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August, 2012

  • Life Lessons Learned From Wiping My Hoo-Ha

    Girls have to wipe every time they go to the bathroom.  Unlike men, who get to shake off the majority of their elimination processes, women have to go through the motion with each excretion experience.  If I were to calculate, a chick pees about 5 times a day, (because everyone knows that girls don’t poop), so you take 5, multiply that by the amount of days you are alive, and that means a heck of a lot of wipes.

    During my most recent sweep across my lady parts, I realized something very significant about my bathroom strategy.  Every time I am peeing, before I am done, I always reach for the toilet paper.  That means that during my mid-pee, I am spending mental energy unraveling and negotiating the thin sheets, rather than focusing on the release.

    Why don’t I wait until the pee has been fully expelled into the bowl? Why must I multi-task during this precious procedure?  And do I ever truly empty my bladder if I am always slightly contorting and manipulating the modern day papyrus for the pussy?

    Too much?


    But my point is the human tendency to start one thing before finishing another; the ever-lingering susceptibility of living five minutes in the future.  No matter what is going on, you are wondering what is going to happen next.

    Of course the solution is as simple as it is complex.  Live the moment, be one with what is happening, and all that jazz.  But this idea is so abstract.  What does it mean to truly be in the now when we live in a culture so saturated with stimulus?  And how can all this distraction be simultaneously so boring?  Is it possible to reconcile that even though the answer is so obvious, it is also so obviously hard to accomplish?

    Maybe I need to just drip dry?


    August 31, 2012 • 2 years old, Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings, Pee & Poop • Views: 1906

  • Can’t you see I am trying!?

    No relationship is effortless.  Having functional dynamics with people depends on how willing you are to work for it.  You are never going act exactly how another person wants you to, and no one is ever going to be your ideal company.  Intimacy demands compromises.  So much so, that often you just want people to acknowledge the fact that you are trying to do what they want.

    “Can’t you see I am trying?”

    How many times have you said, or heard that?

    And sometimes trying is all you are going to get with people. They don’t live in your head and know all your needs, wishes, and desires.  You may try to explain it to them, but how are they ever going to fully actualize your vision of how you want them to be?

    And of course trying can be exhausting and emotionally wearing, especially when someone doesn’t appreciate your tries.  At least if your tries are acknowledged there is some meaning to the madness.  But when your tries go unnoticed that is when you can start to feel like you are taking crazy pills.

    For instance, when I am dealing with the incessant irrational demands of The Munch, who has endless requests for me to enact… acts that literally make no sense.

    “Mamma, put the stroller on the table.”

    “Fine, here you go.”

    “Nooooo Mamma, no stroller on the table.”

    “Okay, I will take it down.”

    “Noooo Mamma, put stroller on the table.  STROLLER ON THE TABLE! Waaaahhhhhaaaahhhhh”

    “Okay Munch, here, the stroller is back on the table.”

    “Mamma, put the plate in the stroller.  The plate in the stroller.”

    “Okay… here, the plate is now in the stroller.”

    “Put napkin on stroller Mamma.”

    “Sure… napkin on stroller.”

    “And tomato”

    “Uhhhhh, let me find one.  Okay, done. Tomato, napkin, and plate all in the stroller… which is on the table.”

    “Nooooo Mamma! Munchee needs plate.  I NEED THE PLATE! Waaaahhhhhahhhahaaa! I NEED THE PLATE”

    “Okay Munch, don’t cry! Here, you can have the plate!”

    “I need stroller too.”

    Another example of my relentless trying… Munch and I went to the beach together….

    “Mamma, get in the water.”


    “No Mamma! No Mamma in water!”

    “Munch, I am already in the water, you are not the boss of me okay.”

    “Okay. Mamma, drink the lake water.”




    August 30, 2012 • 2 years old, Musings, Relationships, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1461

  • Hypnosis Parenting

    There are a lot of different parenting strategies and techniques that people subscribe to.  Helicopter-parents, tiger-parents, attachment-parents, and my personal favorite, getting through the day and trying to do the best you can because no matter how much you want to be the perfect caregiver you are going to fuck up somehow so why not just enjoy the ride -parents.

