October 20, 2005

at least they didn’t say I was sexy

During our daily GO OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW playtime (when the wrestling and jumping off the furniture start to get, well, dangerous), the boys were playing Superheros. Charlie was Batman, Henry was Robin, and I, apparently, was Hawk Girl.

But for the longest time, I thought they were saying HOT Girl, and I was a little baffled. And a little disturbed.

Because, you know, normally only Wade calls me that. And usually not in front of the boys.

Hot Girl. Oh, yeah, I need a drink.

October 19, 2005

just because something is produced by Duke University does NOT mean it will be helpful

A woman I know casually from the Starbucks loaned Charlie a potty video this morning. As soon as she gave it to him, he started asking to watch it, so when we came home from the grocery with $135.00 worth of frozen food to unload, I popped it in the VCR. WITHOUT PREVIEWING IT. I mean, it’s a potty video, it’s not like anyone is going to be making out with Allison Janney or anything, right? Wrong.

No, Allison Janney is not in this video; instead, it consists of a whole troup of clowns singing unbearably irritating potty songs with lyrics like this (sung to the tune of On Top of Old Smoky): ‘On top of your po-tty/You’re sitting to poop . . . ‘ Ugh. (Oh, there is also the ‘You’re a Super Duper Pooper’ song–god, I wish this site had an audio link.)

But! That is NOT the worst part. In this video, the potty learner is encouraged to help wash out his or her training pants after an accident. Okay, first of all WHO STILL USES TRAINING PANTS? How many of you even know what those are? (They’re the extra-thick underwear that kids used to wear back in the days before disposable diapers and pull-ups. My mom bought some for Henry, but she could only find them in an 18-24 month size, which explains why my generation were all toiled trained by age two.) But forget that the producers of this video appear to be living in the 1950s–let’s get back to this idea that your child should help wash up the soiled underwear. ARE THEY KIDDING ME???

Charlie is having terrific success with the peeing part of using the potty; we’ve not had a pee accident or a wet diaper in over a week. But not so much with the poop, where we are 0 for, um, like three million. I’m not crazy about cleaning up the poopy underpants, but whatever; it’s my job and I have an elaborate system for the clean up, involving diaper wipes for the boy, Chlorox wipes for every thing else, and the occasional tossing of unredeemable Spiderman underpants in the trash can. At NO POINT in this process is Charlie encouraged to TOUCH the poopy underwear; part of the protocol is my insane repetition of ‘Keep your hands away from your BOTTOM! Keep your HANDS away from your bottom! Keep your hands AWAY from your bottom!’ You get the idea.

So now he’s seen this video twice (hey, I had a lot of groceries to put away) and I am terrified that he’s going to ask to help after the next accident. But have him wash his undies out HIMSELF? In what demented universe is that a good idea? Oh, sure, I have him put his clothes in the laundry hamper, and clear his (plastic) plate after a meal, and pick up his own toys, but WASH OUT THE POOPY UNDERWEAR? I’m all about fostering independence, but I’m also all about containing anything that counts as hazmat. I think that video is going to disappear during nap time.

I may smack my Starbucks acquaintance the next time I see her.

Edited to add: Seriously, people, am I the ONLY one who thinks this is a bad idea? Have any of you tried this? Has it worked? What HAS worked?

I think I need some therapy.

October 18, 2005

this post includes the short list of West Wing cast members I would NOT make out with

In no particular order, here are the West Wing cast members I would NOT make out with. For whatever it’s worth.

Martin Sheen

Jimmy Smits

Stockard Channing

Joshua Malina

And now I am all done talking about making out. Thank you.

October 17, 2005

if I had to choose, I’d take making out with Richard Schiff over this any day

Here at Friday Playdate, we like to take the occasional break from our busy schedule of shoe shopping, Starbucks playdates, and mashing with Bradley Whitford to think about Serious Things. This weekend was one of those moments.

On Saturday, my mother and I took part in the Race for the Cure (in our case it was the Moderately-Paced Stroll for the Cure). My mom has done this in Albuquerque for some years now; this was the third year I walked. In the past, I’ve teamed up with my friend Caroline, whose mother is a breast cancer survivor, but this year Caroline is pregnant so she wimped on me, and I suckered my mom into coming over. We had a great time; the weather was lovely, and we finished before a whole slew of other people, which made us feel like we weren’t too too out of shape, and of course we felt good about supporting the Komen Foundation.

Amd Henry scored a great t-shirt!

October 16, 2005

it’s either too little sleep or too much West Wing

Last night I dreamt that I was in college and I went to an outdoor movie, where I sat next to this very familiar cute-in-a-smart-nerdy-way guy that I had a crush on and we started talking and then we started making out. But I was embarassed to be making out in a public place, so we went to a cocktail party instead, which made perfect sense as he was wearing a suit and a tie and I was in a black skirt and sweater. But since we really wanted to be making out and not making small talk, we left the cocktail party, and I couldn’t find my car and I was walking down the street wearing high heels and dragging a box of Luv’s diapers and it started to rain. But I was really happy about the cute nerdy guy, even though he had disappeared.

Then he pulled up in his car; he had gone home and changed into a dry t-shirt and shorts and he offered to drive me back to my car, which was parked right outside the cocktail party. And he asked when my sister-in-law was getting into town and I told him that she was already here but that I wouldn’t see her because they were all leaving for vacation and I wasn’t going with them. And then we made out some more and he said I was cute and I wondered if I should tell him that I HATE it when people say I’m cute. But that seemed like a bad idea right then, when he was kissing me.

And then I realized that the nerdy guy was Bradley Whitford (who I really DO think is cute in a smart nerdy guy kind of way), and I started to wonder if I should tell him that I knew he was Misfit Hausfrau’s ex-husband, and how I even knew that in the first place. And then I decided I probably shouldn’t say anything because he would ask how I knew Hausfrau and I would have to admit that I had a blog and he might not want to make out with me any more.

And that was the end of the dream.

October 14, 2005

he can’t count, but he CAN play chess

I loaded everyone in the car this morning, dropped Henry at school, and then headed for Starbucks before I slipped into a complete coma from lack of coffee. We ran into my friend Christa and her daughter; the adults sat at one table talking about books while the kids played chess. Seriously.

No, not really, but they DID play nicely at another table. It was awesome. How was YOUR Friday?