When Coffee Was Just Coffee & Exercise Was Just Exercise

So, I'm out for my morning run when...no wait, that's some other mom. Let's start over. So, I drop my daughter off at her volleyball match and sweetly call out, "I'll be in there in a minute!" Then, it's the mad dash for coffee. I race over to the closest coffee joint to get my morning fix. The line is nearly out the door - at least fifteen people in front of me. I am not deterred. I slide in behind two ladies who obviously ran into each other in line after not having seen each other for some time. The conversation that ensued was (in my ever so humble WTM opinion) of mythic proportion. I'll try to do it justice here. First, I have to lay out the scene. Seven-thirty a.m. on a freakin' Saturday. Assorted people in an upscale coffee joint, many of the ones in line shaking uncontrollably from the caffeine withdrawal. Are you following me so far? Many dressed in exercise clothes. Like they hopped right out of their spinning class and into their Volvo Wagons and sped over to the coffee place (please, God, kill me now...). The two ladies in front of me, however, appeared to be...how to put it delicately...more granola, let's just say. Down to earth. Ah, but were they wolves (can you say...Muffia?) in sheep's clothing! How naive I was! And I quote... Thing 1: "So, what have you been up to?" Thing 2: "Oh, you know, the same. Pilates. Yoga. Just keeping busy." Thing 1: "Yeah, me, too. Don't you just love Pilates? It makes me feel so ALIVE!" (Here, I nearly have to leave the line...) Thing 2: "Oh, I SO know what you mean! How about swimming? Are you still doing that?" Thing 1: "Well, swimming is good, I guess, you know, cardiovascularly and all. But it just doesn't work on your CORE like Yoga, you know? I just love how Yoga really gets your CORE. (Here, she doubles over somewhat, while pressing into her stomach for emphasis.) Thing 2: " Sure, sure..." Coffee Person: "May I help you?" Thing 1: Visibly flustered... "Oh! Oh! Gosh! Let's see... (keep in mind, it's been like ten minutes by now...)." Looking at the menu and suddenly seeming to find exactly what she was looking for... "Oh! Yes! I'd like a Grande Triple Soy Latte, one-half inch of foam...150 degrees... (Here it comes. Are you ready? Brace yourself!) Not Too Hot! My name's Janet." Coffee Person: (Without batting an eye) Sure. The convo between the two women resumes at full speed, but I'm still reeling from the order. Coffee Person: Triple Soy Latte, half an inch of foam, 150 degrees, not too hot, for Janet. Thing 1: (Tapping the cup on the counter and then inspecting the contents...) Oh, I'm sorry, could you add some more soy? It's a little low. Coffee Person: (With just the slighest hint of malice in her voice) Sure. And ma'am, what can we get for you? WTM: "I'd like a triple sow cow with a rum raisin chaser, please," I hear myself saying. Coffee Person: (now blinking) I'm sorry. What did you say? (OK - like I'm the weird one, here?) WTM: Oh! Sorry. A large latte, please. Whatever temperature you'd like. Does anyone remember the days when coffee was just coffee and exercise was just exercise? Gotta' run. I gotta' see if I can, umm, find my CORE! And like the Queen of WT says, if you can't find something nice to say, just come sit by me! Maybe we can locate our CORE's together!

Miss Minnesota Search Leads to...a NEW DISCOVERY

So my 7 year old wants to be MISS MINNESOTA for Halloween. Why? No freakin' idea. We are not from Minnesota nor do we have a large family from the great state. Since I am a WTM, I stopped questioning the "WHY" of such decisions long ago and started out in search of her MISS MINNESOTA costume for Halloween. Have any of you ever tried to find an evening gown for a 48 pound, 7 year old girl? Well, now I can say that I HAVE tried to find such an clothing item and while trying to shop in "brick and mortar" stores, LET ME TELL YOU THE LOOKS I HAVE GOTTEN. Faster than you can say...Jon Bene', the sales clerks are tag-teaming me in the store----one trying to get me O-U-T of their store while the other one attempts to "hot-line" me to Social Services. So I went searching online, in an attempt NOT to have child services coming to my door, wondering why I want an evening gown type of get up for a size 6x. WTM's don't even "go there" about the Halloween costume stores-----there is not a "Miss America" type of costume at any of them in my area. Anyway----in my attempts to fulfill my sweety-pea's desire to be Miss Minnesota WHILE not SOCIAL SERVICES coming to question me-----I turn to the Internet. It is on the Internet that I discover, something unknown to me until now....Pageant wear for children. Okay, call me a Bee-och but would one of you guys please tell me what is up with the whole "dress your 6 year old like a hooker" deal with the child and child/teen beauty contests? Clue me in if this is something that is okay or let me know what you think. My first reaction (being kind of bitchy) is to totally MAKE FUN of it all. However, I am awaiting my o so loyal and smart WTM readers to fill me in-----is this beauty contest for kid thing as cheesy as it looks or am I missing something? Readers? Remember...If you can't say something nice....Come over and sit with me.

Ding Dong, The Train Track's Gone & Is That a Biff?

