Motherhood Uncensored

Imitation is the Ultimate Form of Flattery

Farbeit for me to take credit for anything I come up with these days. I'm pretty certain you've gathered that I'm fairly unoriginal. I am a certified blog thief - although I prefer to think of it as easily inspired.

So in the interest of spreading love and not hate, I have taken up the challenge from Mom-101, and will attempt to find the positive about this here place I live called Mississippi. And, like the title says, I do believe imitation is quite a nice way to give a compliment.

Southern Accents

They can make anything sound friendly, so much so that I've probably been cursed out many a time and all I hear is "yeeeewwwwssssuuunnnuuvvaaabiiiiiiaaaatttccchhh" - sounds like what my daughter says to me every morning. Cheers!

Jalepeno Cheese Grits

Well, who doesn't need a little zing in the morning - and cheese tastes good on everything. Plus, a plate looks so empty with just a big sausage patty and oily eggs.

Monogrammed Purses with Pink Feathers and Beads

I can't tell you how many times I have misplaced my pink feathered purse (the nice lady even pulled it out of the McDonald's trashcan for me) so I think the monogram will help me easily pick out mine amongst the other very fancy handbags, especially since mine says SOB.

Paying for a Fancy Meal with a Check

I'm an old-school/vintage-chic/crunchy kind of gal and well, checkwriting is a dying art. Plus, isn't paper better than plastic?

That's all I have in me... Blech. I'm going to go curse out the dogs now.

Why My Students Will Never Be Writing Songs for Sesame Street

As I was thinking of my topic for today, I did a quick mental run through of all my previous posts and realized I hadn't written much of anything about work. There's probably a good reason for that - namely, I feel as though work stories tend to have a had to be there kind of air about them and I work with clients and I feel as though their shit (unlike mine, obviously) should be kept private. BUT, I am more than willing to share funny stories of my students, and that is what I offer you, dear MU readers, today.

If you haven't picked out this info, prior to motherhood, I was a college professor in music therapy. If you (like most other people I meet on a daily basis) have no idea what the hell that is, click here. My job consisted of preparing students (through classwork and clinical situations) to provide therapeutic services for people with health needs by using music. Sounds really complicated - or at least I try to make it sound that way because playing music for sick people just doesn't have the same ring.

Once students have the BASIC ability to play an instrument (namely guitar or piano - maracas for the really slow ones) and sing at the SAME TIME, I send them off into actual clinical situations with real live people - basically a group of fourteen 3 & 4 year olds at the campus daycare. In music therapy speak, that's an easy crowd; you can sing or play ANYTHING and they are happy (hence my argument for the popularity of Barney and the Wiggles). Students generally give me the she's-throwing-us-to-the-wolves type reaction, not knowing that if I threw them to some adults, they would literally be chewed up and eaten as a nice salty nursing home lunch.

As a professor, I have the joy of watching these lovely interactions from behind a two sided mirror. When I was a student, the two-sided mirror gave me some level of ease; I knew that if I royally fucked up, someone was there to save me and I didn't have to look at their scouring face while I did it. What I didn't know is that the tw0-sided mirror was purely to provide professors with a little mid-day entertainment while masking their 4-minute eye rolls when a student (me) forgets the tune of "Row, Row Your Boat" and repeats it 12 times, OR hiding their vigorous wrist-slitting motions when a student (me) sings a song entitled "What Did You See On The Way To Music" to a person who is TOTALLY BLIND and missing one eye.

So, when I encountered this ditty, I shouldn't have been surprised. It's a music therapy student's proud moment when they unleash a self-created music therapy song upon the masses of snotty-nosed children at the day care center. And, generally speaking, I review the songs for content BEFORE they do them - alas, this one must have passed by me (or maybe I saw it and just decided I'd stick around for the good show). In either case, this doozy, performed with much energy and gusto, reminds me that my students WILL NEVER be writing songs for Sesame Street.

The Beaver Song

Beaver one and beaver two, show us what your beavers do

[Actually, my beaver doesn't do any tricks these days]

chchchchchchchchchchch <-- chomping noise?

