Because you're Mine, I walk the Line

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line


As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line

You've got a way to keep me on your side
You give me cause for love that I can't hide
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide
Because you're mine, I walk the line


I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgsOhJRLP40

Pictures were taken at Skyline Drive. Walk the Line by Johnny Cash.

The Story - Sundays in my City

Torn

Fallen

Stepped on

Picked

Home

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

Are you smarter than a 4-year-old?- (mixed up edition)

Three facts about Dimples:

Fact 1- She makes up words and/or uses random words at random times. She fills in the blanks of sentences with any word that may or may not be part of an existing dictionary.

When the lamp refused to turn on, she declared it was frustrated. And then asked what frustrated means.

One of her favorite words these days is dizzy. She uses it for anything, in any sentence, to describe basically any kind of emotion. Its a skill, really, to be able to do that.

And then there are other words that you won't find in the English language that we know of at least. Words like, kishikaala or sayviyaa or other words that only she can pronounce.

Fact 2- She loves wearing dresses. So much so, that she refuses to wear any other form of clothing. I have to threaten her that all her pants, shirts and shorts will go to the poor and needy if she does not want them, for her to sometimes consider my pleas. Yeah yeah, I'm a bad mom.

Fact 3- She loves Chuck E Cheese's. Me, not so much. And I mean not just the place, but the actual mouse. Yes, my 4-year old gets all jittery and weak in the knees when Chuck E walks by, and I am not even kidding. I wish I was.

*********************
So the other day when Hubby announced, 'Let's go to Chuck E Cheese's!' Dimples was literally doing jumping jacks.

And as if she wasn't high enough on that news, I picked out a dress for her to wear. She giggled, she laughed, she glowed when she smiled.

Thanks Mama for picking a dress for me, I wanted to wear a dress. I like this dress. Oh its so pretty, Mama. I always want to wear a dress, right? I think my head is a little . . . mixed up.

I could not keep myself from laughing out loud. And since I have explained to Dimples that I don't laugh at her, but because I think she's cute, she laughed with me. (Yes, it wasn't easy to laugh at her cute remarks before I explained this to her. Now she knows. Now we laugh)

Dimples: I'm serious. My head is all mixed up. My mind is all silly.

Me: Its not silly, cutie. Its smart and cute.

Dimples: No its silly sometimes. And mixed up. Why do you yell at me?

Me: (Whoa! Where did this come from?) When did I yell at you?

Dimples: Sometimes.

Me: Oh. Yeah. . . sometimes. I shouldn't.

Dimples: Is your head mixed up too?

Well if it wasn't, it is now.

For more Are you smarter than a 4-year-old? check out the Loser edition.

Sundays in my City - A day at the Park

These pictures were taken a month ago, on a beautiful day at a beautiful park. Sorry, I have been cheating for the past few weeks, but I will shoot some new pictures for next Sunday hopefully.

Going through these reminded me of how much fun summer was. It also made me realize that I am obsessed with pictures of water.





For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

Chatty Dry-Cleaners in 'What the Hell??!!'-Wednesdays

There are too many times in one's life when one feels the need to say, 'What the hell??!!'

I will keep it sugar-coated the rest of the week, but on Wednesdays I will let it all out. You know how you feel bloated after eating beans, or something milk-based if you are lactose intolerant, and you HAVE to fart to feel good. And it feels sooo good once you do. On Wednesdays, dear readers, I will fart. Or burp. Whatever helps.

I go to these dry-cleaners that are nameless. They are the $1.75 Dry-cleaners. That's all they have up on their window and on their receipts. They do a decent job dry-cleaning, so I don't really care that they don't have a name. They are located pretty close to where we live, and I have yet to find any other dry-cleaners in my area, charging just $1.75 per item of clothing (certain restrictions apply). So I go there pretty often.

On one of the registers at the nameless Dry-cleaners, though, is a guy. This guy likes to chat. I don't. When I am running errands, the girls are either with me pulling at my leg, asking/crying/demanding to buy them candy from the candy machine that the nameless dry-cleaners have mindlessly installed at the entrance. Or, I have left the girls at home with Hubby, who keeps calling every minute to ask me when I will be coming home and telling me how one or the other or both girls are crying for Mama.

