Seesmic - Who's Mic and why would I want to see him?


• 12seconds.tv - I can do a lot of things in 12 seconds, but I've never heard of this place.