Beaver three and beaver four, open up your beaver door

[do they have doors or is that just virgins?]

chchchchchchchchchchch

Beaver five and beaver six, show us all your beaver sticks

[past conquests, perhaps?]

chchchchchchchchchchchch

Beaver six and beaver seven, let's all go to beaver heaven

[where is this, exactly? the playboy mansion?Ah the old beaver home...]

chchchchchchchchchchchch

Beaver eight and beaver nine

STOP - It's BEAVER TIME

[I have nothing to say]

[enter bad booty shaking]

Taste the World is Here!

I am very happy to welcome my renter (and regular reader who just so happens to be ON my blogroll) Taste the World. She's been a great sport (as a gal-sans-kids) to frequent my little mommy blog - and it just so happens, she's got a lovely place of her own as well. She's also one of several ladies who will be engaging in our guest post/blog exchange tomorrow. So, take a little hop on over and say hello.

There are still TWO full days left of voting - so get off your asses, click on the link in my sidebar and vote. Even if you didn't play, you can still vote. It takes like 2 seconds, people.

My Name is Kristen: It's Nice to Be Married To You

I'm not exactly sure why this is so hard for you to get, but I will try to help you understand. My name is Kristen, not Petra, and it's nice to meet you. I figure my pasty white skin, lumpy ass, and rolly post-preggo belly gave it away. But, apparently not. I'm sure Petra's tan is REAL, and her ass has absolutely no lumps anywhere. And, I'm sure that even if she did have a baby, her belly would be flatter than my new post-breastfeeding chest. But, what do I know?

I'm sorry that my sexy underwear only highlight the wideness of my hips and the dropping of my fomerly perky ass cheeks. And, god forbid my poorly groomed pubic hair pokes through my pseudo-fancy panties and scratches your soft sensitive skin. I'm sure that would never  happen at Petra's silky smooth beaver palace. Maybe she can afford to have Svetlana rip out her probably soft, blonde, fuzzy pubs on a weekly basis, but me - I'm stuck with some scissors and a cheap-ass razor in a dark bathroom. I do the best I can. Sure you can sit a drink upon her ass cheeks and fit her into tight places, like an overhead luggage bin, but both of those things are highly overrated.

I assume that when Petra yells or bitches, it all comes out sounding like a Russian phone-sex operator to you. She probably farts roses and shits big bars of dark Swedish chocolate. And put her in a t-shirt, nursing bra, and mismatched socks, and she'd still be practically perfect in every way.

But, my dear husband, you married me. Perhaps at one point in time I looked Petra-esque. I even found my way into a few magazines and down the runways of several Philadelphia fashion shows. And while I would never have fit into an overhead bin, I did fit quite easily in your arms - and it seemed as though that at one point in time, that was all that mattered. I know that I'm far from the epitome of hot and sexy these days - my zit-covered face and large middle section leave little for even ME to desire. However, if you want to get laid in the next century and still keep your family in tact, then I suggest you get over it really fast, close your eyes (if you must) and head my direction. Because Petra won't be coming to visit you anytime soon.

I Feel the Love All Over the Place

To my utter surprise and joy, I have been voted CHBM Member of the Week. The powers that be My kind readers thought enough of me to send a vote my way, and as always, the love is much appreciated.

My blog and I had an enjoyable weekend at the SPA - and you are looking at the results of much scrubbing, scraping, and pulling. Hopefully, things are easier to see and find. You'll see a few new things here and there - most of them are worth clicking on. I decided to add links to a few of my favorite posts on my About page. Perhaps that will help my cause in this harsh blog dating world.

It seems this morning brings with it much love around the blogosphere. Mom-101 (a fellow nominee) has a lovely post about looking the the "sunny" side - she even found a good thing about New Jersey (other than the fact that I was raised there). Izzy (also a nominee) is making shirts for charity as well. I encourage you to stop over and take a look.

I have mastered the art of linking separate pages to my blog, so if you are looking for the contest finalists and voting details, click on the link you will see on my sidebar.

Now on the to the good stuff...