Just Peachy

My kids and I witnessed a car spin-out on a major highway last weekend on the way to my mom's house. Thank goodness that no one was hurt becasue this was the most exciting event of Dylan's young life. I would hate for it to be tainted by sadness.

When we get to Cape Cod he can't wait to tell grandma about the accident. When Grandma asks if the people in the car were hurt Dylan' replies.

"They weren't hurt, they were African." Dylan is studying the continents in school and they are currently learning all about Africa. I jump in.

"Honey just because they were black people that doesn't mean that they are actually from Africa."

"Black?" Dylan says with a surprised look on his face. "They weren't black mommy! They were brown." My mother starts giggling.

"Yes that's true. However people with brown skin are black people or people of color."

"I am a person of color too!" Dylan says proudly.

"Sorry to burst your bubble honey, but we are white people."

"White people? That's ridiculous! We are not white people. That would be terrifying like ghost people!"

"I see. Well if we're not white what are we then?" I ask

"We are peach!"He says and my mother now has a grin from ear to ear.

"Dylan has a good point, dear. We are all in fact people of color." My mom says triumphantly. She loves when the kid out smarts me. Which is too often to mention. My darling smart peach boy of color.

Liar Liar...

Facebook is ruining my social life. Now everyone knows what I am actually doing. I can't tell little white lies to avoid sell-at-home parties anymore. Why? Because of all of my friends. They are all on Facebook and their posts always rat me out. I learned the hard way about 6 months ago when I was new to Facebook. I canceled birthday party plans with a new friend because a much more fun old friend invited my family to her house in Maine for the weekend. A child's birthday party or a fun filled weekend in Maine? Easy one right? I thought so too...Wrong. The little white lie part was easy, I told the new friend that one of the kids was sick and that we didn't want to infect the whole party. Then we went to Maine and had a blast. Easy as pie right? Wrong. When we returned my Maine friend commented on my page about what a fun weekend we had and even posted pictures. Of course my new friend saw them and instantly became my former friend. I was so busted and embarrassed. Now I am much more careful.

I have a friend who has taken careful to a whole new level. She can never write about her plans on Facebook becasue her sister invites herself along. Or the sister shows up uninvited to parties and park play dates. This friend now writes decoy comments on her Facebook page to throw her sister off her trail. I know. She is brilliant! She is my hero. I would do this too, but I can barely keep my real plans straight if I added bogus plans my head would explode.

Facebook is like Orwell's Big Brother. You can't invite a select group of girls out for a quick drink because the uninvited girls will feel bad. I know this firsthand because my two friends went together to go pick up a chair that one of them had purchased on Craigslist. One of them posted a comment thanking the other. My first instinct was that my two good friends were cheating on me behind my back! Why didn't either of them invite me to go pick up a chair? I'm nice. I"m fun to drive with? I was busy playing compter games and I would have said no, but sometimes it's just nice to be asked.

Which leads me to the other problem with Facebook automatic posts. Personally I am addicted to a few of facebook's arcade games and I am often procrastinating and playing them. Then with out my knowledge my page is sending out little updates. Little comments pop up. Lydia is playing her 4th consecutive hour of Bubble Blasters. Man the site is such a snitch. Now when people instant message me I have to chat with them. Of course I want to lie. Sounds easy right? Wrong . I can't say I am busy becasue they know I am just playing games. I can't say that I have to go make dinner becasue they will see that I am still online becasue Facebook tells them that too.

Do other people have to know everything that I am doing? What's next? Lydia is cyber-stalking old boyfriend's again. Lydia is cyber-stalking old co-workers again. Lydia is cyber-stalking acquaintances again. Lydia obviously has cyber-stalking issues and way too much free time on her hands. Please invite five friends to start the intervention process.

S

Mommaphobias

There are many of us moms who are frightened by other moms. However their is no official phobia named for this affliction. I did find the phobia Gynophobia which is the fear of women. Which of course terrified me because of the resemblance to the word gynecologist. Phobias are scary.

Since there is not yet Mommaphobias. I took the liberty of naming the phobia myself and have complied a list of the subcategories.


Allergiaphobia: The fear of the mom who's kid has so many allergies and sensitivities. When you call we have to spend 3 days sterilizing our house and our fridge like an operating room for a half hour play date.

