This Tiger Mother is Done with the Tiger Blood!

Soapbox Sundays! Better Late than Never!

Yes, I am the Chinese sign of the Tiger and I actually loved the book ,Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.  I am not saying that I am for not allowing  my kids to attend sleep overs or make them practice the piano a million hours a day.  I just like the fundamentals of the book and the author is hilarious and laughing all the way to the bank because she has roused up a whole sect of “soccer moms”.  I digress . . .   What my Soapbox Sunday is about is good ‘ol Charlie Sheen and his “tiger blood” syndrome.

 I am going to own that I am going to be guilty of doing exactly what I am on my soapbox about, but maybe if I can get enough of you to agree with me, words like Charlie Sheen and tiger blood will fade away as quickly as it  ignited.

I get that for some sick and strange reason America loves to watch train wrecks of humanity Hollywood.  No one really wants to face the reality that the world is in economic crisis, the Middle East is in civil distress, the Mid-West is in civil unrest, we are going to be bellying up to the pump at $5.00 a gallon soon  and there are only three episodes left of Big Love.   I get watching some “fictious” character of Hollywood on his crash and burn tour to either Promises Rehab Facility or to something far worse with only a True Hollywood Story episode to be remembered by, seems to be a good way to fill up the days of our pathetic lives. 

Unfortunately, Charlie is not a fictious character. He has people who actually love him and hates seeing this happening.  You have the mothers of his children trying to shelter them from them seeing their dad self destruct and a family that just don’t know what to do, so they are just bracing themselves for his rock bottom moment, ready to pick up the broken pieces, if there is any left to pick up.

This is a man who is not fueled by “Tiger Blood”, even thought my Sirius Radio has a whole station dedicated to “Charlie Sheen’s Tiger Blood Radio”, like it is something real.   What he is fueled by is all the attention he is getting out of this.  He is an addict and this is classic text-book addict behavior, I should know I grew up with addicts my whole life.

The media, the fans or non-fans need to leave him alone; he should be hearing a million crickets, not a million tweets. No one should be adding fuel to this train wreck.  

He is losing everything tangible and in his surreal false reality he is thinking he IS gaining everything and has an edge on the market of life.  A life that is troubled, disturbed, and wounded.   Please America, can we please stop with the tiger blood and get back to True Blood.  At least that is fiction and not someone’s true reality.

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No Gold Star for Me!

Today I took PD2 to her 18-month check-up.  I grabbed a bag that I have packed with diapers, wipes and diaper rash cream and added a toy to the mix for the wait.  We headed out and all was well until Linda Blair showed up in the backseat as we were pulling into the doctor’s office parking area.  There is PD2 strapped down in  a five-point harness car seat spewing the contents of her very healthy and nutritious breakfast of chocolate milk and Apple Jacks; yes, a breakfast for future champions!  On a side note I am holding my breath if this was a bout of her random car sickness issues or if she has that god-awful bug that is going around, only time will tell on that one! 

I look back and she is covered from head to toe in stomach contents and I think know that a colorful metaphor flew out of my mouth that refers to another body content that also expels out of your body!  I did not have another change of clothes on hand, which is beyond me why not.  I never EVER leave without an extra change of clothes.  So there I am gagging (I have a high gag reflux, which came after spending 18- long months with Linda Blair while I was pregnant with both kids) while I scooping up the mess with wipes into a few zip lock baggies I had on hand.  I finally strip and clean off PD2 and wrap her in my sweater coat since is cold here right now. . . or should I rephrase for my fellow bloggers that live anywhere but sunny Southern California that it is cooler now, and headed into the doctor’s office. 

As I walk in, I am greeted by the doc himself and he laughed at the sight that just walked in shaking his head.  We have grown a professional fondness for each other over the past three years.  I admire and respect his style of treatment and I think he likes that I refer the heck out to him and I tend to amuse him with my quirky personality and sayings.   There is a new family with their days old baby sitting in the corner and I am trying to play off the fact that I am bringing in my kid in almost her birthday suit so they don’t run screaming for the hills that their baby is going to get horribly sick from my pukie smelling bundle of  joy!   I also heard a mother sitting on the other side of the room tell another mother that now she feels better that she did not put shoes or socks on her kid as she looks my direction. 

I was quickly called into the exam room and when the doc came into examine her, I told him what happened.  I was sheepish in the fact I SUCKED as a mother in not being prepared and of all times to blow it, is to be in front of the pediatrician!  He went on with his exam telling me that he once was thrown up on by his daughter as they were taking off on a flight and had to deal with wearing it for two hours.  Ok, so this happens to the best of us, even a doctor.  I am feeling more comfortable and thinking at the end of the visit I will get my normal gold star stamp of approval of my excellent care of my rug rats! 

So, as he was leaving, I asked, “Sooooo, I know the kid will get the sucker, but am I going to get my gold star?”  He laughed and shook his head  and he followed it up with, “I like PD2’s new fashion statement, but be thankful that it was not raining today.”

Rat Bastard! No Gold Star for me and I now must go and clean up after Pukefest 2011!

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In Gymboree Rehab

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Well, the gig is up! My true addiction of “hording” Gymboree clothing has been discovered by the hubs (the bursting at the seams dressers and closets sold me out).  If you are just tuning in, I have a huge addiction/love affair with the children’s clothes from Gymboree. I have blogged on it recently.

 Last night I was forced into rehab, actually I would not call it rehab, I would call it cut off cold turkey.  The hubs words still resonates in my head, “You should be embarrassed on how much Gymboree you have!”.  At least I got my last fix in using my Gymbucks, even though the hubs thinks it took a lot of Camp Pie Hole bucks to get those Gymbucks.  He does admit that the Petri Dishes are always adorable and he loves all the attention het gets when they are out and about, but I have taken it to a level that needs a massive restructure.  I do have to agree, I do need to cool my jets.  However, once the gantlet was laid down I did call the crisis Gymboree Hotline (my close friend and fellow Gymboree addict for consoling).  She even said I needed to get some space between me and my favorite website/store in the mall and half jokingly said I should seek professional help. . . I wonder what Frolicking Lady would charge for a few online sessions?

So to my faithful readers (all six of you,yes I gained a few more followers!) I ask your forgiveness ahead of time if I come across more testy and irritable than normal. I am undergoing the “detox” phase.  At least I still have my “The Real Housewives of  DC/ATL/OC/NJ/NYC/BH”.  Oh, I could just see something horrible happening to my DVR in the middle of this to really send me over the edge. 

 I now must go and bury my head in the “new clothes smell” of my recent final purchase for a long while.

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Ode to Gymboree!

I love Gymboree! I shop you like you are free!

I can shop you at home, so I don’t have to use a comb.

While sipping on my tea!

You have all that I want and you do nothing but taunt.

I love when your shipping is free!

It can be bad when my husband gets mad

When I say with Gymbucks it was free!

I get all warm and pinkie when I dress the girls like Twinkies.

It is fun for all who look to see!

UPS knows my name asks what is so special in the box that is always the same.

I say it is Gymboree you should get some yourself and it will bring you glee!

Once in a while I drive a mile.

To your store the girls and me.

You have entertainment for my little crew and little chairs that fit them too!

This makes my time very carefree!

I fear the day when no they will say.

They day the girls are taller than me!

Oh how I love you Gymboree I will do my part and treat you like art.

Keeping the girls looking sharp is my key.

I will follow your every line and make many pieces mine.

Oh the joy you bring me!

My addiction to you comes with a great cost, but without you I would be lost!

So for now to feed the need I will readily pay the needed fee!

(161)

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