Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

Goddamned Tragedies June 28, 2011

I am at a pizza joint with my kid and my husband. It’s late, kid is starving, pizza arrives blazing hot. Me, being the angelic, well–ok nice, mommy that I am, starts to cut up the pizza into bite-sizes so that baby Tiger can blow on them and hopefully eat them sooner due to the cooling effectes. This was my plan.

Birkenstock heels. Now that is tragic.

Until my kid sees my selfless act and determines that it is the worst affront to a human being since slavery and shoulder pads. Then we had to spend 10 minutes trying to calm her down and convincing her that 1) Mommy was just trying to be nice and 2) she shouldn’t be such an asshole about it because 3) all her pizza is still basically the same.

What I don’t understand is why none of my husband’s “wrong” moves get the same prolonged reaction as mine do. I also don’t understand how on earth a three year old can be so damned opinionated about every little thing and the exactitude with which it is done.

On a daily basis I commit at least three goddamned tragedies in her eyes. It might be time to enroll her in acting class. What on earth am I going to do when she is a teenager and really has an attitude?


To flee or not to flee… June 2, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 10:51 pm
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It’s not really a question. I already bought tickets to go to Scotland for a week with the hubs. We will be gone for one week, with no child.

A funny thing happens to me before leaving my kiddo for a whole week at Grandma’s while I go and pretend I don’t have a shit load of responsibility…even before I have left, I feel bad for leaving and I miss my kid immensely. I also start preemptively missing my dog.

I feel guilty for wanting to live a week as if I am not a parent, or a reliable employee, or an adult for that matter. Add to the guilt an extreme sadness at leaving Sofia behind. She suddenly becomes in my mind not a lot of work at all, and all I can think about are her funny and charming qualities and then what a beast I am for counting down the hours until I am drinking mediocre screwdrivers served to me by an angry coach stewardess.

The thought of both my husband and I boarding a plane (aka flying death trap) and leaving my daughter behind just seems downright irresponsible. Especially since we still haven’t had a will drawn up (Real thoughts in my head: “Shit! That has been on our to-do list for three years. Shit! We should have done that before this trip in case we die.”)

So then I finally come around to some semblance of sanity, which involves a lot of self-talk akin to the scene in Feris Bueller’s Day Off where Cameron is in his shitty car arguing to himself the pros and cons of picking up Ferris: “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.”

And that’s when the immense tornado of shit to do or else a small kitten will be shot every hour hits.  At work, at home, everything becomes urgent and the length of the responsibilities to be fulfilled to set myself up for a week of no responsibility is bigger than JLo’s ass. What is with that? Where do all of these sudden urgent needs come from?

Whatever. T minus 3 days until whiskey tours, accents, and castles and shit. I must go watch Braveheart to prepare…


Visual Moments in Motherhood May 24, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 8:10 pm
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It’s been awhile since I’ve done a VMIM and frankly it’s because I lost interest in the images of mothers out there. But today, I happened upon my own bathroom and thought the below pic was a fitting image that sums up motherhood. Even when you are alone in the bathroom, you are not alone. Someone is always monitoring you, even if it is a creepy cabbage patch doll. It’s just a little reminder from my daughter that wherever I go, she will be there.


The Pause Button May 16, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 8:36 pm
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I don't even like cats and this makes me kinda teary.

So I started a dietary cleanse today. It is three weeks long, has me drinking two of my three meals and peeing every hour. Supposedly the first week is hell, which I should know more about tomorrow. Being an adult is the shits, I swear.

Thank God there is no medical reason to cleanse my soul. Then the world would really be in trouble. I suppose that’s what you Catholics call pennance or some shit like that. The rest of us cleanse our bodies instead.In case you are curious, I will avoid the colonic. No one need to feel that clean, in my opinion.

Perhaps the less than 12 hours my body has been undergoing a cleanse, has also started to make me emotional, in a sentimental sort of way, not a digestional one. I was looking at my daughter today and wished there was some way I could capture how she is right now, so I could show it to her later, or so that I could revisit it when I am sad.