    But recently I have heard of a new parenting style that I am ready to subscribe to. The hypnosis parenting technique! What???? This sounds amazing!

    You mean I can hypnotize The Munch into doing whatever I want her to do? Like massaging my back, folding my laundry, and letting me eat all the mud pies? Woo hoo!  What does it take to hypnotize my child into being my subservient?

    According to the National Accredited College Of Hypnotherapy you can absolutely hypnotize your child into doing what you tell them to do. And this is the example they give as to how.

    “First, stop. Put your hand on the child’s shoulder, look directly in his/her eyes and give directions as statements, not questions. For example, you can say, “John, it is now time for you to take out the garbage, please.” This is more effective than, “Can you take out the garbage now?” Want to increase the chances that John will do it the first time you ask? Simply nod your head up and down in a “yes” motion as you give your direction, and you will notice John nodding back!”




    Okay… so basically talk to your child with accompanied body movements.  Pretty revolutionary stuff.   Never would have thought of that on my own

    “Munch, look into my eyes… you are getting sleepy, very sleepy.”

    August 29, 2012 • 2 years old, Parenting • Views: 4381

  • Am I as good as I think I am?

    Not every great artist, or thinker is appreciated while they were alive.  Many find their fame long after death, once the zeitgeist has caught up to their genius.  I like to keep this thought in the back of my mind when I am feeling insecure… just knowing that someday there will be a museum dedicated to my tweets.

    Not everything you think you are good at you will get public recognition for.  This is a hard pill to swallow, so I suggest crushing it up so you can snort it.  Sometimes creating can feel like throwing yourself into an abyss.  As you fall into the endless blackness you keep hoping to grab onto something, anything, so somebody will notice you.

    But does that mean you stop trying?  Just because you aren’t getting the validation you hoped for?  When does something become a waste of time, or a childhood dream that has transformed into a distraction from your adult responsibilities?

    I am sure there are thousands of people who give up, and there are thousands of people who don’t.  What differentiates them is that maybe for some, even if the world doesn’t appreciate their efforts, the need to express themselves is greater than practicality.  But either way, life will be hard.  You will either feel the regret of letting go, or the eternal torture of yearning.

    But creative thinking is not about necessarily making a career out of it, but inspiring yourself to keep creating.

    So Munch, that is why I don’t throw out you kiddie drum set…. Also known as THE MOST ANNOYING FUCKING TOY ON PLANET EARTH… in the spirit of your future passion as a slightly uncoordinated, off beat, drummer.

    August 28, 2012 • 2 years old, Musings, Working Mommy • Views: 1268

  • LIfe Lessons From a Thumb That Smells like Pussy

    Some days you wake up and just feel like punching people.  No particular reason why, just one of those moods that evokes intense irritation and fantasies of violence.  You pick fights, curse under your breath, roll your eyes at the sun for being too bright… Not only does life suck, but everyone around you is a half-hearted blow job.

    Needless to say I was in one of these funks this morning.  And of course, nothing attracts crappy energy like crappy energy.  So because I was so wrapped up in my own testiness, I burnt all my fingers.  How does one do that you might wonder?  I did this by putting a plate in the oven so I could reheat some old strawberry pancakes that The Munch didn’t finish, then took said plate out of the oven and placed it on a matt too cool, but then 7-seconds later decided I was too hungry to wait, so greedily grabbed the plate…. Which had JUST COME OUT OF THE OVEN.

    My thumb got the worst of the scorching so I did what I thought any normal person would do when they got burnt.  I put ice on it.  Makes sense right??? Ice is the opposite of hot right?  Well, by burn was not feeling any better and I could feel the damage slowly melting layer through layer of my skin.  So after about a half hour I looked up holistic remedies for burns and guess what I found out.

    YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO PUT ICE ON BURNS????!!!   I officially do not understand physics.

    What evidently you are supposed to do is put onion on your burn?! So I pureed an onion and made an onion paste, then fashioned a condom like contraption with saran wrap and some tape, and enveloped by burning thumb in onion.

