OPERATION AGGRAVATION

This is what The Girl's agenda looked like on Friday:

• 6 am - wake up early (WTF? I usually sleep til 7:30! oh well!) and watch PBS while Daddy tries to snooze on the couch with me
• 7 - wake Mama up again, this time using the patented Cock-a-doodle-do (CADD) Method; Daddy goes back to bed
• 7:15 - annoy Mama by peeing in the shower (with Mama is in the shower too)
• 7:45 - wake Daddy up again using the CADD Method
• 8 - Cuddle up on couch wrapped in towels and comforter to watch more TV
• 8:30 - start snoring on the couch when Mama tries to feed me breakfast
• 9 - wake slowly and grudgingly as Mama tries to put tights and leotard on for tap class
• 9:30 - Wolf down a pb&j on the way to Starbucks (sheesh! Mama HAS to have a chai) then decide I need to pee just as we are getting back into the car
• 9:45 - tap my little heart out
• 11 - begin full frontal assault on Mama's nerves while at Costco by trying to touch everything and refusing to stay seated in cart (despite bribe of gum)
• 11:45 - back at home completely undress in order to go potty; get body wedged in toilet, butt in the water; drop tiara in toilet as I am helped out of predicament by Mama; gleefully climb into the bathtub for second bath of the day
• 12-12:45 pm - ignore hearty lunch, ignore new chalk for blackboard and continue to annoy Mama during her computer time
• 12:50 - ask to draw with chalk on front porch but actually run away to neighbor's house
• 12:52 - grudgingly return home when nosy neighbor thinks I shouldn't be outside alone
• 12:53 - Mama is mortified! Hahahahahahaha!
• 1:30 - wear Mama down so she agrees to take me swimming with friend
• 2-3 - as I get into the pool, say "The water is frickin' warm!" in front of friend and parent of friend; get out and pee on the grass behind planter at the pool (cuz I can't just pee in the pool like the rest of the frickin' kids); jump back in; swim; swim; swim; unknowingly splash Mama a lot; continue splashing after Mama points it out and asks me to stop; swim really well; jump in to Mama more
• 3-3:30 - get out, get dressed, have snacks, head for home
• 3:45 - look at fish store before going to Von's; writhe on floor after viewing all fish and anemones, dirtying pants a little
• 4 - continue Operation Aggravation in the brief 5-minute trip to Von's by first laying in the basket of the cart, then repeatedly squirming, completely dirtying my THIRD outfit of the day in the process.
• 4:30-5 - blah blah OpAg still going strong; play in backyard; chase cats around the yard; plead several times to be liberated from toy-filled backyard to unsafe & unmonitored front yard; say please; find only muddy spot in yard and squish it between toes; wipe most off outside, but attempt to "wash" feet in toilet; make mess; yell for help from mom; enjoy third bath (not counting swimming pool); eat apple & juice in the tub!
• 5:30 - Mama said I can't get out of bathtub until Daddy is home.
• 5:32 - Get out of bathtub without telling Mama. Oops, Dad's not home yet. Play in room with blocks and other fun stuff completely naked and wet because Mama says she's too crabby to deal with me.
• 6 - Daddy's home! Greet him as long lost hero.
• 6:02 - Begin Operation Aggravation on Daddy.
• 6:10 - Walk with parents to dinner up the street; dawdle; lose one fuchsia croc in middle of crosswalk as 10 cars wait; get indignant; drive Daddy over the edge while Mama walks ahead acting as if she doesn't know us; cry
• 6:30 - eat; talk loud; try to escape under table (BTW did you know there is gum under there?); put shoes on table; put feet on table; attempt to lay on table
• 7-8 - back at home try to stay away from Mommy and play only with Daddy, per Daddy's stern directions; follow Mama from room to room asking for stuff and telling her stories
• 8:30 - attempt to draw out bedtime by asking to read one million books; agree to three books
• 8:45 - lights out; tell Mama I'm not tired and run to Daddy; eat yogurt
• 9 - plead for teeeeeeveeeeeeee; get put back in bed; continue to anger Mama by saying "I'm not tired" despite red, droopy eyes and multiple yawns
• 9:02 - Uh oh, Mama called Daddy in for backup. Grudgingly go to sleep with mean Daddy while mean Mama does laundry.
• 9:05 - dream of ways I can perfect the CAAD Method and continue OpAg on both parents. Look sweet while sleeping.

