boy oh boy. yesterday, it was 70 degrees out. today, there is a 14 degree wind chill. poor little BC. her class trip to the zoo was cancelled today because frozen preschoolers are just not fun. (defrosting them is hell.) so i went downtown only to turn tail and return. but not after spending a little bit of time with BC and her little buddies.

now the thing that amazes me ceaselessly is how people tell me what an independent little girl she is. how she rules the roost in the room. how people sometimes forget they are talking to a 3-year-old because she is so verbal and mature. (the maturity thing is clearly not from me, i assure you.) of course, when *i* show up at her school, i am faced with my little blonde-headed klingon. she clings to my leg, she hangs on my words, she doesn't want me out of her sight. as much as i adore such undivided adoration (and G-d knows it will probably be the only time in my adult life that i receive it), it is a bit unnerving. i love to come to school and read books with her friends and even let her pals pretend i am their patient while they stick pretend needles into my arm and wrap tourniquets just a *wee* bit too tightly on my arm. but i always feel like i am somehow disrupting her routine when i am there and that this must be a terribly selfish thing i am doing.

fortunately, one of her teachers came up to me after noticing this. she told me that all kids are like this. when mom or dad show up, the kid instantly changes. so apparently, i am not doing anything bad, disruptive, or even wrong.

yay. i can stop flagellating myself now.

i noticed that the rainforest cafe has outlets at both disneyland and disneyworld. now, imagine that…

ok. if i agree to go to the Rainforest Cafe again when i am not well-rested, then someone please, please smack me in the head. yesterday, i, or some evil twin who temporarily possessed my body, somehow agreed to take BC there after she agreed to get her picture taken by a real photographer. (and no, i won't post them here because i don't want to have some fuckwit grab the photo and do horrible things with it. if you know me and want to see the pictures, then i will very gladly share upon your request once i take the time to digitize them!) granted, it takes an act of G-d to get a three-year-old to actually listen to a photographer when there are oodles of things clamoring for her attention; but i was getting a bit annoyed when my formerly well-behaved child turned into mini-greta garbo. the photographer was no big help, either. he took forever to actually take a picture, which is a big no-no when your clients have the attention span of a hummingbird. since the photos would not be done for an hour, we went to said restaurant.

we were on the early side of the day, i might add. we were way ahead of the lunchtime crowd. however, that meant we were there just in time for some uniform-clad kiddies from some local school who apparently were having a field trip to the restaurant. now, tell me if i am off-base here, but this is a RESTAURANT. not a museum. not a zoo. not even a remotely educational establishment. sure, they have a wonderful fish tank, and they can spout off a few forgettable bits of info about the perilous state of the rainforest. but this is a BUSINESS. completely with anamatronic animals who roar and growl on a timer. its fun, i guess, but this is not the right place to be taking kids for a SCHOOL FIELD TRIP. it is like taking them to disney, for christ's sake. disney is not educational. sure, there are moments when you smile because there is a little message, such as “it's a small world.” but i have great contempt for the mighty mouse and corporation. i have always had some issues with the great homogenization of america, and establishments like disney and even the rainforest cafe add to it. people get brainwahed that these are EXPERIENCES. going to a museum is an experience. wandering in a park is an EXPERIENCE. going to rainforest cafe is a MEAL. an expensive, and not very tasty one at that. the tortilla chips that came with BC's mac and cheese (yeah, how's that for a side dish!) literally were coated with salt. and not kosher salt like on hot pretzels, either. yecch. i was not aware that french fries cost extra. the waiter merely asked me whether i wanted chips or fries with my nature burger. i wanted neither, but i picked fries since i figured my daughter might want a taste. i got to pay extra for that privilege, which was a bit irritating.

anyway, it took nearly a half hour for the workers there to get the field trippers settled. we just stood and waited. BC would not leave, so i had very little choice — and i did promise, so i couldn't just pull parental perogative and exit. argh. fortunately, they sat us under an iguana. the last time we went to rainforest cafe, we could not stay because the jaguar, which was over our heads, growled so loudly that BC was scared to death. i suppose that it is a positive that she was not scared any more. in fact, she continually peppered the waiter with questions about the names of every animal she encountered there. “uh, yeah,” the waiter said, “uh, the toucan's name is, uh, tookie. and uh, the butterfly's name is bill.”) it was actually the highlight of the meal, as i felt like i was entitled to enjoy the little subversive nature of my child as she annoyed the waiter. that's my girl!

anyway, i imagine i will be back here sometime. BC loved it. perhaps when her dad or her grandparents come with me, i will go back. but not while it is only cranky, bad-ass me.