    Strangely enough, it did seem to do the trick, although my hands smelled like I had been finger-banging a skunk.

    Then I had to take my funky finger to the yoga studio where I had been planning for 2- weeks to attend this 2 ½ hour meditation.  Believe you me, this was the LAST place I wanted to be.  But I was seduced into going with the promise that after this mediation all my cells would be regenerated or some crap like that.  I am such a sucker for new age assurances of mental clarity and perfect oneness!

    Lets get something straight here, I knew this was going to be really hard… but considering the mood I was in, and with my thumb smelling like rape, I was kind of a afraid I might lose my mind.

    During this meditation we were to chant a mantra about our infinite nature, the eternal mystery of it all and phhhhhhhllllllltttttt.  The guy leading it said the 2 ½ hours would fly by because we would lose all sense of time and space as we connected on the astral plane.


    So I cannot say that I truly found my Zen, but it did provide me with some insight.  During my mediation I would feel totally annoyed, angry, wanting it to be over, really wanting it to be over, exasperation, frustration, boredom, fucking wanting it to be over so badly, thinking I was going to freak out and karate chop the guy leading the meditation, boredom, boredom, being so bored, wanting it to be over so insanely that I could puke, then a sort of calm acceptance.  Things would be okay for a little while and I would feel somewhat peaceful if not happy… then the cycle would start again.

    But the only reason I kept with it was because I knew it was only 2 ½ hours of my life.  It was going to end.  I wasn’t going to be doing this forever.  So I was just watching my emotions like they were a movie.  I had this distance from it all, which felt healthy.  Like that is what I am ultimately striving for in my actual life.  To observe what I am feeling, not deny it, but not to be controlled by it either.  Allowing emotions to pass through me while I keep on my path.  But it is hard to achieve this in my everyday experience because life seems so endless.  But it is not.  My life, just like the mediation is totally finite.  The only difference being I don’t know exactly how long my life is going to last.

    Much like the smell of my thumb….






    August 27, 2012 • 2 years old, Adventures, Musings • Views: 2053

  • Attracting a Mate

    In the animal kingdom the males are the prettiest and flashiest of the species.  The peacock for example with his shiny feathers and ostentatious tail is by far more magnificent then the female who is gray and brown.  Male animals have to perform intricate dances that rival Michael Jackson, sing songs that make James Brown look prude, and have Vercase plumage in order for the women to desire them.  It is the male’s responsibility to attract a mate.

    So how come all a human male has to do to get laid is buy you a beer and text a picture of his boner at 3am?

    In our species it is the women who are expected to preen, polish and paint themselves.  Men are considered sexy with scruff on their face, messy hair, and rumpled clothes.  But a woman should not only manicure her nails, toes, and pubic area, but also decorate her face with semi-toxic dyes, have hair as shiny as a horse’s mane, be thin enough to see her tendons, as fashionable as runway model, and of course make it all look effortless.

    Why are the women doing all the hard work to attract the men?  Isn’t having a vagina enough?

    I know a lot of women want to look good for themselves and not just for the men they are trying to seduce, but I still think there is something backwards going on.  But since I have hatched a daughter into this world, I am fully aware that these pressures are going to be affecting The Munch just as they do every woman.

    So I would like to be able to help her figure this all out.  It is not like you have to look your best everyday, but more just good enough to feel appealing.  You can seriously waste you life grooming, so the key is spending as little time as possible.  I think this is best accomplished by a great smile, a good attitude, and killer accessories.

    I am pretty sure Munch has got it going on….

    August 24, 2012 • 2 years old, Musings, Parenting • Views: 1122

  • Pay Attention To Me and ONLY ME!

    When you are spending time with someone they usually want you to be present.  Living the moment with them.  No one likes to hang around while you are texting, talking on the phone, staring off into the cosmos, multi-tasking, or distracted in general.

    The Munch is no different.