I'm not in a chatty mood in either cases.

I want to do exactly what I went into that nameless place for. Drop off and pick up. Nothing more, nothing less.

That guy has other plans. Every. Freaking. Time.

On this particular day, I was dressed up to go somewhere, and we wanted to pick up the dry-cleaning on the way. Hubby and the girls waited in the car, while I went in.

Damn it, he's there even at this time.

I waited in line and prayed that I would end up at a register other than his.

The line moved.

Next.

Next.

Next.

Damn it! My turn to go. His register open.

I go and before I can tell him my phone number, he says my last name.

Yes, that's right.

I do go there practically every day, so I guess I should not worry about him recognizing me AND my name. And being able to put those two together. I shouldn't, right? I did freak out just a little bit, though.

I looked at the shirts, jackets, dresses, trousers wrapped up in plastic moving on that moving machine dry-cleaners have. I think its pretty cool. I wish I had one of those at home, to move things around.

Are you married?

Did he just ask me if I was married? Does he not see this rock I wear on my left hand? Or is he trying to tell me its too small for him to see? Well you want me to shove my finger in front of your face for you to see better, nameless dry-cleaner guy?!! I can shove a different finger too, that's right next to my ring finger, if you want. No, really you want me to do that??!

Yeah.

I waited for the moving machine to bring my Hubby's clothes. Can it move ANY slower? Jeez.

You look good.

I looked at him. I wanted to punch him right in the middle of his two eyes. Do I thank him, or do I tell him to F off? I should show him the finger now, right?

Thanks, is what I said.

Is that how you get dressed when you get married?

Can you SEE that I am trying here not to punch you? Can you SEE that I am in no mood to carry on this freaking conversation with you? Can you . . . wait a minute. WHAT?

I'm pretty sure I just looked at him with my mouth a little open, and a frown on my face.

Is that how you get dressed when you get married? Everyone does it differently.

Now I don't know where the hell he is from. I don't know where the hell he thinks I am from. But I did not look like I was going to my own wedding. I did look better than I do on most days. But I would look better than I do on most days even if I brushed my hair regularly. And take some time to take the crud out of my eyes. Okay that's an exaggeration. But I did not look like I was dressed for my own wedding. Already wearing my wedding band. And didn't he just ask me if I was married?

The moving machine stopped. It stopped, oh it stopped. I could jump in joy right then and there. He handed me the clothes. I snatched'em away. I wanted to get out of that nameless place.

Thanks, I said again. Because I'm a good person who does not punch people even when she wants to, that is why.

Best of luck with your wedding!

I ran out clutching on to my Hubby's dry-cleaned clothes, realizing he had not asked me if I was married in the first place. He had asked me if I was getting married. To which I had said, 'Yes'.

That cleared the confusion a bit. But still my perception of that creepy moron at that nameless Dry-cleaners remains the same.

And yesterday, he winked at me. I took my eyes off of the moving machine for a second to look at him, because I could feel him staring at me, and he winked at me.

What.The. Hell??!!

For more 'What the Hell??!!' - Wednesdays, check out:

http://mom-i-am.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-hell-wednesdays_28.html

and

http://mom-i-am.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-hell-wednesdays.html

10 not so tiny toes

I love Giggles but she has freakishly BIG feet.

Giggles is the bloggy name for my 18-month old daughter. She wears toddler size 8 shoes. To give you an idea of how freakishly big her feet are, let me tell you that my 4-year old Dimples has recently moved to size 10.

Don't get me wrong, I love Giggles. But she has BIG feet.

The morning after she was born, I remember the pediatrician coming into my room after doing my one-day-old baby's checkup in the nursery. After he told me that everything was fine with my newborn, he asked if I had any questions for him.

I asked, and I quote without any exaggeration: Are her feet too big?

Thank goodness the doctor understood that I was probably high on medication or tired from the labor and birth process, or simply not right in the head, and he did not laugh. At least not on my face.

Doctor: They are what they are, Miss ymK.

He did smile, though.

The other day Dimples asked me if she could paint Giggles' toes, and after a little convincing she made me say yes.

In a little while, Giggles came running, showing me her feet, saying 'Pity?' (Pretty)

I looked at her feet with 8 of her toes painted pink, 2 telling the tale of her squirming and making it impossible for Dimples to finish the task, and I said, 'Very pretty!'