Pradaphobia: The fear of super designer moms. They are so above us on the fashion food chain that we fear that they will eat us alive.

Eeyoreaphobia: The fear that the negative draining mom's will get us feeling so low and depressed that we'll go home and eat a whole gallon of ice cream.

Gossipaphobia: The fear that our chatty fun mom friend who tells us every one's secrets will some day tell everyone ours.

Alphaphobia: The fear of type A super bitch mom. She always has to be in charge and most of the time we let her because we value our personal safety.

Ivyaphobia: The fear of intellectual elitist moms. They have those smarty pants kids who play chess and have a much better vocabulary than most adults. They are just weird and can never be trusted.

Crunchaphobia: The fear of earthy crunchy moms. You love the outdoors and tofu, but would it kill you to water some deodorant and shave? Your personal hygiene scares us.

Klumaphobia: The fear of mom's who have the bodies of supermodels. Especially when they have more then one kid. I know that they are actually aliens.

Bloggaphobia: Fear or moms who blog. You are always afraid that your most embarrassing moments will be published on there blogs for the world to see. So you better be nice to them and keep on their good side.

Dave's Playing With Dolls Again

On Saturday Dave and I were in our bedroom. No we weren't doing that. We are married. I was changing out of my gardening clothes and he was mapping out a bike route on his laptop. Alice was running in and out jumping on the bed, being loud, destructive, and completely adorable the way only a three-year-old can be. Eventually the room grew way too quiet. Alice's bedroom door was closed and she was way quiet. DANGER! I ran into Alice's room to find her on the floor putting sunscreen on her dollies. Not just any sun screen Dave's expensive 50 SPF special titanium alloy NASA Space program cream that costs $19.00 a tube. Why can't the kid grab the cheap CVS brand stuff?

Dave is a sweet heart, but he was an only child. He has been reprogrammed and desensitized over the last 11 year. However he still gets a bit of an eye twitch when we touch his stuff. Now here is his whole tube of special sun screen slathered all over Alice's Anthony Wiggle doll. Upon finding Alice and her carnage I picture Dave screaming bloody murder and falling to his knees in slow mostion You know? Like they do in movies for dramatic Affect? In my head he is yelling "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Then I realize that I am yelling "Alice no! Daddy is going to kill you." Which is so bad! Bad Mommy!

Now poor Alice is crying and hiding in the closet. I am trying to coax her out and telling her that Daddy won't physically kill her. He'll just be a little mad. Dave comes in and sees his sun screen all over the floor and the dolls. The eye begins to twitch then he sees tear streaked Alice through the opened closet door. Dave's face softened and he knelt down toward the door and reassured her that he is mad, but that he loves her no matter what.

He was so calm and loving. I was so proud. Alice left the closet and ending up snuggled in her daddy's arms. Another crisis ending in a Life Time TV moment. Maybe our family isn't as deranged as I think?

Then about a half an hour later I see Dave wearing his bike riding clothes rubbing the Anthony Wiggle doll all over his body. I take a double take. Dave says. "I need sun screen. I think I can squeeze enough off, but I'll need a new tube."

On the other hand maybe we are a bunch of Fruitloops living in our little white box in the suburbs

Why Fat People Hate Heat

I hate the word hate, but hate is the only word that I can use to describe my relationship to hot weather. The only way I can survive hot weather is to be in air conditioning or to be at the beach. (Please notice the portrait of me and Anabel at the beach painted by by frederick Botero.)

Today we are experiencing 90 degree heat in New England and I have neither a beach nor air conditioning! In my house the air conditioners don't go into the windows until at least June and the ponds and outside pools are still closed. However if this was the weekend I would be in Cape Cod at the freezing Atlantic ocean today. But today is a weekday and my poor son is melting at his seat at school.

However the real people who suffer on days like today are us fat peoples. The first problem is the heat. Our bodies are covered from head to toe with special blubber insulation that traps the heat and makes us overheated and uncomfortable. Have you ever worn a parka on a hot day? Fat is never fun.

