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Blog July 2009 If You Came of Age in the 80s, Here Are Some Tips for De-Aging (without surgery!) I no longer sing along to ICE ICE BABY -- how could I? I tell myself. I was barely born yet. I say, "Cyndi Lauper? Never heard of her." When Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" comes on the radio, I don't joke around by raising my hands in the air and pretending I'm John Cusack holding a boom box in Say Anything. "Say Anything?" Um, sorry, I got nothing. I must have been getting potty-trained. I've dumped Ralph Machio as my childhood crush. Ditto Boris Becker. Who? Drakkar what? A cologne? Noir, huh? Never smelled it before. I just don't even say the word ALBUM -- not even when talking about photos. I NEVER admit I was scarred as a child because I wasn't ever picked to be Farrah when playing Charlie's Angels. (I was Kate Jackson and am still BITTER about it.) June 2009 Bridget Down Under Check out Bridget's blog for the Aussie's, where My Husband's Sweethearts has just been published. Joshilyn Jackson is a GODDESS! June 18 Here's her brilliant blog where she let me step in and answer a few delightful Q's and we're giving away a bunch of FREE signed copies of THE PRETEND WIFE. Click here to see her amazing site, Faster Than Kudzu. June 16 Today, I walked through the kitchen where my 14-year-old daughter and some of her friends had gathered, and one of them said, "I love Pyrex." Thought #1 -- I'm so lucky. I have a kid whose friends say things like "I love Pyrex," when I, as a kid, was plotting with friends on how to steal quarters out of their mom's pocketbook -- to get a fix for our Pacman addictions. Thought #2 -- Kids today don't love Pyrex. No one really LOVES Pyrex. Pyrex is taken for granted. Thought #3 -- Keep an eye on my pocketbook. June 15 I wasn't sure if anyone had posted the first chapter of THE PRETEND WIFE online ... and, lo and behold, someone has. I suggest you read it to the tune of 90s pop -- or a little WHY CAN'T I BE YOU -- accompanied by a big bowl of ice cream ... to strike the mood ever so right. Click here for the opening chapter. June 14 Two books to buzz: Emily Franklin's new book TOO MANY COOKS has us cooking. Here's the link. The insanity? She has four kids and she COOKS for them, real food. In fact, I'd go so far to call it cuisine. And I'm proud of myself to get take-out and have Freezer-pops on hand. Sheila Curran's new book EVERYONE SHE LOVED -- it hinges on the unbreakable bonds between women. You will dig it. New Book Birfday! June 9 At a birthday, one of my sons wished for a candle and then blew out the candle. Joy is all about expectations... And today is the birthday for THE PRETEND WIFE! (There was also a birthday where my daughter lost a tooth and put it on my cake plate, near the white icing. And, later, when she asked me where it was ... um, I had to say: I think I ate it.) Southern-Style June 8 Click here for Southern Author's blogspot where I blogged bloggishly on June 8. Meet the Rockers June 7 Normal families take pictures in white button downs on beaches. This weekend we opted for a fake punk rock band cover album photo shoot -- lots of eyeliner and angsty angry expressions -- even the baby who's got plenty of angsty anger. He's mid-potty-training. One day it may show up here: awkwardfamilyphotos.com I'm not kidding. The sight is real and hilarious! Big Boy Underpants Cake June 2 Here's a pic of the Big Boy Underpants Cake that my 14 year old made for her little brother who's in the midst of potty training.  That poo-poo is not a real poo-poo. No. It's an artistically inspired, well-placed, slightly manhandled tootsie roll. Summer Reading Shout Outs June 1 A fun link -- Click Here -- from writer of kid books to kids about summer reading and writing. May 2009 Things I've Eaten Recently with a Tasty Tip of the Day (a new feature!) Deep-fried cheesecake with chocolate ice cream. This was at, of all places, a Japanese restaurant. I digested it just fine until I decided, while doing sit-up in front of the TV, to do scissor kicks in the air to the tune of the Macy's mother's day commercial. This was a bad choice. I paid which brings me to my: Tasty Tip if the Day: Go easy on the deep-fried cheesecake with chocolate ice cream. But if bent, don't do scissor kicks over your head. In addition to making you nauseous, it will probably only make the fat content rush to your heart. Things I've Eaten Recently with a Tasty Tip of the Day I'm a sucker for things wrapped in bacon. I know this about myself. And yet, in a mood-lit apartment, celebrating the birthday of one of my favorite grad students, near Cinco de Mayo, I popped something bacon-wrapped into my mouth without really inquiring first as to what it was. Or, perhaps someone did say what the bacon-wrapped item was and I wasn't listening. Perhaps it was even labeled and I wasn't reading labels. Basically, bacon blurs my rational thought. The item was a jalepeno pepper. There was also cheese involved somehow. It burned my tongue, my throat, my gums, and even, I do believe, my teeth. To quench it, I downed a marguerita. Perhaps not the best choice either. I'm a lightweight. (And my distant history with marguaritas, in my youth, is not happy.) Alas, I suffered. Natural consequences. This is sometimes the best way to learn. Although when bacon is involved, I don't know that I have the ability to learn. This brings me to my Tasty Tip of the Day: Beware of