Because when I think of the Top Ten Pretty Things in my Life, her big feet are right there close to the top.

They are pretty when she curls up her toes while she waits by the kitchen sink, as I fill up her sippy cup with water.

They are pretty when she spreads out her toes if she steps on something she considers dirty.

They are pretty when she tiptoes.


They are pretty when covered in sand.


They are pretty when covered in chalk.

They are pretty in her size 8 flip flops.


And they are pretty when she tries on other's flip flops.


And I tell her: With those pretty big feet, I mean big yet pretty feet, don't worry my dear, you are getting there.

Sundays in my City - Chicago

Chicago is not my city either, just like New York isn't. But I visit Chicago often as well.

During one of those visits, we visited Millennium Park.

The Cloud Gate was my favorite there.


Its mirror-like surface reflects Chicago skyline, which makes it a perfect place to take pictures of you with the skyline in the background.


You can even walk under it to take a picture of your own reflection, since it is shaped like a bean.


And this is what you you see if you look up standing under it.


We did get a bit carried away with the camera, which is nothing new. Happens to me all the time. Dimples, though, does not share my obsession, I mean passion for taking pictures. She got bored.

Dimples: This is embarrassing.

Me: What is?

Did she just declare at 4 years of age that her Mom embarrasses her? I am not yet ready for that. The kid was going to get a lecture.

Dimples: Sitting in a baby stroller. For a long time!

Well, if she had not been running around and complaining about getting tired, I would not have strapped her in her baby sister's stroller, would I?

I told her she should not let things embarrass her so easily. But she did have a point.

So we took her to another attraction at the park, The Crown Fountain.

She had a great time getting drenched in the water flowing out of strange people's mouths. Everyone has a different definition of embarrassing, it seems.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

'What the Hell??!!'-Wednesdays

There are too many times in one's life when one feels the need to say, 'What the hell??!!'

I will keep it sugar-coated the rest of the week, but on Wednesdays I will let it all out. You know how you feel bloated after eating beans, or something milk-based if you are lactose intolerant, and you HAVE to fart to feel good. And once you do, it feels sooo good. On Wednesdays, dear readers, I will fart. Or burp. Whatever helps.


Have you ever seen what you make your kids watch on TV? Some of it is CRAP. Yes it is.

Take for instance an episode of Dora the Explorer. Yes, that little girl that is never home, going around the world with no adult supervision, on random adventures.

Baby Jaguar, who is Dora's cousin Diego's friend, (since we cannot call him his pet, God that would be so wrong) is hanging from a branch of a tree, and is about to fall into some thorns or something prickly and scary. Two other friends of Dora's are in trouble too at the same time on different locations. So ofcourse Dora and Boots (Dora's friend monkey) try to decide for what seems like a good half hour, which friend to help first.

Baby Jaguar is the lucky one to be picked first, and off they go. Now you would expect they would hurry the hell up, since the poor jaguar baby is hanging for his dear life, calling for help. But first Dora has to find a short cut.

And who do we ask for help when we don't know which way to go?

The map!

Now the silly song plays for a good five minutes, while Baby Jag is dangling in air.

I'm the map, I'm map. Okay yes we know, can you hurry it up please. You stupid son-of-a ... map.

They find a short cut, and are on it. Finally they reach the tree, but do they save the freaking, hanging jaguar? No.

They have to play games even at this crucial point in Baby Jag's life. Freaking arrange the pictures in the right order game.

Which picture comes first? Take the ladder out of the backpack. Give the ladder to Baby Jaguar. Or Baby Jaguar giving us a hug?

Take the ladder out of the freaking backpack. Take. It. Out. TAKE IT OUT NOW.

By this time, I am sitting at the edge of the seat, biting my nails, cursing out loud. Finally Baby Jaguar is safe. If I were him, I would have eaten both Dora and Boots right after their charade of a saving mission was accomplished.

I mean, what the hell??!!

Then there are Max and Ruby. Max is the most annoying kid you would ever come across. No, really. If you think your kid is annoying, or that a kid at a certain playdate was annoying, you have not seen Max. He communicates in words rather than sentences, repeats the same word all day long, and does not listen to anything his sister tells him to do. Yes I said sister. Because I have never seen their parents. Never.