This may go back to the whole too-smart-to-be-happy thing, but every day that passes I realize is the last day Sofia will be that way. She will never be three years, five months and six days again, and it is so tragically sad. Worse than dying kittens or three-legged dogs, or America’s Next Top Model.

I have felt this way so many times watching her grow up, and probably like many of you with your kids I’ve spent at least the first year of her life chronicling every facial expression and quirky body position and silly moment. Still, she grows up and moves on, forcing me to do the same.

I guess I have to keep learning to appreciate the moments in the moment. Or, stop feeding her so much.


Oh yeah. Mom. May 4, 2011

Mother’s Day is coming up and before you bitch and complain about having to hang out with your old lady or drop coin on a present for her, you should consider how I suffer on this day–I have 3 mothers to buy for what with Step-mom and birth-mom and mom-in-law. I can’t get past a holiday like this without dropping at least $100 and that is on the cheap!

In my hustle and bustle to buy cards, have the kid scribble in them, find a stamp and order affordable, somewhat personalized gifts that won’t end up in a donation pile, I mentioned my process to a multitude of friends whose response was, “Oh. It’s Mother’s Day?”

Apparently I have been far too good of a daughter. Almost none of my friends do more than a card or phone call for their moms on Mother’s Day. To which I think–damn, how did I miss the memo? To which I also think, what a bunch of ungrateful bastards!

On the one hand I get it–it’s a pain. On the other hand, even if your mom was a shitty mom, my guess is you were still an inconvenience yourself at one time. Be it squeezing you out of the old birth canal and ruining a carefree slutty lifestyle or being a terror as a toddler, or a horrible teenager–your mom probably put up with shit from you at some point–the least you could do is cook a breakfast or put some thought into a trinket. At the very least, shitty mom taught you some valuable life lessons. At the best, if you had a decent mom who tried hard, royal treatment is in order (just think of how much you saved on therapy!)

Plus, whatever effort you put forth for your mother will be the same put forth for you from your kids. I don’t know about you, but I could use at least a day every year where my kid thought about making me happy–hopefully more!

Wow. That was quite a soap box. Now go make your mom a home-made card.

Deliver some goods like your mom delivered you!


How to not have sex April 25, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues,Vagina — Scribbling Dame @ 10:02 pm
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A few things have crossed my “desk” lately that have made me fairly surprised that some people in this world can even get laid (Charlie Sheen for example). But seriously, I can think of a few things that really don’t lend themselves well to recreational romping or for you romantics out there, the sexin’. (Note: this is written from a hetero perspective, but this may also apply to other orientations.)

1. Crying either during or immediately after sex. This is generally a good tactic when, say, trying to get out of a ticket, or guilting a man into many a task, but it ultimately fails  in the bedroom. It reminds one that in fact, women have feelings, and we all know men don’t want to think about women’s feelings in the bedroom, unless of course she is willing to describe what she is feeling from a tactile perspective. Very loudly.

2. The vagina makeover. I am not saying I have done this, but like with their hair or their clothes, many a lady I have known has decided to “mix it up” a bit down there–either going bald eagle or perhaps just a change in grooming design or color. Don’t mix it up too much–he was clearly on board with the old look and no one wants to see an “experimental” look on a va-jayjay. A five o’clock shadow is not attractive unless it’s on George Clooney.

3. If you are trying to conceive, stop trying to conceive. Nothing will kill the potential for your partner to put the kids in the pool sooner than a measurement of the exact moment in time and temperature that your vagina is open for business. This is not to say that you don’t plan for the rendez-vous, just don’t share the full itinerary. All he needs to know is the destination, which is so easy to communicate even unintelligent animals comprehend.

