Motherhood Uncensored

You've Got to Keep Him Separated

My son has decided that the only place that doesn't cause him great emotional tribulation and grief is in my arms.

Not laying next to me. Or even on top of me. Or even attached to my boob.

You'd think that being attached to one's nipple would be completely and utterly satisfying, but he just blows zerberts on them when he's not hungry. (um. hello. weaning cue?)

Nope. He wants to be held, by me, all the time.

Unless he's playing in the dog's water bowl, putting the entire contents of my coverup in his mouth and on his face (How he opened the bottle is beyond me. He's brilliant! A future professional make-up bottle opener!), or using the open dishwasher door as a trampoline.

Funny. He was completely and utterly satisfied when he tossed the DVD remote into the toilet yesterday on my husband's watch. 

But then I come home, or wake up, or come out of hiding and he's nestled into my extremely tired arms.

So do I let him destroy the house?

Or hold a 26 pound one-year-old. That can walk.

(Thanks so much for that brilliant advice. Would you like to come over and hold him all. day. long?)

Siblings That Play Together, Stay Together

Afternoon silence can mean only one thing in my house.

Did you think it was both my children napping? Please pass that crack pipe you're smoking.

It means trouble.

Now my daughter is definitely past the fingerpaint the in-laws' walls with pen ink phase. But Drew, on the other hand, is a little holy terror.

Thankfully, he usually waits until I'm about to grab him before actually engaging in anything too destructive. Like the fine art of toilet splashing -- made better with the presence of gobs of now soaking wet toilet paper, and on special days, urine.

So, last Thursday afternoon when the children where nowhere to be found and an odd silence took over my gigantic base house I was worried.

But wouldn't you know that for the first time ever, the two little siblings were playing.

Together.

Now granted my daughter was using him as a live and extremely mobile dress-up doll. And Drew had taken every single article of clothing out of her drawers and placed it in a Jackson Pollack-esque pile on her floor.

But they were together, in the room without screaming, biting, or pulling of any extremely valuable hair (we're baldies, after all) for a good solid 20 minutes. And they were almost totally entertained by each other's presence. Well that and the 4000 blocks that had seemingly made their way completely under the bed. 

And it gave me a glimpse of one of the reasons why I did this whole "we're having another one" thing in the first place.

You know. So my daughter would have someone else to force into dress-up clothes and leave me in peace.   

By Gum, It's Gum!

I gave in to my daughter's pestering request for a piece of gum.

I know, first it's gum, then it's a padded bra and a Bratz doll. But what's so bad about minty fresh breath wafting from the tiny mouth of a three and a half year old?

I mean, she's talking all the time anyway, her breath might as well smell like a mighty spearmint wind.

I'm not sure what did me in. It could be the overwhelming guilt that her brother keeps ripping all her princess stickers to bits. Or that she stuck her hand out in an "Oliver Twist can I please have some more" way and I couldn't help myself.

But there she was, chomping away on her little tiny spearmint piece of Trident.

I felt like I had just taken her shopping for a training bra.

"Don't swallow it," I said about 40 times, her eyes in shock as she tasted the sugar-free chemical goodness of her bright green gum.

"Now look. It's not candy, you just chew it over and over and over and then swallow your own sugary spit until it starts to taste like ass cardboard and if you're done with it by god don't swallow it or throw it on the ground because that's bad for the earth because it's made from a combination of weird substances that even your stomach enzymes can't tear apart."

Then I realized how incredibly gross gum is.

And then she asked for another piece.

[Dare I ask if you let your preschoolers chew gum?]

And This Would Be Why I'm Not a Food Blogger

Is it me or does the whole entire blogosphere cook with pretty beautiful foods that turn into entire meals that are edible? Yeah. Well not me. I'm proud to say that I will never ever ever have a food blog (and after you see this post, why I will never have a photography blog).

But since we're sharing vegetarian recipes as part of NoMeatPo week (put down the bacon, my friends, and win prizes), I offer you my 100% vegan meal (ala Pioneer Woman style), perfect for breakfast, lunch, hell, even dinner.