Ruby the big sister, who keep in mind still sells girl scout cookies, takes care of Max. She feeds him, takes him for playdates, cleans up the house, does all the gardening, even changes his jammies a hundred times to puts him to bed. Without ever yelling at him. She talks in that honey-drenched tone that makes you want to punch her in the face. She is better than a lot of us Moms. And that is what makes her annoying.

How is it not child labor, I fail to understand. I mean where the hell are their parents??!!

Dimples loves Max and Ruby, but after I noticed that she had adopted Max's one-word language, I told her she is not dealing with no silly Ruby here. If Max was my kid, that one-word lingo would not have stayed for long. That kid would have gotten his ass whooped. But thankfully, Dimples understood. And no ass whooping took place.

And what the hell is up with Tigger and Pooh? I think both sound like pedophiles. Eww.

Mommy's little princess

The first time I left Dimples at a daycare, she cried and screamed and held on to my leg as if never to let go. In the car, I sat and cried before driving away.

This happened for a few weeks. I cried every day.

But one day, she didn’t even notice that I left. I kept looking through the window at my baby busy playing with the toys, in the daycare lady’s arms.

That day, I cried the most.

With time, she grew up into a big girl and I grew used to her being one. Or so I thought.

Today a chilly morning woke me up to the end of summer. It was Dimples' first day of pre-K.

She went to her new classroom, shook hands with her new teacher and sat down at a little desk. I took a few pictures, gave her a few kisses (okay, more than a few) and left the room. As I waved to her from the doorway, she waved back.

And with a big smile, she whispered, 'I'll see you later.'

No screaming, no crying, no pulling at my leg - she would see me later.

But I did not cry today.

Maybe because here's what I made her wear to school. And she loved it. So maybe there is still some time before she turns completely into a big girl.

And that is a good, warm feeling.

Sundays in my City - New York

I don't live in New York, but sometimes I wish I did. It is close enough that we can drive up there and back the same day. We go there often.

I thought I would share some pictures I took during one of those visits.

The Red Ship
Standing in Line
Liberty

And while you are here, all you Sundays in my City contributors (and other bloggers), check out my Friday Find. I'm sure some of you would relate.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, go to Unknown Mami.

Friday Finds

Story of my life.
How many of you see yourself in that short-haired, naked stick-gal?

http://xkcd.com/77/

'What the Hell??!!' - Wednesdays

There are too many times in one's life when one feels the need to say, 'What the hell??!!'

These moments don't necessarily happen on Wednesdays, they can happen anytime, anywhere. But since there seems to be a popular trend in keeping the title of a category to rhyme OR sound similar to OR start with the same letter as that of the day its posted, (Foto Friday, Wordless Wednesdays, Sunday Shout-outs, etc.) I thought I would be doing the trendy thing, by writing about these 'What the Hell??!!' situations on Wednesdays.

So, I don't hold any particular grudge against the day Wednesday. It just happens to start with the letter W. Sucker.

I will keep it sugar-coated the rest of the week, but on Wednesdays I will let it all out. You know how you feel bloated after eating beans, or something milk-based if you are lactose intolerant, and you HAVE to fart to feel good. And once you do, it feels sooo good. On Wednesdays, dear readers, I will fart. Or burp. Whatever helps.

So, this past Monday as I am visiting some of your blogs, and my kids are happily watching some crap on TV, and I have the living room blinds and windows open to let the kids see the beautiful day outside (keep in mind, I had no intentions of actually taking them outside. So like a bad Mom I was just tempting them), I hear voices too close to my windows for my comfort. Two big guys discussed drilling, banging and making my afternoon a nightmare for that day. They used different words, but all we care about is what they meant.

I closed the windows, pulled down the blinds. I did not want some strangers looking into my living room, and complaining about me to the AAP about how much TV I let my kids watch.

I thought that would make bad things go away. But I was naive.

After I put my 18-month old, coughing, sneezing Giggles down for her afternoon nap in the girls' bedroom upstairs, and take 4-year old Dimples in my bedroom upstairs so she does not wake little sister up, I see shadows outside my bedroom blinds. What the hell??!! How am I supposed to put a kid to sleep with two big guys hovering outside my window? Has anyone met a 4-year old recently?

