Today you are 1. The nurses christened you ChunkyMonkey when you were born, with your 9 pounds of cuteness and great skill in nursing. You are not really chunky, but solid and definitely a good eater. The monkey part, however, is apt. You remind me of Curious George.

You love to know what’s inside of everything and you want to touch it all yourself. You are the only child of mine to take an interest in the water in the toilet and to try to eat dirt. If there’s an open door, you want to go through it. If there’s something new to see, you want to see it up close.

And how your face lights up when something makes you happy. It’s worth it to let you crawl in the dirt to see you smile. You have the most amazing smile, kiddo. You are learning about language; right now you can give 5, wave and gesture up and down on command. Your favorite speech sound is “Da”, but it’s many inflections can indicate your father (Dada), what’s this (Da Da?) or anything else you are trying to tell us. When you’re unhappy, you moan (Daaaa,Daaaa,Daaaa) and then progress to full on screaming.

You are very sure of your wants and preferences, even if I don’t always understand them. You love fruit and fruit juice, pretzels and french fries. You love to try new foods, but you’ll yell if you want something that isn’t offered. You are wonderful at playing by yourself, but more than anything you want to do what Lovebug is doing. You have just recently begun to enjoy books, and you favorites are the “Touch and Feel” series.

You are my surprise baby in so many ways, little one. And I look forward to all the rest of the surprises you have in store for me as you grow. I love you more and more each day,

Mommy

PS If you could stop biting and pulling hair, I’d appreciate it. And maybe get over the tantrums. Just a thought. XOXO

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Specifically, leaves that have fallen. Onto the ground. All over people’s pristine lawns.

I like them there.

I especially like them there when the alternative is for some a**hole with a leafblower to spend an afternoon blowing them into the street. Where they pile up, only occasionally getting picked up by the town.

My parents’ town is the worst, which is odd considering that I think they pay the highest taxes in the county. Anyway, leaves are blown into the street, leaving precious lawns unlittered – but causing cars to slide on them after rains, blocking storm drains and just generally making driving kind of hazardous.

Though even if the huge piles of leaves were picked up regularly and/or didn’t cause driving hazards, I would still be against the whole leafblowing thing. Because seriously, is it really that bad to have leaves on the lawn?

I mean, people drive to the northeast just to look at the leaves while they’re on the trees, but once the leaves hit the ground they’re all of a sudden completely horrible?

I LIKE how they look on the lawn. It being fall and all, it seems rather appropriate. But scores of landscape guys and weekend warriors seems to disagree with me, as blowing them into the street seems to be some sort of county passtime. (And how come I have never, ever, seen a woman with a leafblower? I’ve seen them raking, but not one blowing leaves – and usually sticks, trash and toys – into kingdom come. Why?)

I suppose what really gets me is that after all the noise and air pollution to get rid of the leaves, they wind up blowing back into people’s yards from the piles in the street. So what’s the point?

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Last night was the “Family Fun” night at the kids’ preschool. Hot Guy had to work, so I decided that ChunkyMonkey should stay at home with my mom, 2 kids being enough for one tired woman to keep track of at a gathering filled with sugar and small children.

Of course Ironflower was drawn to the painting activity like moth to flame. . .which meant that I spent a lot of the evening cleaning blue paint off of her costume.

And Lovebug hated the noise. He ran into classmates, but they were all shy with each other (as opposed to how they’d been at the hay ride the day before) and overwhelmed by the crowd. So he pretty much wanted to leave from the moment we got there.

I spent most of my night dragging Lovebug around in search of Ironflower. Until the reptile show. Which my kids had enjoyed at a small play date last year, but this year it freaked Lovebug out. And Ironflower claimed not to like it, but I think what she didn’t like was the large number of kids between her and the animals. Meanwhile I stood with some other preschool moms, having nothing to say while I fretted over my children’s unhappiness.

Somehow I’m reminded of some of  last events I attended in school gyms – junior high dances. Before every dance, I’d have this image in my head of how it would go – the boy I liked would ask me to dance, I’d look impossibly cool while dancing, my friends would all tell me how great I looked – and it NEVER went that way.

