Frenemies, friendships (or lack of therein)...

I like to be positive. I am a pretty sunny person, overall- just my nature, came by it honestly from my dear Daddy :)). So this will be the last of these kinda posts. But sometimes 'needs must go there'. So here we go.


Frenemies. Sigh. A house came between me and mine. My house. It was like an obsession with her - as long as we lived in this house, she could not, nay would not, visit- we could not be friends.

She resorted to snide comments and subtle (later not so subtle) comparisons and 'oneupmanship(s)'. Like ridiculously expensive private school tuition. We could have our house, but could we afford 20k a year tuition for our kids? If we really cared about our kids, we would sacrifice 'the house' and move back into our two bedroom townhome and make do. After all, that was what she was doing? Never mind that she had a (cramped) closet full of Chanel bags and what not.

My issue was not so much the unsolicited 'advice' on how to apportion my finances, nor the insinuation that she was somehow a better parent, not even my mild irritation with the age-old private vs public debate (my take, private, duh), but that she thought so little of our 'friendship' to let a little envy get in the way.

I mean, we all feel pangs of it - "Aw man, I wish I could...drive that... vacation there...afford that...". But how many of us actually launch a whole campaign around it(lol)? Abandon a friend/friendship, drop off the face of the earth? That's a frenemy right there.




Walk a mile in my shoes, don't beat me over the head with 'em. Dag. I mean, geez...(disclaimer: not my house, lol - MARC train yucky floor!!!)


Well, I mourned the loss of the friendship for all of a minute. that was all it was worth to me. The 'house' thing was her issue, her area of insecurity and once I realised that she was trying to make a pricey kindergarten education mine, we were done. What, so we can't be friends if I don't fit into the little box you created for me in your little mind? Awww, so solly. Must go now. Boo, hiss.

Don't get me wrong - a little friendly competition is great. Not being able to happy for your 'friend'? Not so hot. So adios 'amiga'! Don't let my huge, fancy oak door hit you in the tuckus! :)


Femme du maison :), pp

I'm baaaaaack!

After a one year hiatus. Well, a little over a year, if you want to get all technical with it. What happened to me? Well, let's just say that life conspired against my blog. First computer issues, then camera issues, then monkey-boy and Numero uno son issues (remember them?). Yeah, well just life. But I am back. For real. And to start things off on an upbeat note, I will give myself an award. Cause it's all about moi. The award for 'the crappiest mom' goes to... yours truly! Why? Read on, please.
I am always impeccably dressed. Always. As in my hubby has been known to tease me about it. 'in life there are two certainties, death and Prada Principal having the perfect outfit to wear.' And I extend the same ferocious attention to detail to my boys dressing as well. But like I intimated, life had been 'happening' and I delegated this to Nanny dearest since she seemed to know how to throw things together. Seemed to. Uh huh. Why do I get to Numero Uno's school last week Friday and see him rocking this G.I Joe pajama top, blue jeans and sneakers? I mean, I just about died. As if it wasn't bad enough, the top was slightly snug from being left in the dryer too long, you know what I mean. Just. Not. Right.
Suffice it to say we were out of there in a flash, and I am not sure I can ever show my face there again. Make me feel better, share your 'bad mommy' moments. Pleeeeaaaasssseee!
Yours in 'fashion faux pasdom'

Jes' like Bisquick...

Numero Uno Son turns three later next month. Yay on the one hand, as it means good bye to the terrible twos (right?) and hello to three year old 'maturity'. Ha. On the other hand, I have been stressed out trying to plan the 'perfect three year old party', because from what I understand, three is when they actually get it. Everyone knows the all out one year old bash, is for the parents, and since Numero Uno's second birthday was nothing more than a balloon, cupcakes and pizza in school, I figured that this year I'd do something a little special - especially since he has been badgering me about getting him the purple 'mustache' (mustang) car we saw in B.J's for his birthday present. Never mind that he barely drives the one he has now. But it is my fault, in a way. Everything he asks for, "I'll get it for him on his birthday." The trouble here is that I have a toddler with the memory of an elephant. So come his birthday, I might have to take out a loan or something.

I was thinking a fire engine theme - an ode to his love of all things 'auto' with flashing lights and I found out that the Fire museum actually hosts parties - how cool would that be for three year old boys? For the girls, maybe not so much. Or you could have the party at home and have the fire truck swing by your house! Even cooler! But I am determined not to be stuck with three year old debris/ after party fall out, so outsourcing it is. Luckily in 2008, there are more options than ever. 'My Gym' (to which he belongs) - is like 'Gymboree' only better, IMHO, complete with games and everything. All you have to do is bring Pizza, juice boxes and presto - Par-tay! Or our gym - which totally rocks (check it out http://www.lifetimefitness.com/ - you will love it, if you actually like, go.) Same deal as 'My Gym', but even better - with swimming, obstacle courses, scooters - even rock climbing for older kids. And they provide the pizza and juice boxes! I tell ya, 'jes like Bisquick, them parties.'