btw, the pictures of her turned out terrific. in spite of a bad photographer, my daughter shines 🙂

what a gloomy day it is here. i suppose we need the rain, but it is so dark. at last i have the sunny bunny, aka BC, here with me today. she is busy stripping more of her Barbies down to their altogethers. i bought her a Barbie boat at a rummage sale this weekend, and she has piled all of her naked Barbies AND her Fisher Price Little People in the boat. like an old commercial we used to watch up in NJ when i was little would say, “Henny Hennman says, 'Everybody in the POOL!'” it looks like a wild Fire Island weekend is taking place between the boat and the Little People house. naked Barbies, Ken, and all these Little People (who look a bit like dwarves in comparison to the amazon Barbies), all hanging about. all we need are little pink drinks with umbrellas in them and we are all set. woowee!

who said this was a gloomy day 🙂

i can't believe that andrea yates was formally sentenced to life in prison for drowning her 5 children, “…a verdict that jury members said was easy to reach.” what IS it with texan justice? i cannot imagine this verdict resulting anywhere on the east or west coasts. maybe some of my friends from texas (who are extremely reasonable and intelligent people in my book) can explain to me what happened here. i mean, yes, she drowned her children. but this woman is clearly mentally ill. doesn't anyone on the jury have any idea what it is like to be mentally ill? do they understand that yates was continually in some sort of treatment until the system completely failed her? i don't know which is more delusional – andrea yates or the justice system in texas. to put this woman behind bars for the next 40 years is doing no one any good. except, perhaps, randy yates.

this woman clearly had a huge burden placed on her by her controlling, bible-thumping husband, randy. from what i have read, it doesn't seem to me that he helped her out much. i cannot imagine what it must be like to homeschool and care for 5 children. i cannot imagine what it is like to ride through the country in a winnebago, following G-d's alleged will. but i can imagine what it is like to look after one child, and believe me, it is no cakewalk. to carry the responsibility for 5 children on your own is something i would never wish on any individual. i wonder if her husband sees any change in his lifestyle now with his wife and children gone, other than there is more money in his pocket and he is in demand on the talk-show circuit. something is so very, very wrong here.

my BS got me a trial subscription to Rosie Magazine. it isn't exactly my cup of tea, but it was a lovely gesture, as BS knows i really like Rosie O'Donnell. nevertheless, there is an article in this month's mag that really, really made me mad. here's an excerpt from the article.

basically, there is a wonderful couple who fosters kids with HIV/AIDS. they are involved in the PTA, they are involved in the kids' lives. they are nurses, so they especially are wonderfully sensitive to the kids' health issues. they would like to adopt the kids, but they can't. this couple is gay. they can't because one of the kids is from florida; and florida, ya see, is the only state that prohibits gay people, both couples and individuals, from adopting. (gays ARE allowed to foster in florida, though. weird, huh?) Mississippi and Utah, bar same-sex couples from adopting. (now there's a shock: one state deeply-mired in the bible belt, and the other, orrin hatch-ville.) this all came about thanks to orange-juice-brained anita bryant and her hateful legislative rampage in the 1970's.

i have friends who are gay; i have friends who are heterosexual. we all know that life is short. and we all know that it is hard to find love in the world, regardless of your sexual orientation. there are good people, there are flawed people, and there are people who should not be allowed to breed or care for children. some of them are gay, some of them are straight. why kick out some of the good and mildly flawed people based on sexual orientation? it makes my blood boil.

and then there's the old “kids need role models from both sexes” argument. sure, kids do. but no one goes after single parents about this. in short, every parent has the responsibility to show their kids how to be a decent human being. being a decent human being is not a gender specific trait, despite the days i believe it to be true 😉

so. if you are as pissed off as i am (and hopefully you are!), maybe you can make your voice heard. check out lethimstay.org. and find out how. maybe it is time to write to our dear old friend, Jeb Bush.

there. i'll get off my soapbox now and do some dishes.

so this morning, my three-year-old daughter gets mad at me and yells, “oh jesus!” i yell many exciting and colorful additions to the english (and other) languages when i am mad, but i do not usually yell “oh jesus.” i don't know if it is a jewish thing, i don't know if i just find other words more accurately express my utter pissed-offedness, but i just don't exclaim those sorts of things too much. growing up, i never yelled many bad words until i left home. we just didn't say things worse than “hell,” “damn,” or the biggy, “shit.”

you just had to see BS and my faces when she exclaimed utterances to that good old guy. we, of course, promptly informed her that there were better ways to express her ire. (yeah, listen to mommy when she drives at rush hour.) of course, this reminded me a bit of the new show “The Osbournes.” i don't know if anyone else out there has watched it. it is pretty awful, but like a car crash, i can't seem to turn my head away from it. it's ozzie as ozzy! his kooky wife (and manager), sharon! his teenaged son jack (who is also a record company talent scout in his free time)! his wacky, multicolored-coiffed daughter kelly! their nanny! (one daughter apparently decided not to participate. smart gal.)

now here are the parenting questions i have for the osbournes.