4. Do not come up with your own theories about sex–even if they are based in scientific fact. 1) It won’t get you laid and 2) you’ll lose your job as in the case of Dr. lazar Greenfield who recently wrote an editorial about how women who ingest semen are happier. No shit: read it here. My favorite quote is “So there’s a deeper bond between men and women than St. Valentine would have suspected, and now we know there’s a better gift for that day than chocolates.” What a cunt.

5. Don’t give your kids a fucked up name like Lazar. It will ensure they do not get any action.


P.S. It is really hard to find pictures of people NOT having sex on the internet.


Maternal Euphemisms April 17, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 10:11 pm
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There are a lot of terms and phrases out there that are used with pregnancy and parenthood that just don’t quite accurately capture the phenomenon at hand.

Some examples;

“losing the baby” For obvious reasons this came up for me a lot in the past week. Losing a baby sounds much more pleasant. It has a Britney Spears “oops I did it again” feeling. Silly mommy! She lost the baby!

“terrible twos”  Anyone who has a kid past the age of 2 knows a few things about this one–the first is that it usually starts before two, and the second is that it lasts well beyond the age of two. But, of course if people said it was the “terrible pre-5s” it may put a damper on people’s libidinous desire to multiply.

“withchild” Yes, the child is always with her.

“baby bump” sounds way cuter than “stomach skin stretching,” or “can’t see my toes no mo’.” They may as well call it “one piece swimsuit forever.”

This is not quite how I looked when I was "crowning." But close.

“episiotomy” sounds like a new spa treatment or a girl’s night out activity. WRONG!

“disability” when referring to childbirth has always struck me as an irony, because of course you find your body, spirit and mind doing more than it ever has before. But, whatever keeps the checks comin.’

“crowning” of course sounds like quite an honor and a regal task, but is, shall we say, not for the faint-hearted.

I suppose it makes sense to have more delicate, pleasant sounding terms for these things since the alternative is usually too much brutal honesty that will scare the shit out of people. There is a reason hormones kick in during pregnancy and motherhood–it is to buffer the realities of the hardest thing you’ll ever try and do in your life. Those of us that are in the know can just silently chuckle to ourselves…


Uteran Fail April 12, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues,Vagina — Scribbling Dame @ 6:27 pm
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Well let me just warn you that if you are reading this week for a laugh, you may want to keep looking. Unless it just happens to come out that way, this post is not likely to be funny. Just wanted to warn you in case you are looking for a laugh, which I think is pretty nice of me to give you the heads up instead of just posting a depressing post and you reading it thinking you got robbed of your funny.

I guess this is kind of funny so far, but don’t let me mislead you. Since I last posted (two weeks, I know) I both found out I was pregnant (Yay!) and then miscarried (boo). So, as usual, the best way for me to process feelings is publicly and unabashedly. I am not good at keeping secrets.

So, I have never had a miscarriage before even though 30% of women apparently do. It is a bizarre experience because, at least in my case, while it was happening, I wasn’t totally sure anything was wrong and it was unclear until test results confirmed that the minor bleeding was not in fact spotting, but my body “self-aborting.” Well, why the hell would myself do such a thing? I certainly did not give it permission.

It also seems liked a really fucked up scenario since I honestly forgot that I was trying to get pregnant, until I was pregnant then got all excited, then wasn’t pregnant again. The weirdest part is not knowing how to deal with it. You can’t really talk about it because you never really announced your pregnancy. And, it is simultaneously the worst thing that ever happened to you yet you go on with your life almost as if nothing happened–and so does everyone else of course. Unfortunately we learned the hard way not to tell our daughter she’s going to be a big sister until it’s a “sure thing.” The hardest part was explaining to a three-year old that the baby in mommy’s belly went away.

Not surprisingly, since guilt and motherhood are always holding hands, I started replaying in my mind things I should have done differently–maybe it was my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have traveled on that business trip or forgotten those prenatal vitamins that one day.  Was I too stressed? Did I eat too much sugar? Am I too old?

The good news is that I have so many friends who have miscarried (multiple times) and still ended up with healthy babies, so I see firsthand the possibility of life after miscarriage.