Tacky Princess reporting for duty. You heard it here first. The child whose head was spinning around this time last week? Well, she’s officially "train track-less". She has perfectly straight, gleaming teeth, and the sassy smile to go with them (not to mention sassy attititude to accompany said smile…). And no, that's not her real mouth to left. Do you think I'm that naive? That I'd expose my own blood to the Muffia that way? Not a chance, sister. Now it’s on to full-time retainer wearing. I’m not sure she was quite prepared for that one. The ortho, with his permanently affixed smile – - I’m oh so confident it’s there even when he sleeps - - gave her the rundown of new instructions, which include NO GUM. I thought my precious little 14 year old was going to faint. She seriously thought he was kidding. It’s going to be like full-time Lent at our house. We take away her gum as punishment, and it’s one of those harder on us than on her things, you know? It would be like a WT mom without her morning 50-gallon drum of coffee to get her going. Only the gum-chewing starts as soon as K can get a piece in her mouth after school. The end of the summer and full-time chewing privileges is bad enough, what with the mourning period and all. She's already grouchy, and it hasn't even been 24 hours yet. Four months of NO GUM? I don’t know…this is disturbing, to say the least. And then, the man with the plastic smile went on to say that if she forgot she had her retainers in and chewed gum by mistake anyway (does he think she's a dolt, or what?), she could always just put them in the freezer and peel the gum off later. EEEEOOOH! How can you say that with that plastic grin? That’s just wrong!!!!! I’m thinking he must be the male form of Muffia. What might that be? A Biff? Please do weigh in on this most important WT MOM matter. I’ll take my rugged, misses-the-toilet-now-and-then hulk of a hubby any day over a Biff. But that’s another story for another day now, isn’t it? :)

OMG! How Could I Do That?

So, year after year, October is the month from HELL at our house! I love my daughters, don't get me wrong. But having their birthdays one week apart during the busy back-to-school season is a huge ordeal every year. They both have a slew of activities on an ongoing basis (ok, my bad, I know…) - - - and then, the dreaded birthdays! And, worse, the dreaded birthday parties! So, this year, my eleven year old thought she was making it easy on me. She chose a murder mystery party. All of the materials were available online. You just paid and downloaded. Sounds simple, right? Not so fast. Then, you need props, decorations, costumes, meals for the little monsters, and the list goes on. So, the day before the party, I went to a carnival supply store for party provisions. Thinking I had all the time in the world, I strolled along, contemplating each possible purchase. A hundred seventeen dollars to the perky lady in the red apron, and I headed to Costco for the food. Two hundred dollars and 892 calories later, and I was out the door. Damn, those samples are lethal. I pulled into the school parking lot ten minutes late, knowing that my darling little cherubs would recognize that I'd been slaving away for "the good of the party". But I arrived to the surly and insistent stare of my almost-14-year-old. "So, what happened? Did they cancel?" she asked crossly. "What do you mean?" I replied. Her head spun around a couple of times. "My ortho appointment? 10 am?" she demanded. I nearly ran over the plaid girls crossing the parking lot. Panicked, I pulled over to an illegal spot and started hyperventilating. No time like the present to revisit all those samples I'd had. Seeing my daughter's face, I knew that she'd already processed that I had totally spaced the appointment for her to get her braces off. There was no denying it. I was so screwed. I had forgotten! OMG! How could I do that? If you have a child with braces, you might have an idea what a momentous day this was to have been for her. But no, I BLEW IT OFF! I had no excuse - except, of course, that I had spent the whole day planning her sister's birthday party. Not to mention, scarfing down copious samples of pasta pockets, cheesecake, quesadillas, tortilla soup, pizza, Five Alive and Scope. No Brownie points there, believe me. And her 14th birthday was two days later. So, not only did she not get her braces off that day, she didn't have them off for her own birthday, either. I'm going to hell. WT Hell. With bells on. Cocktail hour starts early at our house in October. Who needs a clock, really? Make mine a double - and hold the ice. And the mixer. Just give me the damn bottle.

Desperate Housewives & Speeding on Your Kid's ADD Meds

Okay---I am the only one on the PLANET who did not follow DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES. But then I got the DVD as a birthday gift for one of my best friends----and then, in true WT fashion, since we have not been able to get together since her birthday----I cracked it open and started watching it. Okay----the character LYNETTE, the mom with the horrid children, is my favorite. My favorite episodes are the ones that Lynette takes her kids ADD medication, so that she "SPEEDS" through the day. It is a total true to life situation! But the episode that kind of "hurt" was the one when Lynette kind of crashed after her week of taking ADD meds and she almost went whacko on the kids. She told her pals she felt like a bad mom----how she couldn't handle it all---then they told HER how hard it was for them when their kids were little. Lynette was surprised and asked them "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" Ouch. She had to take SPEED to keep up with the perfection syndrome. Sick but probably not that far off. That is our mission ladies. Stamping out the idea that you gotta be perfect.