1) why do teenaged kids need a nanny?

2) why is every word out of everyone's mouth “fuck”? i just imagine the kids as toddlers, approaching other little ones: “fuck you, billy, it's MY truck!”

3) why hasn't the ASPCA cracked down on them for having so many animals? it seems nearly cruel to me; and clearly, if the animals constantly poop and pee all over the house, someone is not paying enough attention to them when they need it. sure, i know, animals make mistakes, animals mark their territory, etc. but when you are as self-involved as the Osbourne family, how on earth can you remember to walk all of your dogs? don't even talk about feeding them!

and finally,

4) why can't ozzy figure out his remote? some iron man. hmmph.

'80's! i'm livin' in the '80s!

with many apologies to akadashi-san, AKA mr. bean, i have found a station i just lovelovelove! (although i love your station, too, karly-warly.) i can't believe they are playing Gene Loves Jezebel right now! OMG!!! AIIEE! i am suddenly transported back to Club Schmel, AKA the Melody Bar deep in the bowels of New Brunswick, NJ (Motto: It's a Shithole…but it's OUR Shithole.) Matty Pinfield, who took his bald head and made it as an MTV DJ in the '90s, spun records here on the weekends before he ever glimpsed fame (and fortune? who knows – the half-life of an MTV DJ is about the same as that of a dragonfly). i used to pester him to play The Smiths every saturday night, and we would spin around the room dancing to “bigmouth strikes again” and “hand in glove” while the neon picked up what little white we might have had on (please, even then, i only wore blackblackblack at night.)yep, jaaaaane, me, lynnard (and her ID du jour), glamourous miss jackie – all riding down suydam in jackie's ancient VW bug to that smelly old firetrap. we didn't much like the roxy across the street, but we loved fuzzy navels (everytime i see peach schnaps, i think of my beloved pal suzanne!) yep, karin and i liked to have guinness at the Whalin' Bitch (the Ale N Witch), but the mel was *the* place to see poseurs side by side with executives in town from Johnson and Johnson with the latest dregs that poured in from g-d-knows-what-sewer, with lots of bouncy college kids thrown in for good measure. the place on “That *80s Show” is so sanitary. it just doesn't compete with our old hangout – a place that was repainted, resculpted, and redecorated nearly weekly by basquiat-pretenders and anyone else who took a fancy to spray painting walls. big hair, big neon, big fun.

so, what's become of club schmel? what, indeed. they paved paradise, put up a “for sale” sign.

it's monday, and i still see a dumpster. of course, no one is working on the house today. of course not. i better shake my sillies out and and calm my bad self down. i am beginning to act like dagwood bumstead.

anyway, last night, i had the pleasure of discussing the merits of arachnids…at 2:30 a.m. see, yesterday morning, BC had a spider some sit down beside her…well, not exactly. a little spider nearly came down on her head, and, in short, little girl was not amused. (who would be?) i cleared away the offensive spider and explained how spiders are usually our friends and eat the nasty bugs and are more scared of us than we are of them. in truth, i always left the bug squashing to BS — but that was pre-BC. now that she has come along, those hepped-up maternal instincts kick in, the ones that say “must-protect-baby-girl!” (in a william shatner-like voice, of course.)

so here i was in the middle of the night, turning on the light, showing her that the spiders were not coming down on her head. i even broke out a spray bottle and sprayed “anti-spider-serum” on them (water, and hey, imagine that, it is the same stuff as the anti-crocodile spray we use 😉 finally, at about 3 a.m., BC thought the better of it and conked out.

the last time i had this sort of conversation was in high school. a friend of mine (who shall stay nameless) had dropped acid, or so he claimed. my experience with that sort of thing remains limited, as i have never done the stuff but have been around people who were happily high and examining the deep meaning of bugs bunny. truly. but suddenly, here i was, little straight-A high school girl with friend who somehow was in ok-enough-shape to ring me up (in the days before redial) in the middle of the night. and why? to share that purple spiders were coming off the ceiling and attacking him. and that i had to help him. and somehow, i ended up convincing him that the spiders were friendly and that if he only closed his eyes, he would be ok. what possessed me to have that sort of conversation? i'll never know.

but i was reminded of it when my daughter informed me that her friend, Sammy Spider, was a friendly spider and that she would be ok. where did this come from? beats me. but i am glad that she suddenly befriended a friendly spider. maybe i will have a half-chance of a full-night's sleep.

http://members.aol.com/couplandesque/quizzes/johnquiz.htm

not surprisingly, i ended up as rob, the guy from High Fidelity. what a freakin' shock 😉