Edgy Mama

Friday flash fiction is up at Flasheville. It’s a hilarious, and oh-so-true piece. Thanks, Devin!

My four-year-old son, who is home with an ear infection, still has the energy to “punish” the Seven Dwarfs for transgressions that only he understands.

Here’s my favorite. Poor Sneezy. Do you think having that bar shoved against his nose will help control his sneezing? He was soon rescued by the Blue Power Ranger.

Here Grumpy gets tied up with a fire hose. Sleepy gets runover by Thomas the Train. And Happy is, appropriately, stuffed into a heart-shaped cage.

Finally, Dopey and Doc get “tagged up” by the evil sewing thread. “Tagged up” is my son’s term for tying something up.

No word on Bashful. Maybe he’s been a good dwarf.

Here’s the mnemonic for identifying the seven dwarfs (good party or Quizzo fodder): two S’s, two D’s, and three emotions. Two S’s: Sleepy and Sneezy; two D’s: Dopey and Doc; and three emotions: Happy, Bashful, and Grumpy.

I know I’ve complained about this before, but when E-spouse is on the road, which would be almost every other week, I often feel that I’m hanging on by the skin of my teeth. And my teeth don’t have skin. What the hell does that mean anyway?

I think single parents are the true gods and goddesses among us. As a part-time single Mom, I cannot imagine what would be lost in the cracks of the floorboards if this was a full-time gig.

Two weeks ago, I missed my daughter’s speech evaluation review. The one that had been scheduled a month previously. The one I’d told E to write down on his palm pilot, although I then neglected to write it on MY calendar. So, E, who was in Atlanta, knew about the appointment, but I, who was at home, and scheduled to attend with my girl’s speech therapist and teacher, totally forgot.

Today, I sent the same neglected child to school with greasy hair and wearing both a worn T-shirt and a large Dora Band-Aid across her nose so she couldn’t pick at a scab. Only after she was gone did I notice that my calender sported the words “School Portrait Day.” Damn. I guess that’s what she normally looks like, though. If I’d dolled her up, the photo wouldn’t reflect reality. When I picked her up from school, the Band-Aid was missing. I asked if she’d taken it off for the photo. “No,” she said. “It fell off after the photo. ” Damn again.

To top it off, I just had to clear a toilet bowl full of urine-soaked toilet paper. My son, who has finally learned to wipe himself, has not learned frugality with the wipage materials.

In our family, toilet clogs are E-spouse’s job. After all, he has an Ivy League degree in the big E. As in Engineering. I still don’t understand how he got it. The man can outmath everyone I know. He actuallyLOVES algebra, trigonometry, and other complex mathematical equations. But, please don’t ask him to build a bridge. Or load the dishwasher in an organized manner. Or remember how to drive somewhere he’s been only three or four times. But, thank you Dartmouth, he can use a plunger.

Sorry about the less-than-inspired posts of the past few days (though I must say that the stripper song post has provoked some interesting ideas).

I’ve actually been writing for money. As opposed to writing for love, which, really, is what this blog is all about. Your love. For me. In all my “I’m Too Sexy” Mommy glory.

Enough with the sentence fragments.

Batman continues to correct my pronunciation on a daily basis, and it’s driving me bonkers. He’s four. I’m 42. If I want to pronouce “water” as “waadar,” I’ll damn well do it. After all, I grew up in Gorga. Today in the grocery store, he says: “Mommy, you say it like this: wa-ter-melon.” I reply: “Well, I guess you don’t want any waa-dar-melon then.” He sticks his lip out. “You’re not listening very well, Mommy.”

I look at him, gripping the germ-laden grocery cart handle, feeling sympathy for that woman who had to go to jail after someone reported that she slapped her kid at K-Mart. Not that I’ve ever slapped my kids. But, in my mind? O, yes. Then I start wondering if this is like cheating in your heart. I mean, we’ve all cheated in our hearts, right? Poor Jimmy Carter, always getting beaten up on for his refreshing honesty. So, if I’ve slapped my kids in my mind, is that almost as bad as really doing it? I don’t think so. After all, what happens in my mind stays in my mind. Except when I spill it in a highly public forum that hundreds of people read every day.