Baptismal Candle & Why My Daughter Will Be In Therapy

Okay WTM, forgot to tell you about the latest thing I did to ensure that my 7 year old will be in therapy in later life. So, we are Catholic, that much I have told you. This year is First Communion year and basically the entire year of Second Grade is a total fluff as they prepare them for First Communion. One of the first events to prepare the children is a ceremony that renews the child's baptism. Okay, fine. EXCEPT for the fact that this event involves the child using their baptismal candle as a part of the ceremony. What I have NOT shared with you WTM's is the fact that my youngest daughter, Katherine, has the spirit of my MOTHER in her. My mom died when Katie was a toddler but seriously, she lives on in her. I think it is my mother's way of tormenting me from beyond. This is going somewhere, I promise. Okay, so MY MOM was kind of a June Cleaverish-type of woman and had to have everything PERFECT at all times. It was her generation but it was also HER. I was, of course, her worst nightmare as she could barely get me to groom until I was 12 or 13. Anyway-----my daughter Katie, who is one of the best things to ever happen to me, has some of these traits. My husband and I can only attribute her perfection streak to my mom, as it has not been passed down from either of us. So....naturally I forget that she has to have the candle for school on Monday. Naturally, I remember at 9pm on Sunday night, when KATIE reminds me. My husband is OOT (as always) and so I can't leave the kids to run to the 24 hour grocery store. So I get up early, drag the kids out of bed early the next AM------then I make them go to the 24 hour grocery store with me so we can get a white candle that will resemble the baptismal candle. I call one of my WTM friends, who tells me that I should also put some kind of a ribbon on the candle, as some of the candles have these. We buy the damn candle and red ribbon, the only kind I can find at the grocery store. My 11 year old then informs my 7 year old that this is wrong color, causing all kinds of HELL. I explain in a very calm voice that is the only kind of ribbon we can get at the 24 hour grocery store so let's be happy. Then, in the parking lot of the school, I light the candle, burning it down a bit so that it does not look like it was purchased just 15 minutes before school. There is one minute until school starts and Katie actually makes it to school on time (which was kind of a miracle). Do not know why I am "sharing" this with you but just wanted to let you know one more reason why Katie will be in therapy in her 20's.

This is REAL...this is NOT a test...

As a WTM, I have been extremely lucky to have some mentors that I also count as friends. I have a crazed friend that has grown children and is now a grandmother---I "globbed" on to her in the 80's when I worked with her and she has been unable to get away from me, even after all these years. Anyway, when I told my friend about the WTM blog, she sent me this article. This is an actual magazine article from a magazine in the 1950's. This is a real article, boys and girls. Was it GREAT to be a male in the 50's or what? Enjoy and let us all thank our lucky stars we are in the year 2005. Click on the title to this blog entry and you will be taken to the article. But let me just give you a small preview: You may have more than a dozen important things to tell him...let him talk first, his topics of conversation are more important than yours. EEEEEK!

Am I Muffia if I BAKE or GROOM?

I had two of my very best and very NON-MUFFIA friends ask me this week if they were "muffia". So I thought I better clarify the term a bit. Question One: If I Am Well-Groomed and Stylish, Does That Make Me A MUFFY? NO! Being well-groomed or wearing nicer clothes certainly does not make you a member of the dark side. One of my best friends in whole world is extremely fashionable and always looks pretty fabulous. However, I have known the woman since second grade and she was ALWAYS like this. It's hard wired into her DNA. Being dressed nice does not make you a muffy. What makes you a member of the "muffia" is if you are NOT naturally a snappy dresser but you do so to IMPRESS the other MOMS. Or if the only reason you groom is because you want to be friends with a certain group of people. Grooming does not make you EVIL. Judging other moms by the way they look or dress is the evil part. My pal that was born a snappy dresser would walk through fire for me or really ANYONE that needed it. She would just do it looking great. Question Two: If I Like to Bake or Cook, Am I A MUFFY? No Virginia. Baking or Cooking does not make you a MUFFY. Using Baking or Cooking as a way to impress other moms or to make other women feel bad is what makes you a member of the MUFFIA. One of my best friends in the world is a WONDERFUL cook. She can whip up a plate of cookies that taste like heaven in a blink of an eye. She loves to do. She always has loved to do. SHE IS NOT CHANGING WHO SHE IS TO IMPRESS ANYONE. I cannot boil water but she thinks I can do a host of other stuff that is awesome. She does not judge people by their ability to whip up a meal or make a cake. You are a muffy if you judge others by their ability to bake or cook. You are a muffy if you look down on moms that order take-out more than cook at home. You are a muffy if you talk about how superior you are by cooking/baking at home. Bottom Line: Being a "muffia" has far less to do with the outside things like how you look or how you cook. It has to do with the inside stuff like being MEAN to other mothers. Being a muffy is being mean and not being REAL. It's about keeping up a totally bogus and stupid standard of PERFECTION that is unrealistic. It is about not supporting your fellow MOM and being a snob. Hope I have made it a little more clear. Please note that I did not think up the name "muffia" but that it comes from the excellent book, "I Don't Know How She Does It" by Allison Pearson. I keep mentioning this because I just want to give credit where it is due.