But when I was googling 'birthday parties for three year old boys' I came across this site 'birthayswithoutpressure' and I was like ' How sad that anyone would need this', until I realised that um.. okay, that 'anyone' included me. Why am I putting pressure on myself to throw NU son this party that he could probably care less about? How about just having a simple party at home with three or four of his pals, a cake pizza, sun chips and ice cream and call it a day? Then of course buy him his beloved mustang. End of story. Me and all moms of his buddies would breathe a sigh of relief - cause really, who needs to attend yet another scintillating toddler party? Not me, not after this summer. So why inflict his on others? a) Because I am a glutton for punishment and masochistic at the same time, b) Because I want to show people and my son that I really truly love him, c) Cause I have 'working moms guilt' and this is in part, penance, d) I am lazy and do not want to move a muscle or use a brain cell. I think a bit of all of the above actually, but if I had to choose one, then (d) would be it. Oh and I would pay a fortune just to get out of small talk with some of those Moms. Mm hmm, you know the ones, right? Shudder.

So I have purged myself and I am suitably ashamed and chastised. But I can't promise you I will be baking a cake and making my own pinata just yet though. Not this year. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

the party planning, pp

Chasing Fireflies

If I were a rich girl, nananananananana*...I would shop EXCLUSIVELY at chasing fireflies. Or maybe I'd shop there regardless if I had a little girl. I mean, I have two adorable boys and I shop there - not exclusively, but more than I should. You see, while I love my Old Navy/Gap staples (any mom with a kid in preschool knows how well they hold up to the 'play doh' and paint) I cannot resist a saucy T-shirt, or this pair of 'dragon appliqued' pants. Let's face it, this is the only time when he'll be able to wear those and get away with it, so I'm going for it. Yes, the prices are a bit steep (sometimes even when they're on sale) but they hold up SO well, are totally adorable and unique and I promise you, you'll never see any other kid in them.
That's why if I was a rich girl (nananananananana), I would live in this saucy, lime green, glorious tutu. And sleep in this disgustingly fabulous bed. Yes, I totally would.

*Sung by Gwen Stephanie, Butchered By Prada Principal

Potty Mouth

Bad words. Like s--t and st--id and 'shut up'. That's the phase we're in now - 'numero uno' son and I. It is a constant battle between us, made all the more difficult because he is, afterall only repeating what Mark* says. And as long as he prefaces it with "Mama, Mark said {insert expletive here). Bad word!", I am supposed to be okay with it. I mean, he is merely acting in his capacity as an objective journalist, providing verbatim quotes, but not really saying the 'bad words', right? Wrong, buddy.

I on the other hand, am trying to find the delicate balance of letting him know those words are not acceptable in our house, and from his mouth in any house for that matter, without getting too excited, as that would invariably have the same effect as making him say them even more, just to get a reaction from me. Sigh. Being an adult and a parent can be so tiresome. Why my kid has to be be BFFs with Mr. Potty Mouth is beyond me. So, does washing one's mouth out with soap and water really work?

* name changed to protect tots identity.

Speaking of mouths, (I know, clever segue) the good folks at 'Let's Dish' are offering a free - yes free - dinner for all new (even repeat) moms from May 4th to the 11th in honor of Mothers Day. I love free stuff and I love 'Let's Dish'! My hubby and I went to the Columbia location last year and had a blast. Plus we came away with meals for weeks and weeks. Delish and cost effective, which always works for me... (P>S. Not sure if they are only based in Maryland, but you could check the website and/or facebook page to find out.)

toodles, PP

Bribing Toddlers and all that good stuff...

We all do it, so don't judge me. Since I'm home on waiting on this 'phantom baby', I have the privilege of 'drop off' and 'pick up' duty of the little prince to/from preschool. Inevitably he cries. But only when 'Mama' is dropping him off. When Daddy drops him off (which is 98% of the time), he is stoic and happy and a regular 'little mr. sunshine'. I don't get it - is it some kind of unspoken male code not to cry in front of each other, even when one is say, two years old? Or is it because he sees me for like 1.5 hours a day (when I am working) that he feels separation anxiety more? I think so, and that's not an easy one to swallow, as an already guilty mom, so hence the bribes. Yesterday it was the promise of a new 'choo-choo', which he forgot about, today it was a pack of construction stickers slipped into his chubby hand as he wiped his face with the other. I just love my little man so much, don't wanna see him cry! I mean. who could resist that face???? Soooo, the bribes will continue 'until morale improves.' Gotta love parenting, no?