'Who are those guys, Mama?'

'What are they doing there?'

'How did they get there?'

'Did they use a ladder?'

'Can they see us?'

And the creepy thing is, they probably could.

So, there goes naptime for one kid. And as if that wasn't enough, they start drilling and banging and pulling off the walls for all I could tell by the noise. A sick kid sleeping in the next room, hello!! I mean, what the hell??!! Seriously.

After a few failed attempts of trying to get Dimples to forget about the HUGE guys playing rock-climbing (for all I knew, since I did NOT get any notice from the community management about any kind of drilling and banging needed on my windows) and to ignore the LOUD noise all that drilling and banging made, I gave up. And went and grabbed my phone. No not to call anyone.To make a video of the huge guys playing peekaboo with us through my blinds.

Yeah. Let them know how it feels to have one's privacy intruded. As one of them sorta, kinda peeped inside, and caught a glimpse of me aiming the phone at them, I could almost hear him say, 'What the hell??!!'

Maybe I will share the video clip on an upcoming 'What the Hell??!!'-Wednesday. Because right now I don't know what the hell is wrong with my phone's downloading capabilities.

Sundays in my City (Love birds)- revised

What should a couple do when they get a chance to spend time alone with each other, after months if not years? Clean thoughts needed here you dirty-minded people.

Why are they not able to spend alone time with each other more often, you ask? Good question, but I can confidently say that you don't have any kids, if you even thought of asking that. You haven't met MY kids, for sure.

Kids. Crying, screaming, whining, complaining, demanding kids. Possessive kids who pull on Mama's hair and push Papa away if they get a glimpse of the two of them sitting on one couch. Kids who yell,'Mine!' and cling to Mama's legs when Papa asks Mama to sit by him. Kids who keep turning Mama's face towards them with their tiny hands when she is trying to listen to something funny or important said by Papa. Kids who bang on their toys with all their might, and yell at the top of their lungs when they catch Mama having a conversation with Papa from across the living room. (Since Mama cannot sit on the same couch with Papa, remember?)

So, the best date for parents of such kids?


Para-sailing. You get to sit next to each other, and all you hear up there in the sky is each others' voice. And if you are lucky you might even see dolphins. We did.



Photos taken by the boat crew at Virginia Beach. And yes we did tip them.

For more Sundays in my City from around the world, visit Unknown Mami.

******************************************************
It was not scary. It was the most romantic date. Not scary and recommended for all couples who have kids.

There are Some Things Money Can't Buy- (Post-pregnancy Edition)

Some people are ungrateful, they just cannot help it. They always see the glass half-empty.

Or, maybe they are just hormonal, since they just had a baby a month ago. Who knows.

A Facebook friend's status stated:
Was so excited to fit back into my pre-pregnancy outfit, only to have my 4-year old spill grape juice on my jeans, and my 2-month old pee over my shirt.

I commented:
Detergent to wash away grape juice and pee stains: $10 (more or less)
In case stains don't go away, buying new pair of jeans and shirt: $50-100 (depending on where from)
Fitting back into your pre-pregnancy clothes: Priceless.

A Song (as we walk towards Target)

Walking towards Target, I lock the car, and give Dimples and Giggles my hands to hold.

Me: I have two little princesses (I croon)

Dimples: Holding your hands

Me: Holding my hands

Dimples: One has a doll in her hand

Me: One has french fries in her hand

Dimples: One is wearing a green dress

Me: One is wearing a pink one

Dimples: And another princess in the middle.
Her name is Mama

Two Hearts

She always argued about having two hearts. Hubby and I tried explaining to her that she has one, but she would not listen.

'I have two hearts,' she would always say.

And I finally asked Hubby to back off, thinking that maybe somehow she means she has a bigger heart, maybe that would mean she would grow up to be a very kind person, kinder than usual. After all, she has two hearts instead of just one that Mother Teresa had. I am a mother, and I tend to think good things about my kids. I'm a mother, I don't have to explain my reasoning. So stop snickering at me, please.

Today, she kept pulling down her shirt and laughing. It made me a little uncomfortable since I don't want my daughter growing up to be a flasher, you know. So, I asked her to stop. She giggled and kept going at it. I asked her why she was doing that. She said she wanted to look at them, pointing to her *gulp* nipples.