Speaking of former politicians, have you seen the new $10 bills? They’re a peachy pink color, like Euro cash. Alexander Hamilton has never looked better. He’s staring in the distance, his strong jawline clearly delineated. I wonder if he’s thinking about Aaron Burr. His nemesis, who will kill him in the most famous duel in American history.

Which led me to think about Theodosia Burr, Aaron’s daughter, who was married to my great times many uncle, Joseph Alston, governor of South Carolina. After Theo and Joseph’s only child, a son, died young, Theo decided to go visit Daddy (that would be Aaron, the duellist with decent aim). She left Charleston on a ship headed to New York. The ship and Theo disappeared somewhere off the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Never to be found. Pirates, weather, shipwreck–all have been implicated, none proven.

Poor Aaron, he lost his grandson, then his beloved daughter. I would have shot Alexander Hamilton too. But only in my mind.

…here’s a cute quizzo. I want to know what your results are!

Your Stripper Song Is

I’m Too Sexy by Right Said Fred “And I’m too sexy for your party Too sexy for your party No way I’m disco dancing” Yes, you’re super sexy. But you never take yourself too seriously!

I must be listed somewhere in the multiple bloggy links as a “Mommy” blogger because I received this e-mail the other day:

Hello there,
I came across your blog while looking for appropriate places to research parenting and raising children. I’m currently working with The Learning Channel casting a new television series about children with behavioral, sleeping, or eating problems. The show is a hit in Great Britain and TLC is excited to adapt it for American television. I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to post our flyer, or our contact information and the kind of people we hope to hear from.

Let me tell you a little bit about our show:

An international TV first, this exciting new format takes parenting television to a totally new dimension by fusing reality TV with observational documentary to observe families solving their behavioral problems. This is not reality TV. This is reality with a purpose. Three families will be selected with toddlers and young children, each suffering from a parenting problem. They will be invited to a residence in the UK where they will learn the skills they need to turn their lives around in just six days…

Our ideal families have children between the ages of 18 months and 8 years old. We would love to hear from all families: single parents, alternative lifestyle parents, teen parents, ethnic minority parents, anyone and everyone!

I’ve attached a copy of our flyer as a Word document. Feel free to look it over. If you feel your website could help with our search, I’d love it if you could post it within your site. Please don’t hesitate to call me with any questions or concerns you may have – my direct office line and e-mail are listed below. The ones listed on the flyer I’ve attached get potential families to a hotline and general information e-mail center. As the casting associate producer, I’m sure that I can answer most of your questions regarding casting, as well as the show.

Best wishes, and thank you for any help that you can offer us!

Michael Petrella
Casting Associate Producer
Optomen Productions

I find it difficult to believe that Michael actually read any of Edgy Mama before sending this missive, as this blog is not exactly an appropriate spot to research parenting skills. Maybe to research irritable Mommy syndrome or bored MILFdom, but not a place for healthy child-raising advice.

But it is SUCH a nice, personal e-mail. I cut out Michael’s direct office line and e-mail, because I felt that he was going out on a limb to give me personal access (oh, and I guess I’m supposed to post the flyer instead of the e-mail. But you and I both know I don’t like to follow the rules).

Maybe Michael wants me to apply for the show? My family could reenact our current Juice Wars or the Gameboy Wars or play Whiner Takes All. Of course, the producers would have to bleep out every fifth word of mine, though I then could explain my theory that the kids are going to hear the words anyway, so they might as well hear them from me. My kids could beat up each other and then have a chat with the TV psychologist during their time-outs. As some of our more interesting family conflicts arise in the middle of the night, the producers could take footage of E-spouse running around the house nekkid and me with wild hair and baggy jammies that typically show a bit of plumber’s crack when I lean over to tuck in whomever has night neediness. What fun!