So I guess I just go back and make another one. It only took a year the first time.


The Downside of Cute and Smart March 28, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues,Vagina — Scribbling Dame @ 8:50 pm
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Nerdy wizard girl--perfect.

I recently had a girlfriend tell me I was too smart to be happy. I immediately knew it to be true, and I simultaneously found it depressing. I over-think every fucking thing. I have to deconstruct my happiness.  If it weren’t for blogging I’d probably implode. I can recall plenty a time in my life when I wished to be a smarter than dumb, and dumber than smart, particularly in my younger days when I got dumped three times in a row for being too smart.

While I like to think I am cute, too, this post isn’t about me. It has occurred to me that there is also a downside to having a cute and smart kid. I will start with smart. Smart kids know how to manipulate and who best to manipulate. My father-in-law stands no chance against my three-year old. All she has to do is bat an eyelash and the world is hers on a platter (or more specifically gelato when she was one year old). My husband and I were both wishing she was a little more dense the other day when we told her no more movies and she went and got a DVD out of its case, opened the DVD player, loaded the damn thing, and then started it. She asked me six months ago what migration is! Which, that’s actually fine but I am worried about what she’ll be asking me six months from now!

A little too cute and too smart. Danger zone!

So now we get to cute. I ran into a coworker today who just met my daughter last week and said “she is so cute I would have given her anything she wanted!” Immediately I heard those words coming out of store vendor’s mouths, teenage boy mouths, and club bouncer mouths. I can hear myself doing an internal slow motion “Noooooooo.”

And maybe this is why a granddaughter is a mother’s best revenge. I can already anticipate all the ways she will use her brains against me and her looks to gain advantages that I don’t want her to have.

This post probably proves that I am too smart to be happy, now that I think about it.



Duh. March 1, 2011

Filed under: Lessons in Parenting,Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 10:50 pm
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It was a busy week for the stupid. So busy that I can’t even blog about everything stupid that occurred that I happened upon. Here are a few bullet points in case you haven’t remembered to participate in society or that thing called reading:

A UK gourmet ice-cream store had to re-call a flavor made with breast milk. They charged $22 a cup! Do I smell a new home-based business mommies?

Rachel Ray actually had a segment of makeovers (on women) at the American Kennel Club dog show. The judges were confused by all those hot bitches.

Charlie Sheen–enough said.

But the one that makes me want to blog is this article from The NY Daily News about a UK study (tax-payer funded) that found that young couples without children are the happiest. I should also mention that this study cost almost $80M.

For free I will tell you why that’s a no fucking brainer: because young couples without children have no work to do! They are no longer single so they don’t have the physical upkeep and required socializing that single folks have to maintain. And without kids all they have to do is keep a job and not piss off their spouse. Easy peesey.

The cruel irony of life is that these lazy shits don’t even know how good they have it, and they are probably pining away for children.

I also saw a TedTalk recently about the general decline of happiness after having children, which I actually appreciated and recommend you check out. (I should note that the happiness levels go up as your child gets older–so don’t go killing yourself.)

But really, is this surprising to anyone? That having children makes a person generally less happy than their pre-child lifestyle?

I can agree with this–generally speaking. My day to day life is less happy and relaxed as it was pre-Sofia. When before I wanted to have more money, it is now imperative that I plan for the future. Before I might feel stressed, now I feel crushingly overwhelmed. Before I might want a date with my husband, now I just wish we could stay awake for a movie together. Compared to our early days of marriage, my average happiness is lower.

It is hard fucking work to be any kind of a decent parent and there are no breaks.

But I am a better person for it. There is nothing like this challenge that has made me hold myself to higher standards of being, and I will continue to learn more in this process than from any of my degrees or from any of the mentors I will have in my life. And I will get to participate in this other person’s life and development in a way that no one else gets to. I consider myself privileged for it and I love my daughter completely.