things wrapped in bacon. Read labels. Don't yell at the hostess when you're drunk on marguaritas and make a scene. Don't slap people on their birthdays, etc etc etc ... A Momentito of Surburban Shame It's embarrassing when people driving by your house slow down and ask you how much one of the scooters in your yard costs because they think you're having a yard sale when, in fact, that's just the way your yard looks. Happy Mother's Day! My 9 year-old son says, "Okay, I've got your mother's day present and there's just a minimum amount of gore." I'm proud of the vocabulary, but afraid of the gift. On Wearing Clothes My husband and I were trying to talk our son into wearing clothes more often -- he's plenty old enough and who wants to raise a nudist? My husband says, "You want to know the upside of clothes? It's ... mystery!" I lean over and whisper, "I thought it was pockets." April 2009 Easter Quotage "And the grown men have once again taken over the egg toss." After the Easter Egg Hunt Quotage "We'll be mowing jellybeans all summer." Passive Potty Training "Hey, we ran out of diapers. You want to sit on the potty?" Red Sox Fan? Or Just Dig Obsessed Babies? Otis being trained to be an obsessed baby Red Sox fan: Click here! Otis on game day, Papi-centric: Click here! Otis giving advice to Yankees' Management (some elementary knowledge of Spanish required): Click here! * * * April Fools? My husband pointed out a bumper sticker to me yesterday that said 'I love my wife." I said, "That's perverted." He said, "You know it was a gift ... from his wife." "And she's the one who affixed it." "Or maybe he's one of those people who believes in love..." "Or bumper stickers." It was silent for a moment. "He loves his wife," I said. "I guess everybody's got a fetish these days." February 2009 February in Florida -- and It's Cold! We're doing the best we can in terms of outerwear. Today the two-year-old's ensemble consisted of -- pajama bottoms, a flannel button down, mismatched Robee-style shoes (one with a reindeer, one with a peace sign), a thick red-and-yellow-checked, velvet-trimmed kimono-style jacket bought for one of the older kids in Chinatown ages ago, and a striped fuzzy hat with two tassels. A crueler mother would post a photo. The Girl From Paraguay My husband tells me after dinner that our 12-year-old said the strangest thing in the car. He said, "Mommy and I talked about what I want to be when I grow up. It's all settled." "Really? What?" he asked. "I'm going to be from Paraguay." "That's what you want to be when you grow up? You and Mommy decided?" "Yep." This makes perfect sense to me, of course. Earlier that day, we were outside together watching the baby while my 12-year-old was spinning a very long piece of PVC piping -- cheap toy. I asked him how the new girl in his class from Paraguay was doing. He said, "She's from Hungary." I said, "That's what I meant." He said, with real admiration, "She's doing great!" He seemed really impressed with the girl from Hungary whom I call the girl from Paraguay. And so I said, "You know if you put your mind to it and study really hard, you could be from Paraguay one day." He looked at me. "You mean if I studied really hard how to fake birth certificates?" I grabbed him and gave him a big hug and whispered to him, "This is America, son. If you put your mind to it, you can be anything you want to be!" And then we both looked at each other earnestly, and he said, "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot that you believe in me." I explained all of this to my husband, and he said, "Ah, of course. Got it. Perfect sense." He paused. "Was it a beautiful moment?" "It was, and I think he has real promise." "Me, too." January 2009 Great Blog by a Brilliant and Brave Writer Great Blog by a Brilliant and Brave Writer My dear friend -- novelist Sheila Curran -- was recently diagnosed with cancer. I learned a few things about her. When she's feeling awful she tends to throw fantastic dinner parties. It's almost an animal instinct -- with great food like papaya-mango mustard curry extravaganza and linen napkins. When she's post-op, she looks radiant. I don't know why or how -- she just does! She is blogging about the journey -- beautifully so: click here! WRITERS! Get a New Year's Resolution to ... WRITE! Get on the 30-Day Writer's Regimen. Click here! Writing Contest for Short Shorts, Poetry, and Essays. Just do it. Here is the link! The deadline is March 6th. On Being Wrong I was wrong 100% of the time when trying to intuit the genders of my four kids before they were born -- and that, my friends, is its own kind of right. December 2008 Holiday Cheer -- Holed Up in a Texas Hotel Room I've brought my kids on tour again. 'Tis the season. My writerly travels have landed us in the Houston suburbs for two weeks -- in a hotel room. Six of us. My saintly husband and our four kids (aged 13, 11, 8 and almost two). And my my they do love us here. We eat all the free lobby cookies, busted the phone, play nurf gun wars in the halls, leave our door propped open, read with our feet kicked up in the dining area, drink the coffee when that area is clearly closed down, take our calls in the halls (with all the noise, who can hear in the room?), give haircuts in the bathroom, use the lobby copier to print out kid art, pet the fake robotic deer in the lobby display, not to mention the baby screaming (often with joy over the robotic deer) and the live Christmas tree in our room (you gotta have some holiday cheer!) that's now shedding needles ... The staff has got to prefer frat boys. When we come up to the front desk (the kids stealing lollipops while I ask for kids eat free nights around town), the concierge asks, "So, how long are you all staying here again?" "A whole nother week!" one of my kids shouts. (For a look at a FANTASTIC ranch that we visited this past weekend -- alongside photos by brilliant photographer Karen Walrond -- click here! Texas has some pretty spots.) 