Confessions of a (Not So )Domestic Diva

The Cookie Formerly Known as “Uh-Oh!” January 21, 2008

It’s not a secret that I have a love affair with cookies. And cake. And… ok, almost anything that is a sweet treat, I’m there. But, I have my favorites, just like everyone else, and while I’m usually a soft, chewy cookie kind of gal, there’s one cookie that seems to top ’em all.

I’m crazy for Oreo’s. Not just the regular or Double Stuf variety, either. Oh no, not me- that would be too simple. While there isn’t an Oreo I’d refuse (or stop at one ..or six.. at) there is one Oreo that makes my heart, and taste buds, go mad.

I am absolutely nuts for the Golden Oreo’s with chocolate creme. These are the cookies I hide from the children, seriously. Isn’t that awful? I mean, sometimes we buy extras with cookies or donuts, whatever, so Jim and I can have a little something for ourselves, but I hide entire bags of these cookies from my children. And eat them on the sly.

Why am I devoting an entire post to cookies?? Especially cookies of the not baked by me variety? Because Jim recently re-discovered these for me, and I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoy them. Which is, obviously, a lot. But, I’m mainly devoting a post to cookies because it’s a guilty pleasure. A simple pleasure- something that makes me super happy and takes almost no effort on anyone else’s part. Or really of my own, other than lift, chew, repeat. And when you’re a mom, it’s all about those things. Five minutes to really enjoy something for just you, no matter what it is. Even if it’s just eating a cookie. Or six…

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Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered…. January 17, 2008

So we’ve been watching American Idol. **sigh** I can’t seem to get away from it, and I’m not really sure what prompts me, or Jim (handsomely bearded husband) to plop down four hours of our week to see some good, more mediocre, very few super talented, and hundreds upon hundreds of train wrecks. But, we do it. And we are not alone.

But, I digress (as usual). Tuesday we were watching, and a woman named Beth popped in and sang some Sinatra. Beth is 28 ( I think??) and there was just something, something besides her age and that particular song that opened my mouth. (Beth is going to Hollywood, by the way. Yay Beth!)
I wandered back into the room and leaned against the couch for a second. “Wonder if she’s one of us?” I said more to myself than to Jim. “Us” meaning the women of my age group that not only grew up on a little group called New Kids on the Block (cue memories of screaming tweenys and flying panties), but still purchase solo albums from any of the ex members with their own thing going on.

The reason I asked this was because of “Talk To Me”, the latest solo from Joe McIntyre, the baby blued cutie that made me (and eight hundred thousand other girls) shriek at levels only small children and animals can hear. TTM is a tribute to Mr. McIntyre’s own all time fave, Old Blue Eyes himself Frank Sinatra. And “Bewitched” is on that album. So it seemed reasonable to wonder if that was where Beth’s song came from. Not that I’ll ever know, but it was interesting. (To me.)

The boy band rage has slowly been coming alive in our house these days, anyway. My 7 year old is slowly sinking into the craze with the Jonas Brothers. I recognize the glazed look she gets in her eyes. I recognize it and pray that there is no merchandising for these Brothers- my parents probably spent a small fortune on all of the NKOTB paraphernalia I had to acquire (or DIE! just DIE!! without it!!) and could probably very well have retired to Aruba or something, had I not needed that last hot pink slap bracelet. But I did need it, dammit, just as I’m certain Miss Lyss will need whatever version of little girl eye candy comes from this. And who am I to begrudge her? I still have everything New Kids packed away, and I still smile a little when Radio Disney plays The Right Stuff. I will embrace my daughter’s boy band love and have my own walk down memory lane as I do it. Too bad none of ’em have those pretty blue eyes, though….

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Five Minutes January 7, 2008

This has become my most frequently uttered sentence “Can I just have five minutes of…” Here you can fill in the last part with “to myself”, “of peace and quiet”, or “without one of you screaming.” I knew this Mom deal was hard, but man it’s gotten harder. 3 is quite a big difference from 2, especially when the 2 were already school age and past the completely dependent stage of things. Our little newbie has been a challenge, like our oldest was. It must be a girl thing- that coming into the world already defiant, opinionated, and loud.

In part, I admit, is the already tense atmosphere. I’m not overly calm by nature; I’m the biggest worrier and Nervous Nelly there is. Add kids to that and you can imagine the added worries, from everything to sniffles to safety when they leave the house. Cause let’s face it- the world is pretty damn scary these days, and it’s gotten to be almost like playing roulette just sending them to school.

I should, before I go any further, explain some of the dynamics in the house. If not, most of what I say will sound even nuttier than it is… and by God, I can sound nutty. My six year old son has, until the arrival of the little one, pretty much run the schedule and the house due to his needs. He was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder at four, and is still not completely diagnosed. It’s been a constant trial and error with different therapies and meds, school schedules, home schedules, tests and the like. Life with him is very difficult, because you honestly never know what you are dealing with from moment to moment. To have a diagnosis, even partial, has helped immensely. But there’s still the unknown. (If the kid isn’t somewhere on the autism spectrum, I’ll eat my PC, seriously.)

Add to that an older daughter, as well as husband and now a new baby. All which need and deserve attention and affection. The baby demands the attention, naturally- she is 100% dependent on us for her every need. And who can resist smooching all over baby cheeks, feet or trying to squeeze those chubby little thighs? Especially for one of those first grins- oh man that kid can steal your every breath with that grin! My oldest vies for attention, and has (rightfully so) gotten pretty resentful. It’s hard being seven and expected to understand all of it. Hell, it’s hard being twenty nine and wrapping your head around it.

So, now it’s just that much harder to grab five minutes. For anything. To toss a load of laundry in. To grab a cup of coffee, and drink it while it’s hot (coffee is hot?!? REALLY? I don’t remember!) And God forbid I grab the phone and take off with it. Any mom can attest to that- the entire house can be quiet and settled. Then you grab the phone, a book, or something else to do and suddenly, you are the most popular person on the face of the Earth. To everyone. Including your husband. And any pet you may have. You are needed for something, or loved so much that you must cuddle, or talk, or help…. and then comes the “OH MY GOD CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES!?!?”

I am now going to take advantage of my own five minutes, and simultaneously start laundry, grab something to drink and hide in the bathroom to “pee” -aka reading for three minutes periods of time, and sneaking some of the nicotine I need to get through the day. (And yes, smoking’s bad,I get it. I don’t do it around the kids, so no preaching is needed. Thank you, please come again.)

I’m going to try to figure out how to put some pics up here soon, and try to make this a daily, or at least every other day, thing. I think it’ll keep me somewhat sane. LOL

What keeps you sane?