When a day is hot like today regular people simply wear less clothing. Easy right. WRONG! We can not simply wear short shorts and tank tops because we are fat. You don't want to see our giggle-flab arms and rolly-polly cellulite thighs. We know what you think of fat people especially fat girls. We know you make fun of us. Hell we don't want to see ourselves either! Also their is the matter of chub-rub. Our thighs rub together in shorts. Then add in heat, friction, sweat and by the end of the day you are left with chub-rub-burn in delicate places. Picture aggressively rubbing two chicken breasts together in the hot sun. Not a pretty picture, it burns, it bleeds, it hurts, it's humiliating.

Once you have chub rub burn once you will do anything to make sure that it never occurs again. That's why most of us girls wear long shorts. We want to make sure to cover all of the fattest parts of our legs so our shorts are always ankle length and in black. We have to wear black at all times to help us look slimmer. Or we wear a long black skirt or a long black dress with a long sleeves of course. We have to cover up those fat arms. I am serious. If you are wearing a skirt or dress you have to wear shorts underneath to prevent chub-rub-rash. The shorts have to have a little spandex so they don't ride up. I like work-out pants. Picture this fat logic. To cool off on a hot day we wear tight hot work-out shorts under our light flowy black sun dresses. We start off hotter than you and then we are forced to wear black layers? Fat people are nuts. I know I am their queen.

I know that you are thinking that if being fat is so bad, painful, and uncomfortable why don't you just loose weight? Eat less and exercise. Right. Right? RIGHT! I can't believe you are so insensitive! How dare you! I need cookies!

Swimming in April Ice Water

On Friday we were on Cape Cod vising my mom. We of course being me and my cheeky side kicks. We did what people usually do at the end of April on Cape Cod we went swimming. We of course referring to my cheeky side kicks. Because no one else in their right mind would go swimming in a salt water ice machine! Especially me. For those of you who don't know the water on Cape Cod in April is a balmy 45-49 degrees. I put in my foot to test the water and the ocean water was so cold that my foot went numb. Seriously my foot was completely frozen and I still have my winter blubber to keep me warm. I have no idea how those crazy kids actually went swimming. They were the only air breathing mammals at the beach who were actually in the water. I warned them not to go beyond their waists becasue if they started to drown they were on their own. I told them that the only way I would enter the water would be if I spontaneously combusted into a ball of fire, then and only then would I go in to that water.

If you live in Boston or New England you know that my kids just 2 of hundreds and thousands of deranged people who annually swim in frigid New England water. Have you heard of these weirdos who go swimming in New England in winter? The oldest and most famous of these clubs is the L Street Brownies. "It's been a New Year's Day tradition in South Boston since 1904; on the morning of January 1, the L Street Brownies go for a swim in Dorchester Bay. Hundreds of spectators, newspaper reporters, and television crews cheer them on. The next day—and every other day of the year— the on-lookers are gone, but the Brownies return to the beach in front of the L Street Bathhouse and plunge into the icy waters of Boston Harbor."
You already knew that we are all strange up here in New England right? Did you know that we are nuts? Listen to me. We are a bad example. Just becasue there is an ocean there it doesn't mean that you have to swim in it! Swimming in freezing icy salt water can not be good for you. I am not a doctor, nor am I a marine biologist, but I have watched them on TV and my official recommendation is that Cape Cod is much too cold to swim unless you are a crazy kid or a blazing ball of fire. Oh or if you are so drunk that your body is numb anyway...

Hey Go Fly A Kite

Seriously When was the last time that you flew a kite? I am feeling very confident that I have never flown a kite before this week. I grew up in a condo and I was never allowed to walk on the grass in the courtyard with out being yelled at. How could I fly a kite?

My kids and I have recenlty discovered kite and we love them. We have been flying kites all week. The key is buying cheap kites and in bulk. Until the kids and I learn to use them better.

Today we went to the 9th Annual Kite Day for Autism at Bose in Framingham. We had a great timne saw friends and lots of kites. Too bad we all got sun burned. Do you know that we are in the hottest days of summer in Massachusetts? We went from long pasnts and sleaves to tank tops and shorts. I didn't even have time to diet! Heck I barely had time to shave. But this article isn't about me it's about kites. I love them! Do you?

Comment and tell me how you feel about kites.