'Tis Almost the Season Okay, I was reading my kids' gift lists -- which are typed and organized via iPod Touch by my oldest daughter, who generally orchestrates our lives. On my 11-year-old son's list, there is this gem: Lobster (not to eat) This means, I take it, that the boy wants a pet lobster in a tank. Is there another way to read this? I just imagine the lobster and me -- our conflicted relationship. How he'd sense the fact that I'd want to eat him. How I'd walk by and give him the old chin-up nod, the finger-point gesture of, "I got my eye on you." How he'd chin-up nod back and do his own claw-point of "NO, NO, I got MY eye on YOU." It would be a household tension that I just don't think we could handle. Something I Found Myself Saying Today: "Okay, who fabreezed himself instead of taking a shower?" Short Conversation I say to the sitter, "The baby ate dog food yesterday. Why would a baby do that?" My 13-year-old adds, "He also drank out of the dog's water bowl." "You did?" I ask the baby. "La!" the baby says, which means yes. "Bowl!" "He's really got the whole thing down," my daughter says. "He's consistent." The sitter, "It's cute, but it really has to stop." I look at the baby. "Do you hear that? It has to stop." "La!" the baby says. "You know it's not good to eat the dog's food, right?" my 13-year-old says. "La!" the baby says. "It's just not good for you," I say. "La!" "Are you going to do it again?" the sitter asks him. "La!" November 2008 Some Days Go Like This: One of your kids is playing the piano. "Hot Crossed Buns." You didn't know that they knew it. They play the first three notes. Hot, crossed buns. Then the second three notes. Hot, crossed buns. And then they play: Hot, crossed buns. And then: Hot, crossed buns. And in your head, you think, "One a-penny..." And they play: Hot, crossed buns. And in your head, you think, "Come on one a-penny!" And they play: Hot, crossed buns. You think: "ONE A-PENNY!" And they play: Hot, crossed buns. And in your head, you say, "It's okay. They only know that much. What's wrong with that? I can live in a dimension in which we only get to..." And they play: Hot, crossed buns. And this goes on. And on. Hot, crossed buns. Until, much later, you're crying on the phone to your husband, saying, "I don't know why I lost it ... I just started screaming ONE A-PENNY TWO A-PENNY! ONE A-PENNY! TWO A-PENNY! And ..." You lower your voice. "It felt so good." * * * Chinese Medicine My son, Finneas, is recovering from a long virus -- having missed 5 weeks of school. Since traditional medicine was just kind of shrugging at us, we decided to take him to a guru/acupuncturist/herbalist/specialist in Chinese medicine in town -- someone who usually takes months to get in to see. (I did the hysterical high-pitched mother thing and got booked in a week.) The doctor asked a lot of questions, even about his time in utero. She taped tiny beans in the dip of one ear to help with nausea. She gave us a few teas and something to spray under his tongue for the aches. (The spray was made in Oregon, which I was thankful for.) And finally she asked the real question. "Does he eat vegetables?" "He eats lettuce and green apples," my husband said. "And ketchup!" my son added, having counted it ever since he heard of the Reagan pronouncement of the ketchup vegetable from my youth. The doctor said, "He must eat three vegetables -- steamed -- every day." Of course, this was the wisdom we'd been seeking. Of course it also sounded pretty familiar. My 90-year-old Southern grandmother has been telling us this for years. My mother has been trying to bribe Finn to eat vegetable since he was little. (He once gagged on mashed potatoes that she'd offered him a dollar to swallow. Guilt-ridden for the gagging, she paid him off anyway.) We wrote a monstrous check and sadly escorted our pathetic selves home. Finn has since gagged on carrots. He's learned to withstand broccoli. He drinks Fruit Fusion with vegetables in it. He's sticking with his apples and occasional lettuce. Tonight, he will move onto asparagus. But as a mother in the new millenium, I just figured I'd be saying something different than: Go eat your vegetables. On Why I Haven't Written I warned you that there would be times when I wouldn't write much for this blog. It's my job to create something from nothing. As a writer, you have a blank page and then you add smudges of ink. And, in the end, there's a world filled with people and their entire emotional freight where before ... there was nothing. And sometimes in a country, there's hope where before there was no hope. I have been standing in awe, quietly. Joe The Plumber Our plumber is actually named Joe. (We have him on speed dial -- our rickety house has pipes made of tinfoil.) Get more Bridget. Go to The Archives! (Catchy name, huh?) Or go for more archives at: The Other Archives! (We're just full of 'em!) Copyright Bridget Asher 2008 |
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