If you or anyone you know is interested in applying for the show (free trip to England), e-mail me at janusatannefittenglenndotcom, and I’ll put you in touch with my new buddy Michael. Wouldn’t it be great if someone on the show was a blogger? Way cool blog fodder.

March 25, 1989, Chicken Kentucky, 1st partial birth in space, chicken
March 25, 1973 Bob Sura, NBA guard for the Cleveland Cavaliers
March 25, 1972 Howard Battle, born in Biloxi, Mississippi, infielder for the Philadelphia Phillies
March 25, 1971 Perry Klein, NFL quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons
March 25, 1971 Sheryl Swoopes, born in Texas, WNBA forward, Houston Comets, 1996 Olympics gold
March 25, 1966 Jeff Healey, Canada, blind pop guitarist, See the Light
March 25, 1966 Tom Glavine, born in Concord, Massachusetts, pitcher, Atlanta Braves, Cy Young 1991
March 25, 1965 Sarah Jessica Parker, born in Nelsonville, Ohio, actress, Square Pegs, LA Story, Sex and the City
March 25, 1964 Anne Fitten Glenn, born in Columbus, Georgia, writer and blogger, Edgy Mama
March 25, 1949 Nick Lowe, born in England, rock vocalist, Rockpile-Cruel to be Kind
March 25, 1947 Elton John, [Reginald Kenneth Dwight], born in England, singer, Rocketman
March 25, 1946 Bonnie Bedelia, [Culkin], New York City, actress, Die Hard, Heart Like a Wheel
March 25, 1944 Frank Oz, muppetteer, Grover-Sesame Street, Muppet Show
March 25, 1942 Aretha Franklin, born in Memphis, Tennessee, singer, Respect
March 25, 1942 Jacqueline Lichtenberg, U.S., sci-fi author, Star Trek Lives!, Dreamspy
March 25, 1942 Paul Michael Glaser, born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, actor, Starsky-Starsky and Hutch
March 25, 1940 Anita Bryant, born in Barnsdall, Oklahoma, homophobe/singer
March 25, 1934 Gloria Steinem, born in Toledo, Ohio, feminist/publisher, Ms. Magazine
March 25, 1925 Flannery O’Connor, born in Georgia, novelist, A Good Man is Hard to Find
March 25, 1922 Eileen Ford, modeling agency head, Ford Modeling Agency
March 25, 1909 Dutch, Emil, Leonard, baseball pitcher, Boston Red Sox, 1.01 ERA 1914
March 25, 1881 Bela Bartok, born in Hungary, composer/pianist, Concerto for Orchestra
March 25, 1823 William Thompson Martin, Mjr General Confederate Army, died in 1910
March 25, 1808 Jose de Espronceda y Delgado, Spanish revolutionary/poet, Cortes
March 25, 1782 Carolina [Maria A] Bonaparte, countess Lipona, sister of Napoleon
March 25, 1653 Joseph Sauveur, French physicist/mathematician
March 25, 1133 Henry II, King of England, 1154-89

P.S. Ash is posting kid artwork on his blog–in particular, artwork depicting Asheville and Asheville weather. Go check out my girl’s Map of Asheville! And send him some of your kid’s artwork at sweetashvegas@hotmail.com.

If you like political parody, go visit the site unveiled at last night’s Drinking Liberally convocation: www.taylorsucks.org.

Revel in the power of the internet. Revel in our new blogosphere-fueled meritocracy, where those of us with a little time, energy, and thoughtful commentary can help bring down a giant. I’m getting chill bumps just thinking about it.

For those of you who aren’t Western North Carolinians, Charles Taylor has been the 11th District’s Congressman for like 16 years. No term limits. No way. Our local nickname for him is “Chainsaw Charlie.” Taylor has made some very questionable ethical decisions, including, but not limited to, accepting cashola from Jack Abramoff.

Yeah, we’re in the South. We do dirty politicians. But it’s time for a change. It’s time to call naughty old white men to the table–to make them accept some responsibility–and to replace them with honest, not-on-the-take folk (see hunky democratic opponent Heath Shuler).

You go, guys. I’m here to help.

