Princess Power

My mom recently sent a big box of hand me down books for the kids.

Included in the loot was a Disney Princess pop up book.

In theory, it was intended for my daughter. But she's only 3 months old and didn't exactly protest when my son claimed it. (He'll be three next week.)

He absolutely loves it.

I've read the book about a hundred times in the past two weeks. He's memorized all the princess names and talks about it nonstop.

I don't particularly care if my son wants to read about princess. (Or play with dolls, tea sets or any other traditional girl toys.)

But I was kind of curious how the princess phase was going to play out.

I think I got my answer today.

He just spent 45 minutes flipping through the pages of the pop up book intently kissing each and every princess on the lips.

He only stopped long enough to tell me that Jasmine is the prettiest one.

I'm thinking the princess book is just his preschool equivalent of a Victoria's Secret Catalogue.

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Cheap Entertainment

I think I have a frenemy!

There are back handed compliments-
"You house looks nice today. Of course my house takes longer to
clean since it's soooo much bigger."

She pretends to offer advice, but it's utterly unhelpful-
"After your second baby your ass will never return to the same size" or "With a girl your hips will spread way more than with a boy".

(These were both told to me multiple times with a sincere look of concern during my last pregnancy.)

And of course, no frenemy relationship is complete without plain old gossip.

Ten years ago, I would have been pissed.

But life is too short to waste the energy.

As long as I keep her ammunition limited, I think the whole situation is best viewed as entertainment.

Our kids get along really well and at least playgroup won't be boring.

PS-My template died suddenly. I'm trying out this new look. What do you think?

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Combat Barbie

My favorite women are always a bit of a contradiction.

My best friend was a cheer leader in high school and has a deep, passionate love affair with fashion. She is also a talented nuclear engineer.

Another favorite lady of mine is a brilliant MIT educated mechanical engineer I used to work with. In her spare time, she earned a black belt and made a name for herself in power lifting.

So I was a bit amused when I saw this headline - 'Combat Barbie' is both beauty & soldier

The reigning Miss England is Lance Cpl. Hodge of the British Army.

Apparently, she's a pretty good solder. She just looks damn good doing it.

I just love a girl who keeps the stereotypes on their toes.

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Don't Judge By The Cover

I've always felt a bit like a sheep in wolves' clothing.

I look very girl next door.

Forgettable.

Maybe cute, but not sexy.

People usually assume I'm sweet and maybe a little naive.

I attract over sharing like a magnet. I also get a bewildering amount of unsolicited advice.

My first real boss actually patted me on the head once.

It used to really bother me. (Especially the head patting. That was just awkward.)

But I've come to realize that there is great power in being underestimated.

In the right situation, I'm totally not above abusing it.

After all, I'm not nearly as innocent as I look.

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Excuse Me, Your Insecurities Are Showing

My mother in law recently bought an outfit for my daughter.

It's size 18 months and includes little leggings.

After her last visit, my mother in law voiced her concern that the outfit might not fit my daughter because she had such chubby legs.

Multiple times.

And I freely admit, my daughter has impressive thigh rolls.

She's also three months old.

A perfectly health, normal size three month old.

I think this is my first true taste of the difference between raising a boy and a girl.

I have a son who will be three in a few weeks. Nobody has ever mentioned his fat thighs and his rolls were even more massive at peak baby chubbiness.

Honestly, I'm not sure how to protect her from this stuff. But I will certainly do my best.

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Blog 2.0

Not so very long ago, in a suburb just like this one a woman started a blog.

She was lonely, longing for a little company.

In her desperation to get people to read and comment on her blog she told everybody she knew about it.

Everyone.

Even her mother.

With every post I...hmm...she started worrying about offending people or sending her relatives to an early grave.

The topics became limited. The opinions were stilted.

Blogging just wasn't nearly as fun anymore.

Despite the fact the it grew to over a hundred followers, the bland blog was slowly dying from boredom.

It was time for a new blog.

One my freaking mother will never know about.

One where I can write what I want without over thinking it.

One that I hope will be more fun for everybody involved.

So please, comment and join in on the conversation.

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