    She gets so irritated when I am preoccupied with my own life and not paying attention to her.  It is like she is metaphorically tapping her feet waiting for me to focus on her, but instead of using subtle symbolism she is yelling “Mamma” in my face, which she is grabbing with both hands.

    I get it.  It annoys me when she won’t get off Facebook and I want to go play in the sandbox.  But The Munch doesn’t seem to sympathize that there are only so many times I can count to ten while jumping before my mind wanders.

    I really try to make an effort to commit to our time together and engage fully in her world.  She is only a child craving my attentiveness for so long, and I do want to honor these memories.  I make it a point to abandon my self-involvedness and immerse my psyche with hers…. Even if that means a slight obsession with playing peek-a-boo behind the tree.

    But sometimes I am too engrossed with what is on my mind.  So much so that I will placate whatever irrational need she has, just so I can do what it is I have to do.  Today was one of those days.  In order for me to concentrate on myself I gave Munch the reel of floss she had been demanding. Which she then asked me to open… and then unraveled and ate for the next half hour.  At least her next diaper change will have a fresh minty scent.

    August 23, 2012 • 2 years old, Baby Brain, Behavior, Musings, Parenting • Views: 1151

  • The Creative Bowel Movement Divination

    Creativity is like pooping.

    You have something inside of you that you have to get out.  In fact, it is a physical and psychological must.

    You can’t focus until it is expelled from your body.  All your energy is concentrated on figuring out the best place to open either your anus or mind to expel the content of your inner being.

    Sometimes it flows easily like watery diarrhea.  Other times it takes a more concentrated effort, like the one of those black hard excretions of shit logs.  Then there are the pellets that plop out, and leave you feeling unsatisfied.  Like you didn’t live up to your full potential.

    And of course, the most painful, the most excruciating is the feeling of constipation where you can’t release any of the crap at all.

    Your welcome.

    August 22, 2012 • 2 years old, Musings, Pee & Poop • Views: 9348

  • Forgive and Forget

    I forgive you, but I won’t forget what you did.  So I will bring it up every time we get into a fight, because I remember.  But don’t worry, I totally forgive you, I am just bitter and resentful enough to recall your actions when it is convenient for me.  Sound fair?

    Forgiveness is complex.  Especially with contradictory clichés that tell you not to forget the wrong doings of whom you are graciously forgiving.  I really don’t get how that works.  Because if you dwell on how that person hurt you, and always keep it locked in your memory banks, do you ever really let go? And is that truly forgiveness?

    In my worldview, if you are going to forgive someone you have to fully surrender.  You can’t keep someone around who you are still angry at just to punish them more the next time they fuck up.  It is like keeping a person hostage to their guilt and misdeeds.  If you are going to allow them in your life, you can’t continue chastising them for past exploits.  Of course there is a fine line between accepting the bullshit people throw at us, and taking a bath in it.  It is easy to drown in feces when you never stand up for yourself too.  Being the bigger person doesn’t mean you have to be an emotional doormat.  So sometimes you can’t suspend the blame, and that is fine, but then you have to set that person free and not be in their life anymore.

    In order to truly forgive someone, I think it is necessary to understand their motives.  You don’t have to agree them, but having some sort of comprehension of why they did what they did will help.  I have had people in my life who I felt betrayed me, and the challenge was extending empathy to their experience.  But once I committed to being sympathetic to their psychic state, I was more sensitive to their position.  As long as it wasn’t doggy style.

    I have acted questionably to people in my past, and it wasn’t’ because I didn’t love them. It was mostly because I was being selfish.  Or weak.  Or too scared to deal with reality.  But mostly selfish.  The people that were able to forgive me for my dubious actions were the ones that took the time to talk to me about it in a real way.  It was never easy for me to admit my petty emotions, but it was only through that humbling display could the other person feel for me, rather than at me.

    Forgiveness is about acceptance.  Accepting the fallible nature of the human condition.  The unpredictable impulses that expose the ugliness we all harbor.  Forgiving can feel empowering…

    So Munch, I forgive you for taking Baby from me… and for upstaging me in this picture.



    August 21, 2012 • 2 years old, Musings, Relationships • Views: 1336