These family events seem to go the same way for me. Before we go, I have this image in my head of the fun we’re going to have – the kids will laugh and smile, I will chat amiably with acquaintances, the kids will behave – and it never works that way. Lovebug hates something about the event and clings, they both grab food and drink like mannerless heathens, I have brief conversations that I’m too preoccupied to pay attention to and at the end,  Ironflower says it wasn’t good enough anyway.

I guess I’m just not destined to live up to the images in my head. Maybe I should stop trying.

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Hell, at this point, I’ll even take a conservative media elite. I’d just like the word “elite” to come back to the news.

Remember when news shows and newspapers were informative and the talking heads were kinda boring? Remember when they used fact checkers and didn’t just insult each other?

It’s a vague memory for me too, actually. But at least a few years ago I didn’t have to hear the Headline News anchor repeat what Clark in Louisiana thinks. And then beg me to send in my own comments.

Look, if I want to know what the “average” person is thinking I’m sure I can find out through the magical powers of the blogosophere. Or Facebook. Not that I’m sure WHY I care what some person I don’t know, whose credentials are not checked and could in fact be one really bored 13 year old boy.

But even if I was interested. . .does that mean it has to be on the NEWS?

Opinions are not news – that’s why they’re not on the front page of the newspaper. And while I understand that it may be challenging to air the news 24-7, do we really have to resort to sharing the texts of people bored in the drive-thru line at McDonald’s? There are lots of wars going on, you know. There’s this continent called Africa where people are actually being slaughtered. There’s a scary flu virus. There’s yet another “family values” congressman caught cheating. There’s a new season of Friday Night Lights, for God’s sake.

Good-bye CNN. . .now that you’ve lowered yourself to my standards, I don’t want you anymore.

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Deflowerer of a former governor’s daughter. Teenage father. Hunter.

That’s about all I know about Levi, despite having read several lengthy interviews with him. Oh, and he’s going to be appearing in Playgirl soon (did you know that magazine was still being published online? I didn’t). I really want to see that Playgirl. Because I think he’s hot.

Sure, he pretty much stands for everything I hate – fame for nothing, ignorance, Palin Republicans – and sure, he seems pretty dumb (I’ve  read the interviews, remember). And yes, I think he’s somewhere around half my age (which I find icky, even if most men don’t). But it doesn’t matter. I still want to see the Playgirl.

He’s not on my list because, well, it’s embarrassing. Plus, the list is not just about hot. It’s about like. And I do NOT like Levi Johnston. I just want to see him in his underwear.

Is that really weird? Do you have anyone you’re ashamed to find attractive?

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It’s the same damn thing.

Poise, the ability to walk in high heels, reading. . .those are all great skills to have. Reading’s obviously more important, but still. In our looks-obsessed society, the ability to wear lip gloss without it going all over your teeth can’t be denied. But why the rush?

Four year olds don’t need to look polished to do well at preschool.

And babies don’t need to be able to read. And, in fact, they aren’t actually reading. Sure, I saw them say the words on the cards, or gesture to indicate that they knew what the word was. But that’s not actually reading. They didn’t decode (aka “sound out”) the word and they sure as hell didn’t comprehend its meaning from the surrounding text.

I’ve taught lots of kids to read and I guarantee that none of them would have read for real any more quickly had they memorized the words for body parts as babies. If their parents had talked to them more, read them more stories and/or not let them spend all night watching horror movies, that might have helped. But this stupid program? Not so much.

A colleague once referred to me as “The Reading Bitch”, that’s how into teaching reading I was. I might have been a little militant. I might have distributed timelines and scopes and sequences and lesson plans to my elementary school teacher colleagues a little obsessively.

And yet my baby has no idea what letters even are. But I have gotten him to sit still long enough to finish listening to “Touch and Feel Farm”. I’m kinda proud of that. Because it’s age-appropriate.

