Kids are mean

Of course, we all know this, but when it's your kid at the receiving end, it sucks.

Sophie goes to preschool 4 mornings a week and loves it. But there are 2 little girls there who are excluding her. Her teacher pulled me aside and let me know a.) that it was happening and b.) that she was dealing with it and c.) that Sophie seemed entirely undisturbed by it (naturally, because she lives on another, much happier, planet).

I found it hard to believe that at the age of 3 or 4, girls were already being mean...until I witnessed it myself. During circle time (yes, circle time) I watched as the two little girls made faces, moved away from and told Sophie to stop touching them. I also watched as their mothers did and said NOTHING. Whenever I see Sophie behaving badly, I put the major kabosh on it, but these two women did absolutely nothing.

What's wrong with them? Interestingly, they're not snobs. They're schlubby, unfashionable hippies. Are they just retarded?

And what's wrong with me that I'm so upset by this? I seriously fantasized about being mean to a 4-year-old girl. She's 4. I'm 37. It's a little pathetic.

kc loves censorship

KC made me take down a really good post—complete with photo—because he was worried about offending a certain insurance agent (let's just call him, "La Grande Tete").

Very unamerican of him.

Agitated

I'm so agitated and I don't know why. 7 months after Sophie was born I was diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder. (All those years I thought everyone was counting the steps between their parking space and the entrance to Target and then feeling out of sorts when the number turned out to be odd.)I tried a medley of drugs until I found my anti-depressant of choice, Lexapro.

But now it seems that it's not working. And as anyone who has ever suffered from any of these conditions knows, once you're in the shitter, it's very hard to get yourself to the doctor.

So I remain agitated.

Fur

Look at my daughter. Have you ever seen such a sweet little Snow White? I want to eat her.

What you can't see in this picture is her back. If you did see it, you'd see that it is covered in black hair. Seriously. I promise you that you've never seen anything like it. I can most accurately describe it anecdotally:

I took her to the park to play with my friend's daughter. She peed in her pants, and when I was changing her, the back of her shirt rode up. My friend's little girl pointed and said, "Hey Mommy, she has fur!"

I mentioned it to her previous pediatrician and expressed concern. First, I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong with her--hormones or whatever. Then I wanted to know if it would fall out on its own. And finally, I wanted to know if he had any thoughts on hair removal in preschoolers. Here's what he said, "You're of meditteranean descent and she shares your genes. It's what makes her unique."

I almost punched him in his penis. First of all, I'm not of "meditteranean descent". I'm of Jewish girl from LA decsent, and my great grandparents were from Russia. Also, I'm not particularly hairy. But most importantly, back hair is not what makes my child special, you retarded douche.

I actually love her back hair. She was covered in hair when she was born and I thought it was cute in a way only a mother can. But I know for a fact that if we do nothing about it, it will be a source of torture for her. She already gets teased by older kids. Thankfully, she's too oblivious to notice, but that'll end soon.

When she's 13 and demands it, we'll get it lasered off, but what to do between now and then? I worry.

When babies poop

Ava is a very, very good baby. Other than the first 6 weeks of her life, when she had untreated reflux and screamed nonstop, she has been a dream. Good sleeper, all smiles, extraordinarily cute, BUT...she has a poop issue.

Just after she was born, I was changing her diaper (with Caroline, thank God) and I lifted her little leg and the poop started flowing. She was like a miniature human soft serve machine. Every time I lifted her leg, more poop. It took two of us to keep it from escaping the changing table and creating a poop lava flow on to the floor. Two weeks later, at home, KC was changing her diaper and she shot poop across the room--hitting him enroute and showering our bedroom drapes (which we then referred to as the diahrrea drapes).

Since then she regularly has epic blowouts. We've developed a ranking system to decribe them to one another: 90 degrees mean it shot up the back and out of the diaper, 180 means out the front and back, and 360 is, of course, around the world.

I ask you, doesn't it seem amazing that a person who weighs not much more than a bag of flour and can't sit up by herself has the abdominal power to shoot liquid poop 6 feet across the room? I'm sure there's a biological explanation, but it still seems impossible.

Barbie and the Diamond Castle (aka: Not a post about Barak Obama)

Obama? Yer mama!

Actually, like Colin Powell, I cried. I'm glad and I think he'll do a good job. That's that.

In other news, Sophie is obsessed with Barbie and the Diamond Castle. She's singing the words to the theme song outside our office door as I write...

"If I could wish for one thing, it'd be the smile that you bring..."

This is one of those "all things" movies. The development team sat down and said, "What are all of things that little girls like and how can we fit them into one movie?" The answer? Singing, guitar-playing best friends, a princess, twin brothers, a puppy named Sparkles and, yes, a diamond castle.

It's a turd, much like the turd I found on the carpet last week. (When I asked Sophie about the turd, she told me not to worry because she'd gotten it out of her pants herself.)

I know that everyone says it goes too fast and that there will come a time when I miss their baby and preschooler days, but hear me now, I will not miss turds on my carpet. I will also not miss Barbie and the Diamond Castle.

How to not lose weight fast

I've formulated a 5-step plan to a svelte-er me.  Here it is:

Instructions:

Do each of the following steps for 2 weeks. Start with step 1, then add step 2, and so on.

The Steps:

1. Drink 8 glasses of water or more each day.
   
2. Eat 3 servings of fruit each day.
   
3. Eat 3 servings of green veggies each day.
   
4. Eat lean protein at 2-3 meals each day.
   
5. Exercise for at least 30 minutes at least 3 times per week.
   

My thinking is that I've failed miserably with anything that requires me to:

1. remove foods from my diet
   
2. restrict foods in my diet
   
3. eat only certain foods
   
4. eat prepackaged foods
   
5. eat foods at certain times of the day
   

So I will focus on adding goodness. And that goodness will live in harmony with my quarter pounders with cheese.

2 weeks. 2 years. What's the difference?

I posted to my blog 4 times and then a 2 year lapse.  That's officially pathetic. 

Here's what has happened since then:

My daughter, Sohpie, became 3 and a half.

I had another baby, Ava, who is 5 months old.

I got fatter.

I am really fat this time.  I've achieved lard ass/fup status.  It's because I'm busy.  I'm stressed.  I love to cook and eat out.  It's not a good combo.  

I have this thought at least 300,000 times a day (and I'm sure there are millions of women having the exact same thought), "Why is it that I can be a successful mother, wife and business woman, but I can't manage to drop a few dress sizes?" No really?  Why?

I want pharmaceuticals.  When my mother had her kids, my grandfather, a doctor, prescribed speed and she lost all the weight.  I'm not joking.  I want drugs. I won't take them forever, just long enough to lose 40 lbs.  And I don't want Alli.  I prefer drugs of the non-anal-leakage variety.