The Cast of Characters: Organic Peanut Butter, Bread, All-Fruit Natural Jam (just don't call it jelly, please), and Applesauce (starring as a sidedish, or dipping sauce if you're a freak).

Bread placement is key. If you go too quickly, you can use the wrong side of the bread, creating leakage of ingredients from the actual sandwich. This is not a desirable result. Therefore, carefully place the bread on the plate.

Evenly spread peanut butter on the bread. You'll know when you have the desired thickness when you can write a word, in this case I chose "Yo"* (it was the first thing that came to me, but any word will do) and as you can see, I didn't cut through the peanut butter.

Then you spread the jam. Remember, don't call it jelly. Fruit spreads tend to be difficult to spread, which seems sort of odd, since it's called "spread" and not "lumpy pieces of fruit chunks in a jar."

Put the sandwich together and cut it in half.** I've seen some folks attempt the triangle cut, but since you're using a butter knife for spreading purposes, I suggest a vertical cut for better precision.

Open your halves so there is a room for the applesauce and place it on the plate.

Take off the foil applesauce top and find a spoon. And there you have Peanut Butter & Jam with a side of Applesauce.

*I don't generally write words in my peanut butter, but I figured this was going to be one hell of a boring post so I figured I'd add a little something fun in there to make it interesting.

**I know I skipped a step, like putting the actual bread together to form the sandwich, but it was taking too long to make the damn sandwich and I was hungry.

Apparently It Does Matter if You're Black or White

I might be the last person in the world to write about politics thanks to my extremely eloquent and well- informed counterparts who do it way more justice, but after Obama's huge victory in South Carolina last night, I had to say something.

Clearly he has a beautiful message. And I'm almost certain that he could whoop the ass of any of the Republican candidates.

But, for folks to say it's not a "black vs white" issue is wrong.

Why do we continue to deny racial issues in this country? The black vote is extremely important to candidates and it should be. And for many black voters who have never voted before, seeing a black candidate is a motivating factor.

It's just a good thing he's got decent policies.

Am I saying that black voters are uninformed?

Yes. But so is the rest of the country. We know more about the American Idol contestants than we do about the presidential hopefuls.

I am one of them. 

Few people are truly honed in on what this country needs and who has what it takes. We're more likely to vote for an attractive President than an ugly one, regardless of what he or now she stands for. And considering Obama took 81% of the black vote [corrected], I don't think I'm making a far stretch to say that we might just vote on race.

But what about gender?

I was reminded about the hard road Hillary has, thanks to our still male dominated society who would probably pick a black man over a white woman. If Obama has a struggle bringing in white voters (which I honestly don't think he does), Hillary has a problem with the male voters.

Are men going to vote for her?

I suppose if she was a hot white woman, with large breasts and a sweet smile, perhaps. But her eye bags, large hips, and sometimes aloof demeanor probably isn't appealing to the slew of uninformed male and even female voters, regardless of what she stands for.

And there are still a lot of men in this country who do not believe a woman can run it. They use the "Hillary" excuse. But it's not about Hillary. It's about her private parts.

The truth is, even when it comes to reality shows, we don't vote the issues. We vote who we thought was cutest, or who we thought did the best that one night.

Are we really going to treat the Presidency of the United States like a call-in singing contest?

It's amazing to see the two biggest issues in our society, race and gender, come into play. It's the most fascinating race I can remember.

So if there is a year to care, my friends, this is it. Granted they're not singing out of tune wearing some robot costume, and they're not eating boiled bull testicles on some remote island.

But they are going to run our country. That's got to matter more.

Other posts and blogs of note*:

Obama Predicted to Take it

Skip This One if You've Got an Elephant Bumper Sticker on the SUV

Momocrats

The Parental is Political (great bulleted list on each candidate)

*Yes. I'm biased. Last time I checked it was my blog.

New Mission: NoMeatPo Week