Now I am not even sure if they are called that on girls her age. And before writing this post, I tried doing a search for the right word as I didn't want to sound anatomically incorrect. But as I sat there with the vacant Google bar staring at me, waiting for me to put in a word, a phrase, a question, I did not know what to ask for without generating pictures or sites of X-rated nature. After a few failed attempts, (that DID generate the stuff I was afraid of, even though I was being cautious) I gave up, and hoped I was using the right term in terms of anatomy.

Anyway, so I asked her why she liked looking at them, and after the obvious first answer, 'because' she shared with me that they are funny. I asked her if she finds her nose funny, and she replied 'No!' in an offended tone.

'Then why do you find these funny? These are also a part of your body', I said.

'But what are they called?'

'Umm. . . that's your chest.'

'Yes, but this is my heart,' she pointed to one of them.

'No, baby. Your heart is inside your body.Remember we read that in the book?'

'No, its outside. See? One, two.'

This heart, Mother Teresa also had two of.

*Sigh*

Are you smarter than a 4-year-old?- (Loser edition)

She is going through a phase where she has to be in the front, when we are coming down the stairs, going up the stairs, walking towards the car, or anywhere. I hope its a phase that will pass.

So, as I was coming downstairs, she told me to stop and wait for her to catch up.

I stopped and waited.

She went ahead of me. I followed.

She reached the last step first, because well, she was in front of me.

'I win! You lose, Mama. But its okay to lose,' she declared.

I smiled, jumping on the opportunity to teach a thing or two about life,'Yes the important thing is that we try, and never give up. Its okay to lose sometimes.'

'Yes, but you lose. And its okay to lose.'

'And it makes me happy when you win,' I smiled radiating with motherly love.

'And it makes me happy when you lose,' she laughed deviously.

And as the little devil ran to me for a hug, I hugged her right back. So what if I had just been punk'd by a 4 year-old.

Black Eyed Peas make a song for my kid

Boom Boom Boom Gotta get-get!

Boom Boom Boom Gotta get-get!

Hubby and I were dancing (read shaking, moving, rocking but NOT dancing) to this song in the car, on our way to pick Dimples from her grandma's. Since I try not to listen to most songs with Dimples in the car, and since I tell myself that its okay to listen to them with Giggles as she doesn't understand the lyrics yet, I was savoring the moment.

I looked at Giggles sitting in her car seat, and shook my head and hands insisting her to dance with us. She gave me a strange look for a minute or two, saying with her eyes 'Are you right in the head?' and I thought its for obvious reasons, anyone who sees us dancing would look at us that way.

Then she finally gave in and joined us, and she is way better than us. I wonder where these girls are getting their dancing genes from, both Dimples and Giggles. Not from us, trust me.

But in the middle of the song, I started laughing uncontrollably. Hubby was curious to know why, and I have a feeling you are too. Let me explain.

I realized Giggles had not been astounded by our nerves to actually ask her to join in our pathetic dancing attempts, but at Black Eyed Peas for making a song for her!

Boom Boom is what she calls her milk- the milk she drinks, which is my milk-you get the point. Don't ask me why. I have no idea why. All I know, is that whenever she gets hungry, she comes to me, pulls on my shirt (down or up, whatever is convenient for her) and demands, 'Boom Boom'.

I remember telling my sister that its good that she doesn't say 'milk' when she is pulling my shirt in public, and she said, 'You think Boom Boom is any better?' She had a point.

She sees me changing, she goes 'Boom Boom.'

I bend down to pick something up, and she gets a glimpse of the source, and she goes, 'Boom Boom.'

The other day I went to Victoria's Secret. Just because. And found out they were giving away a $5 coupon just for trying on their new bra. Well ofcourse I picked one up, and headed right to the dressing rooms. And as I tried it on, you guessed it right.

Giggles kept singing 'Boom Boom Boom!'

So if you are ever at Victoria's Secret (or any similar store), and you hear a kid going 'Boom Boom', I must be in the dressing room next to yours.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cKnTLrDbcw

She dreamed a dream

She has recently started talking about her dreams.

Dimples: I dreamed a dream, Mama.

Me: What was it, baby?