My husband’s answer to this was interesting. He said his happiness levels didn’t go down, but he redefined what happiness was. Which is to say he cheated. 🙂

And for only $40M, England, I will tell you why it’s worth it, even if it means giving up your young happy couple life. See how giving I am?

Lest we forget...




This is a recording February 22, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 9:44 pm
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Remember when this meant you were sporty--not ancient?


I just heard a story on NPR about this uber-geek who collects 8 tracks and opened a museum of 8 tracks. It apparently all started with The Beatles White Album. The guy has 3000 8 tracks and was talking about how he wanted to collect them because they are the last tangible (i.e. non-digital) musical medium, since the MP3 is now the norm.

This got me thinking of all the relics of recording devices and musical vehicles that Sofia will definitely make fun of me for even knowing about, let alone having used–the CD, the cassette tape, the Walkman. I am embarrassed just to think of my first ever CD–and I won’t tell you readers. Consider the fact that I write about my vagina on this blog and I am too embarrassed to tell you this directly although I have hidden it in my post. It should give you a sense of how bad the choice was.

So this whole 8 track thing got me to this idea–if I could record the top 5 things I constantly say to my child, like a broken record, I could probably add another year’s worth of breath to my life.

1. Brush your teeth

2. Get in bed

3. Wash your hands

4. I love you

5. It’s really a tie between “get in your carseat” and “put on your coat.” I will let the moment decide.

I am thinking this could also be good for husbands/partners. Now I am off to decide what to do with that extra year.


You should buy this. It's a USB inside of a cassette case. So hipster.




You might look thinner, but you will also look stupider February 1, 2011

Before any of you comment, I am using the word “stupider” ironically. I am fully aware it’s not a word.

Okay. Now that we got that out of the way…

I always find it hilarious that people who are obsessed with losing weight, something you might say is connected to vanity, will often do the most ridiculous looking things to lose weight.  In order to permanently look good, they will temporarily look like a complete ass.

Almost all weight loss infomercials and exercise products reinforce this. Remember the thighmaster? Ridiculous. Or, a more current example: the shake weight. These are items that no one looks good using, which is why they are on infomercials–so fat people who don’t leave their house can use their embarrassing near-sexual exercise gear at home like good Americans.

I recently happened upon a segment from Good Morning America that featured an exercise regime for   new moms called “The Stroller Stride.” I have a problem with this for a couple of reasons; first, if there is one moment to enjoy being gelatinous it is pregnancy and new motherhood. Let’s give ourselves a break already! Secondly, it defies the decency of doing your stupid-looking exercises at home away from public scrutiny. I don’t need to elaborate. Watch for yourself.

I can tell you they had to use fake babies because no right-minded kid wants to be seen pushed around by these crazies.


Worst Case Scenario Preschool Decisions January 24, 2011

Week 2 of complete overwhelm over the preschool decision process. As I dig in the trenches for all the options, I envision all the worst case scenarios from each of the choices. Since someone should enjoy this process, it may as well be you, so I have outlined my internal dialogue of crazy that goes with the options on the table. Bon appetite!

Catholic School:

So my husband went to Catholic School for most of his life. He was an altar boy even, and he turned out okay. Ironically, he thinks he may be atheist. But Catholic school for girls is a  whole other story. In my narrative of completely insane and paranoid mother self-talk, I think of three things when I think of Catholic school for Sofia: The first is whore. All the biggest sluts I knew growing up went to Catholic school. Brittney Spears built a whole career on that expectation.  The second is repressed sexuality. So, if she’s not going to be a whore then she’ll probably be a totally repressed secret masturbator who is afraid of her own vagina. Everything in moderation people. Lastly, and this is perhaps the scariest–religious! What if she becomes a Jesus freak and starts gay-hating? What if she becomes that wretched Mandi Moore character from that movie “Saved?” What if she becomes the girl who tells the Juno’s of the world to consider the fetus’ fingernails? It’s too much for me to fathom…

Montessori, Reggio, Waldorf salads:

First any pedagogical philosophy that sounds like a salad or salad ingredient is already suspect in my mind. Second, while I like art and creativity and freedom of thought, I know that none of that shit pays the bills. The last thing I want is to pay A LOT of money for my kid to become a hippy-dippy granola freak who wants to talk about energy cycles and organic gardening. Plus, what if she asks to wear Birkenstocks? I have to draw the line somewhere! Birkenstocks are a sin against fashion–at any time of year, with or without socks. Seconded in offense only by Crocs. My kid will not wear Crocs.