I suppose in a world where first graders have cell phones and grandmothers attend Botox parties, age-appropriate isn’t a very popular concept. Sure, everyone clucks over the pageant kids, made up and hairsprayed like teenage prom queens, but they still have their own shows. And I’ve yet to hear anyone talk about, much less criticize, “Teach Your Baby To Read”.

The truth is, kids who memorize easily (or very early), often have a hard time reading more difficult text when they hit second or third grade. And forget about developing their thinking skills. Memorization does jack for those. But all those parents can now brag that their one year olds can read, which I guess is more imporant than age-appropriate or thinking.

Score another one for the assholes.

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I didn’t think I would be. I never yelled (okay, except for that one time, but that class totally deserved it and it’s just wrong that my principal happened to be giving a school board member a tour that day) as a teacher. I am much more likely to mutter obnoxious comments under my breath, or write them during meetings to the amusement of my colleagues.

But then my kids started to, you know, bite each other. And I discovered yelling was effective.

I realized recently that I may have been doing a little too much of it, as I’ve had to get really loud for them to notice. Though that may be because once unleashed, my yelling voice has also appeared in traffic and around customer service representatives. So I decided to quit yelling. No matter how naughty the kids were, no matter how frustrated I was, I would not yell.

Today was Day 1.

I awoke at  5am to hear the boys talking to each other. Not that ChunkyMonkey talks, but he sure makes noise. I tried to ignore them, because I’ve discovered that I can’t force them to sleep and that when I talk to them at 5am I am tempted to yell.

By 7am, I had discovered that Lovebug had clogged the toilet with too much toilet paper . . .and pooped on top of it.

At 7:45am, a huge, full, glass jar of salsa fell onto the tile floor of kitchen. While I tried to clean up, Lovebug and Ironflower got into a wrestling match and knocked ChunkyMonkey over.

At 9:05am, a man began tailgating me and flashing his lights at me after I dropped Ironflower off at school. I was doing 36 mph in a 35 zone and he was in a hurry, I guess.

We avoided problems in the grocery store because I bribed the boys with toys and food. My grocery bill was $20 more than it should have been. (Does this mean my children would be well-behaved if we were rich?)

10;45 saw us driving home from the grocery store, with Lovebug yelling, ” I have to pee right now!”. We were 10 minutes from home and I did not want to clean up pee in addition to the poop and salsa, so I pulled over on a side street. This caused ChunkyMonkey to wail loudly as he wanted out too. I brought Lovebug over to a tree. I reviewed how to pee standing up because he generally likes to sit down. I don’t know why. Because of that, he kept trying to squat and I kept trying to make him stand up straight. Eventually he peed .. . . .correctly. . .onto my shoe.

12:00pm Ironflower, in her frustration over having to leave school, threw a rock in her brother’s general direction.

It’s now 2 and I am proud to say that I have not yet bitten though my tongue.

What do you do about your frustration?

PS If you happen to be a person who links to me – all three of you – could you please, please change your link to jerseygirl89.com? Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

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We’ve been to a birthday party that had a moonwalk, clown, hot dog cart and 4 cakes. And that was a first birthday party.Mostly, we’ve been to parties at indoor play places. But occasionally we’ve been to decked out yards, with visits from Dora and Diego. Once we went to a party that had a clown, a singer and a balloon maker.

I mention all this because Ironflower’s birthday is a scant 2 months away. And there are 19 kids in her class. So we’re looking at inviting 25 kids to the party, or thereabouts. That will pretty much double the exorbitant fee we’ll be paying for the party space in the first place.

When I relayed this to a Kansas City friend of mine, she was kind of horrified. Party spaces and personalized favors didn’t happen in her preschooler’s world.

And when I lamented to a New Jersey mom that I wished my kids had been born in the summer so I could have a party in my yard, she was horrified by the thought of the clean up and organizing involved.

All I can think is, isn’t celebrating a birthday supposed to be FUN? Why am I stressing about this 2 months ahead of time? Oh, right. Ironflower wants what all her friends have: her class at a party place where she will get to be the center of attention. And cute gift bags. And probably a new outfit for the event.