So to recap: three baths, innumerable outfits, a tiara in the toilet, a stuck kid in toilet, feet in toilet, swimming, tap dance, eating, playing, making me crazy. Today was a bad one. Naps must be worked back into the rotation. Maybe tomorrow will be better. On the bright side, no one died.

MY WISH FOR MY TOWN...

I wish there was a really good bakery in Ventura. I want good fluffy cupcakes. I want lots of muffins and a couple flaky croissants. I want sugar cookies that taste good. I want them iced with cute designs. I want Tuesday to be "coconut and cardamom frosting day." I am tired of going into a bakery and seeing pretty things that, when tasted, remind me of rancid paste from kindergarten. One fucking fluffy cupcake. Please, Ventura, please.

THE MOMTINI, THE MYTH & THE JUDGEMENT

Melissa Summers is one of my favorite bloggers because aside from being a witty writer and a mommy, she is sort of damaged. Like the rest of us. We all have our skeletons, Melissa just shares them with thousands of folks who read her blog, Suburban Bliss. Melissa was on the Today show on Friday discussing the "new" fad of cocktail playdates where mommies drink alcohol. (Side rant - WTF Today show??? Since when is this new? Have they never heard of Mother's Little Helper? At least it's only a drink or two and NOT AMPHETAMINES..."THEY WERE DOCTOR PRESCRIBED!!!!!" the 1969 housewife & mother of three screamed.) While I think Melissa did great, and loads of other mommy bloggers agree (and here too), it seems there is still a murmur of discontent. A current of judgement is bubbling up to the surface. Again, I say WTF? People. We are not drinking shots of Jack Daniels or Cuervo (or even Patron, but hey, that's a pretty good idea). When my mommy friends get together for a little soiree, we have *gasp* a couple mimosas or a glass of wine or even a TGIFriday's branded Long Island Iced Tea. At the park. With the kids. Apparently supervising them inadequately. And then we drive home. After an hour or two or three.

So, uptight America (and I'm gonna throw in Meredith Viera too because she was rather patronizing in the piece), LIGHTEN THE FUCK UP! It's a drink with friends while the kids are expending energy. How many parents will be sitting around watching the Super Bowl with a beer in hand? Are those parents not modeling good behavior for their kids? Geeez. Really. Lighten the fuck up, people. And if I have one more person tell me how they would just "never think of drinking in front of the kids," I will punch them right in the face. After I finish my wine of course.

Moms need to stick together. We need to tell Meredith Viera, that Dr. Lady and all the rest of uptight America that moms are on the job 24/7/365. My last day off? The day I got my colonoscopy. Woo hoo. Vacation. Moms need to decompress sometimes. We need a break. And when we don't get a break, a bottle of wine at playdate sure makes our lives seem a little less monotonous.

So in summary, just shut up about cocktails and stop judging. Let the moms have their little bit of whatever. And if you aren't a mom, for gods sake, call a friend who is and offer to babysit for her one evening. It could save the mommy from AA.

DELTA SUCKS

Can you believe a woman was recently kicked off a Delta Airlines flight for discreetly breastfeeding her child!? Here's an article on it and another follow-up piece. When will people learn that boobies are for more than selling beer? Sheesh.

AND ANOTHER THING

Things that piss me off: people who take their jobs too seriously. For example, the office manager at The Girl's pre-school.

I stopped by this afternoon with my book order (dude, Scholastic book club rocks) and was told the parent who coordinates it already picked up all the orders.

Me: Ummm, OK. If you call her, I will gladly drop it by her house.
Her: Well I've already told three other parents it was too late. And the Director won't like it that I'm making calls all day.
Me: But it's a $54 order and the school benefits from it (sad face, sad face).
Her: I normally don't make exceptions, but just this once...