Sigh. And the search continues.


The Future Hipster Training Academy January 18, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 10:58 pm
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Ugh. We are officially starting our search for preschools. An impossible fucking task for the following reasons;

1)All the best schools are expensive and I am not made of money, though I make a very respectable income.

2) For some reason all the best schools are under the impression that a “full” day is 8:30-3. I fucking wish.

3) I am not into this namby pamby “we work completely in response to your child’s educational interests” approach. One school I looked at even highlighted that it focuses on emotional harmony and spiritual well being!

4) In addition to high tuition costs, they almost all require volunteer hours from the parents. Doesn’t really sound very voluntary.

I would like a school designed for an up-and-coming hipster. I don’t want something too pretentious or overly rigorous, but I also don’t want something too relaxed and unstructured.

Dude. What method is this and how much is it gonna cost me?

I want my kid to get dirty and do crazy Pollock style artwork and then spend the next hour on a computer and reading books. She needs to be able to do math and then turn around and take artistic pictures. I want her to be smart enough to impress at cocktail parties and get into the college and jobs she wants, but still have the self-sufficiency of a blue-collared single mother. She needs confidence and physical activity but I also want her to be able to sit in a chair for an hour and contemplate religion. I want her to write ridiculous stories. I want her to eat healthy but also know what brie is. I want her to play outside with chickens. I want her to sing and dance–the more indie the better. I want her to have enough freedom to be herself and exude her wonderful three-year-old energy while also learning the discipline it will take her to succeed more structured environments. And, since she’s a girl,I want her to know that she can do anything she wants just as well as anyone else. I don’t want anyone putting out her fire.

Oh, and I would like all this for 10K or less per year, four days a week, from 7:30-6.

Are you out there Future Hipster Training Academy?


Baby Dream Killers January 12, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues,Vagina — Scribbling Dame @ 10:09 pm
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It’s human nature to think in terms of grass is greener, but have any of you noticed that while you are trying to conceive, it suddenly seems that every asshole who looks at their partner gets knocked up?

And by assholes I mean beloved friends and family. (Kisses!)

Seriously though, it is annoying. The first couple of announcements are okay–we all know we are having sex with our partners and babies tend to go along with that. But I was talking with a girlfriend today who has had no less than 10 friends have a baby in the last year while she is trying to conceive. That is just a big middle finger from the universe if you ask me. It’s an incredibly bizarre phenomenon. It happens with single women and marriage also.

On the outside, most of us are gracious friends and we will of course attend showers, supply pickles and whatever other duties will make us remain good friends, but internally let’s be real–whiny hater brat comes out and says, “But it’s MY turn! You are stealing my vaginal thunder! You didn’t even try that hard!”

This phenomenon only adds to the already predominant trying-to-conceive dilemma, prevalent in all things motherhood: it is not as easy as we were raised to think it is. Sometimes the old in-and-out does the trick but for most of us these days, since we are conceiving later in life, we have to be more intentional. After only a year of trying with no success, the medical profession labels you as “infertile.” If you are over 35, your pregnancy is “geriatric.” There are few other processes we will encounter in our lives that are less forgiving than parenthood in all it’s stages.

I always come around and try to look on the bright side–after whining internally and then blogging about it of course.  Parenthood will happen when it is meant to and how it is meant to. Also, “failing” to conceive is probably one of the only things in life that provides a pretty nice consolation prize. If failure was always so awesome, who’d want to achieve?

Get along little doggies.


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