I’m mad. I’ve been sick for what feels like the entire month of March. Both my kids are alternating colds/flu. I just got through a bout of something flu-like, and now I think I have strep. I’m dragging myself and my kids to our family doctor this afternoon to beg for a miracle. I want one of those horse-sized shots of penicillin in the heinie. I love those. No pills to remember, just a big stick, and like 12 hours later, I’m totally fine. In fact, I’ll be reciting naughty limericks and dancing with my cats. I heart penicillin. And trust me, with kids, it’s much easier to deal with two seconds of shot pain than to have to force pills down their tiny throats. Or mess with that pink liquid that the kids then spray back onto me, annihilating any bacteria daring to live on my shirt front.

This afternoon’s appoinment will be my third doctor’s visit of the week. I just left the dermatologist’s office. He had to remove two stitches given after a benign mole removal. We remove lots of moles in this family. Four years ago, I noticed a really dark, but small, mole on the back of my thigh. I went to the dermatologist, and he removed it, though he said he didn’t think it was malignant. He called the next day and said, “Melanoma.” I went back in and had a large portion of tissue removed from my leg. It was Stage 1 and had not yet spread. If I’d waited a few more months, though, I’d probably be dead by now. Actually, way before now.

My family doctor says that, given my “healthy” lifestyle, my premature death would most likely be caused by one of two things: a malignant mole or a car wreck.

Since the melanoma, I’ve had six other moles removed. Not one has even been pre-cancerous. Scarily, however, my daughter has had two moles removed–at four and five years of age. Both were pre-cancerous.

We have since invested heavily in sunblock, hats, and full-body SPF-rated Australian body suits. We shun the sun. And we will help send my dermatologist’s kids to college.

My other doctor’s appointment was with an aesthestician. So, not a doctor, but a woman with high aesthetic principles. She says she can end my years of fighting rosacea, a skin condition involving flushing and broken capillaries on the face. Rampant in those of us of Irish and English descent, rosacea is exacerbated by sunlight and alcohol. So, “photorejuvenation” will cure the problem, plus according to the aesthestician, plump up the collagen in my skin so I’ll look ten years younger. I’m going to come out of there looking like a teenager with arthritis. And I’ll be able to go back to drinking. Oops, I never stopped drinking. But I will continue to shun sunlight. Pale, but tipsy. Maybe that’s what I should call my autobiography?

Since my last post on this subject was hot fodder for conversation, and since there are always more things you guys need to know about the double-x genome…

1. Just because we like our homes to be clean doesn’t mean we like to clean them ourselves (the same goes for the yard and the car). One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was when my grandpa paid for someone to clean my house once a week for three months after each of my babies were born.

2. We do like to cook, but not on command. We’re not labradors. In fact, you cooking for us occasionally is good. Take-out is better. Being taken out is best.

3. You don’t have to share our love of “cuteness,” but admitting, even grudgingly, that kids and baby animals are cute will get you far. In some cases, really far.

4. One of the reasons we heart men so much is that we prefer to ignore your ulterior motives. We know they’re there, but you don’t need to call our attention to them. Let us wallow in our naivete.

5. Most of us are good at telling you what we need. We need you to listen.

6. We really can multi-task. We can carry on coherent conversation with you and our girlfriend on the telephone and cook dinner for the kids–all at the same time.

7. Respecting our relationships with our girlfriends is key to longevity. We may need to bitch about you to the girls, but don’t take it personally. It’s just what we do. And what is said at girls’ night stays at girls’ night. Most of the time.

7 1/2. In fact, don’t ever date a girl who doesn’t have girlfriends. Then her only venthole is you. And she’s either nuts or a mean girl.

8. Periods suck. Pregnancy sucks. Childbirth sucks. Menopause sucks. Deal with it.

9. No, giving jewelry is not original. But it always works.

10. A lot of us do like sports. What’s not to like about cut young men bouncing around in tank tops and shorts? What’s not to like about muscled forearms protruding from silky jerseys? What’s not to like about athletic strength and agility? Just don’t expect us to know all the rules. Or care about them.