She called the book club lady who (of course) said she would pick it up tomorrow morning. At the same time the director came out and said hi. She looked at the order form and check in my hand and said, "Score! I love it when we get big orders!" Despite my wanting to do the nya-nya-nya ass wiggle, I just turned and said thanks.

I know I am being a brat about it, but FUCK, did it really kill her to make the call? Lighten up, sister. GAH! Can you tell The Hubby is on another week-long trip?

I VOTED FOR THE GOVERN-MINTS

The Girl went with me to vote this afternoon. I told her I had to go decide who would run the government. She liked that idea. When the polling worker handed me the two GIANT ballots (both sides!), she gladly told him that I was "going to vote for the govern mints." Mmmmmm...govern mints keep my breath fresh!

For the sixth year in a row, I am dismayed at the fact that our polling place does not give out the lovely "I Voted" stickers. One of the workers had one on, so I remarked how pleased I was we would receive one as well. He looked at me sadly and said he voted at a different polling place, thus the coveted (by me) sticker was not to be. I know I'm not the only dork who likes those stickers. At least 10 blogs I saw today (get off my back, so I was looking at the NaBloPoMo randomizer, kill me already) had pictures of folks proudly wearing their "I Voted" sticker. I am not alone in my dorkiness.

JUST LET HER BE A KID - RANT

I am sick of everyone under the sun marketing to my kid. I am sick of hoochey-mama fashions for little girls. I am sick of McDonald's "sponsorship" ads on PBS. I am sick of anti-feminist crap everywhere. Feminism isn't radical. It's about equality. So please let my three-year-old be a kid for a little while longer.

I hate it when people call a little girl's male friend her "boyfriend." It may sound sweet, but at 3 or 4 or even 10, do they really need to be pushed into relationships (even pretend ones)? I have The Girl call her friends her "buddy" or her friend, regardless of gender. It's not that tough people. I just want kids to be kids, without having to think of the drama of boyfriends and girlfriends that comes in middle school or earlier these days.

And the clothes! Attention clothing manufacturers and department store buyers: my child is not a whore. She is also not a teenager. We still shop in the toddler section, yet I see whore/teenage/hoochey clothes for 3-year-olds. What the fuck? Stop it. I like solid t-shirts and patterned pants for The Girl. Polo shirts are nice too. A sassy top with matching leggings, maybe. Please make more. Stop with the rhinestone-encrusted hussy wear. What's wrong with stripes or plaid?

Moving right along to TV: The Girl watches TV. I usually let her watch programs that I have Tivo'd for her, including Sesame Street and Curious George on PBS, Charlie & Lola on the Disney Channel, as well as Lazy Town and Wonder Pets on Nick Jr. I always start the programs by forwarding through the commercials or "sponsorship" messages. She doesn't need to see Ronald jump around with a bunch of kids or see how wonderful some homebuilder is because they promote reading. Of course, she doesn't need to see TV either, but I need a break, so she gets it. I don't always hear the end of the show so she'll watch the commercials. When she sees the flying Barbie crap or Floam or Kidz Bop4, she sits entranced. Ugh. There is a dog food commercial that features puppies. She can recite every word. Double ugh. She's three for goodness sake and she already knows brands and logos. I hate marketing. And I worked in the field for 15+ years!

I was reading Sweetney 's post about the horrid Bratz DVD and then jumped to an article about how Hasbro wanted to produce dolls based on the Pussycat Dolls singing group. I was thrilled to find out it was a coalition of professionals, advocacy groups and parents who thwarted Hasbro's attempt to sexualize our kids' childhood - Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood. Go to their site, read up, sign up and help stop this horrible trend. Or at least make sure the next time you see something that you think is objectionable, speak up - write about it on your blog, complain to your friends/neighbors, or send an email to the manufacturer.

It doesn't have to be like this. I just want The Girl to be a little girl for as long as possible. Is that too much to ask?