Dimples: I dreamed that I was doing ballet at home.

Hubby: Really? What were you wearing?

Dimples: My ballet clothes. My ballet tutu, and my ballet shoes, and my ballet shirt, and my ballet backpack.

Hubby: Do you have a ballet backpack?

Me: No, she saw that in her dream.

Hubby: Oh, okay. So you had a backpack in your dream, but not in real life, right?

Dimples: Yes, but you know what? Life is but a dream! (giggles contagiously)

Maybe I should sign her up for the ballet classes again.

Petition to Pee in Peace. Please.

Category: Human Rights

Target: All those who won't let us pee in peace.

Background:

Four years. I have forgotten how it felt to pee without any interruptions. Four years. That is how old my daughter is.

This petition has been long overdue. Reading about a mom's good shower turning bad at badmommymoments confirmed that I am not alone. Reading the comments to her description of her plight (which was great as usual. Description, not plight) showed that she is not alone. Together, us moms can make a difference.

Sign the petition and spread the word. Tell your friends, family, co-workers on phone, email, twitter, facebook, whatever medium you choose. Its us against those tiny intruders of our Pee-time.

Petition:

Let us Pee in Peace.

Because you do not let us eat in peace. Or shower in peace. Or sleep in peace. Or shop, or cook, or drive in peace. Let us pee in peace. Please.

We, the Mamas/Moms/Mothers, want you to know that when you see the bathroom door closed, it means you can not come in. We want you to know that, this is not the time to show us your art, or to sing to us the new song you made up. We are not interested. Not at this time. We are peeing.

We know that you were part of our bodies once, and your kicks to our bladder sent us running to pee quite often, how can we forget. But once that cord was cut, you have your own body, we have our own. And we don't feel comfortable peeing while you watch. It is just not right.

And its difficult to keep pulling our shirts down in attempts to cover as much as possible, especially with your running commentary about the various sounds you hear while we pee and poop. And we don't want to know how many plops you heard. Its disgusting. And embarrassing.

It would be highly appreciated if you could go find something else to do while we pee. And keep your little sister (or brother) busy too. We would like to spend these few minutes not worrying about what she is eating (toilet paper?) and what she is falling into (bath tub?).

Yours sincerely,

The Undersigned

Clip art licensed from the Clip Art Gallery on DiscoverySchool.com

Mama in the bathroom sign made by me, though.

"I paint forms as I think them, not as I see them." Picasso.

Hello and welcome to the Art gallery of an upcoming artist, Miss Dimples. Playing with all abstract styles: cubism, neoplasticism and expressionism, here she presents some of her masterpieces. (Her Mama, being the lazy and forgetful mom that she is, had forgotten to send some of these masterpieces to the aunts and grandparents they were made for. This is her effort at redeeming herself. Mama's favorite: Carence.)

Art lessons are also available if payments are made in the form of candy.


Sun, Water, Sky by Dimples from early 2008.
Orange and Purple washable paint on paper.



Flower by Dimples from 2008
Pink and Orange washable paint on paper.







A bird suit by Dimples from 2009
Black washable non-toxic marker on paper.











House with a jelly fish by Dimples from 2009.
Green washable non-toxic marker on paper.











Rocket ship by Dimples from 2009.
Red, Green and Black washable markers on paper.


Carence by Dimples from 2009.
Non-washable black pen on paper.

Background:
What is this?
For the nose to play with.
But what is it? A carence.
What's a carence?
This is a carence. You go round and round, and put your nose here. (pointing at the dark spot which on further inspection turned out to be a slit in the paper. Perfect for a nose to fit in.)


Pretty Dinosaur by Dimples from early 2008.
Washable Orange paint on paper.








Angry Dinosaur by Dimples from early 2008
Washable Brown paint on paper.









Letters to Santa by Dimples from 2008, some time around Christmas.
Non-washable unidentified marker OR pen on green and yellow paper.






Pretty for Mama by Dimples from 2008
Non-toxic washable Blue, Red, Yellow, Green and Black paint.











"I paint forms as I think them, not as I see them."
Picasso.

For abstract art by other famous artists, and to see how Dimples and they share brilliance in abstract techniques, check out:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abstract_art

Take those art lessons, and you can be famous too. No admission without candy.