At least I’ll have  break until Lovebug’s birthday in March. And at least his class is small. And he probably won’t care about the outfit.

What about you? What are birthday parties like in your neck of the woods?

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Because there’s a difference between disagreement and disgusting behavior, and you all have crossed it. And I happen to know that Bill, at least, is playing a role and doesn’t believe everything he spouts (or lets his viewers spout). But this playing to the lunatic fringes makes me nauseous.

If the birther movement wasn’t bad enough (like that wouldn’t have been checked by all the McCain and Clinton resources already? Seriously?), now we’ve got people comparing Obama to Hitler. If it’s not his “socialized” medicine (I guess then the UK, Canada and Ireland are all socialist countries, maybe we should stop asking them to assist us in our wars), then it’s the fact that schoolchildren sang a song about him. Because it was okay when schoolchildren sang songs about Bush (Jon Stewart showed a lovely song thanking Bush and FEMA for all their help, sung by young Katrina victims, for example), but when people do it for Obama it means he wants to be Hitler? And the schoolchildren are being indoctrinated? Like public school isn’t one long series of indoctrinations?

I mean, I really don’t care if they hate Obama. I certainly had a strong aversion to Bush. But. . . .I didn’t go around comparing him to Hitler. Because you know what? He wasn’t trying to exterminate everyone he deemed undesirable (at least not directly) and he didn’t try to take over Europe. Totally not like Hitler.

And neither is Obama. There’s no extermination, no take over the world plans and no dissolution of Congress.  Nor is he a socialist, if you actually understand the definition of the word. But I guess the viewers love those phrases, whether they’re actually true or not. So the talking heads keep using them, spinning the idiots of this country up until they all think that our president is a too-smart Kenyan who wants to be Hitler or Mussolini.  Meanwhile, proud Republicans like Tom DeLay go on Dancing With the Stars, where they can really make a difference.

But, honestly, would a smart person actually want to be Hitler? He committed suicide. And Mussolini was executed. Demagogues don’t usually walk gently into a luxurious old age. Of course, Rush, Bill, Sean and Glenn know that (I think). They probably know that comparing Obama to Hitler is incendiary and ridiculous. They just don’t care. It’s not about debating about what’s best for our country anymore, it’s about naming calling and who’s “winning” by getting the most viewers and votes for their favorites.

It’s not like they really care.

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And I shake my head.

Hot Guy and I don’t have secret crushes, we have permission lists.

Like, if I ever get a chance to be naked with Hugh Jackman, I have permission to go for it. Likewise Jon Stewart (okay, mostly I just want him to talk to me, but I’ll be naked if that’s what it’ll take for him to talk to me.). And if I get to do Ben Affleck or Matt Damon, Hot Guy will be really happy for me, as long as I tell him the details. Really.

He has my permission for Drew Barrymore and Sandra Bullock, plus some others I can’t remember. But not Christina Ricci. He thinks she’s on his list, but she’s not. I think she’s weird. She seems like she’d go all stalker or something.

Anyway, I suppose my point is that Hot Guy and I discuss our crushes openly. Possibly even eagerly. And even though I’m the chubbiest I’ve ever been and am pushing 40, I am never threatened by his crushes. Why would I be? The vows talk about forsaking all others, not forsaking all sexual fantasies.

When I was in high school, there was this boy I really, really liked. Surprisingly, we actually started dating. All was fine until he was in a play with this girl that he had a crush on. No, he didn’t dump me. In fact, he was a perfectly attentive boyfriend. It was just that I could tell that he had a crush on this girl, not that she was interested. But it bothered me so much that I dumped him.

I spent the next year and a half regretting it. 18 months of wasting being a cute little thing because I was hung up on a guy who was never going to trust me again. Genius, I tell you. Though  it sure got me over being jealous about somebody’s crushes.

But I’m starting to wonder if Hot Guy and I are in the minority. Do you hide your crushes from your spouse? Or do you have a list?

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