Movin' & Shakin'

Yesterday, Amelie asked me when the hamsters were coming home from hamster school.

Damn it!

I told her, "When they get their diplomas!" And, again, she asked me if the whole thing was real. I was driving, so luckily I didn't have to look her in the eye. I just sort of waved my hand in the air, dismissing it and exclaimed, "Of course it is!"

Then it got really quiet back there. So I did what any good mom would do, and turned up Lady Gaga nice and loud.

There goes my mother of the year award.

Our move date is 3 weeks from tomorrow. I'm dreading it, even though the place is nicer than where we are right now. It's a two-story town home, and the master bedroom is larger. We get our own front door with a stoop, which is pretty cool. I have big plans to decorate for every holiday.

I know it's going to be a great change. We're moving there for the better school system and the rent comes in $100 below our budget. Don't even ask how much it is. For most of you, our rent in L.A. will be the equivalent to two mortgages combined anywhere else.

But, it is what it is.

I'm currently priming all the walls that Tom and I so painstakingly painted two years ago. It got me thinking, maybe I shouldn't paint the walls in the next place. And then I thought, no, I like design waaaay too much to leave the walls plain white. What I'll probably end up doing is painting bold stripes  on one wall as an accent, and leave the other's white. Kind of like this:

Wish me luck!





 

Hamster School

Everyone has pets during some point in their life. When I was a kid, we lived out in the middle of nowhere, and stray cats and dogs were always finding their way to our house. At one point we had a whole litter of ten adorable puppies. This made going out the front door a real treat. As soon as those lil' round pups heard the door open, they'd run over, in an excited frenzy. It was so awesome.

My brothers and I would lie down in the grass, whistle, and wait for a million puppy kisses. I don't know if I'll ever experience that again, but I'm sure glad I had the opportunity to feel all that puppy love.

It was great for me. I didn't have to buy them food, or worry about them having heart worms, or if they got hurt.

My parents did.

Which brings me to the title of this posting, "Hamster School." I had this bright idea six months ago to get Amelie a pair of hamsters. She loves animals a lot, so it seemed natural that she ought to have one. In a perfect world, she'd have gotten a puppy, as those are her favorite animals of all. But, she settled with hamsters.

When we got them, they were the size of quarters. Literally. Their breed is small and SUPER fast. I'm talking like, lightening-fast. Once, one of them got loose in the house for three days. And when I finally found her under the stove in the kitchen, she zipped out so quickly that it scared the shit out of me! It also made holding them pretty impossible, which was the point of getting them for Amelie in the first place. Poor kid never got to hold them.

Anyway, the pair of "hammies" were sisters and fought constantly over food. Are you kidding me? There was plenty of food.

But, this is what hamsters do, apparently. They play tug-of-war with nuts, poop and pee everywhere, build large, unstable nests and climb the walls at night because they are nocturnal and pissed off.

One day, while talking to my Aunt Sherry on the phone, we had this idea to "Send them away to Hammy High School." Is it real? No. We'd like to think it is though. Sure sounds fun. We even talked about all the things they'd learn at school, like hamster manners, socialization, and getting haircuts at "Hamster Cuts." We had it all figured out.

Now, I just had to broach the subject with Amelie. So, this is how it went.

Me, "Amelie, what would you think about sending the hammies away to a special school? They could learn new things, make new friends."

Amelie, "Is it for real?"

Me, "Yes! They will get hamster backpacks, and sleep in bunk beds. It'll be great! So, what do you think?"

Amelie, "Tell me more!"

It was decided that the best thing for the hamsters would be to send them to Hammy High. It just felt right. So, I called the Dean at the school, also known as "Craigslist, " and away they went, to a very nice family with a teenage girl who could take care of them much better than Amelie.

I feel...a little guilty though. I mean...one day she's going to realize what I've done, right? How long can I keep this up? She's going to kill me when she figures it out! I'm a little worried.

I hope she doesn't send me to Hamster School too.

Bullies Be Bitches

 A few weeks ago something disturbing happened on a park playground. What happened was, three girls from ages 6-10 were very mean to my little girl. My mom senses are always on high alert for mean girls because when I was a kid, lots of girls treated me like shit. I'll be damned if I'm going to let the brats be mean to my baby.

Hell. No.

Tom and I were watching Amelie at the park try to make friends...but unfortunately she's at a weird phase where she's becoming extremely shy. I felt the need to help her, so I found a group of girls climbing on metal bars. They seemed harmless enough, so I whispered to Amelie, "Hey, go play with those little girls." Amelie looked at me and said, "But what do I say?" To which I replied, "Ask them if you can play with them."

And so she went, slowly, proceeding with much caution, to the clique of girls. I heard her ask the girl if she could play with them, and the little girl looked at her with disdain and snottily retorted, "No! Go play somewhere else!"

What the fuck?

Doth my ears deceive me? Are girls becoming bitches even EARLIER?

The little girl looked up at me, realized I was Amelie's mom, and tried to cover up her bad behavior by saying, "Well, I guess you can climb with us" and rolled her eyes.

I went and sat down, unsure of what had happened. I decided to keep my eye on these kids, to make certain my lil' sweets wasn't getting bullied.

Sure enough, there they went, the clan of three girls, running away from my Amelie as if she had the plague. They hid behind benches, snickering, watching Amelie appear lost and disoriented and ALONE. Tom assured me, "Oh, they're just playing tag."

Warning: Explicit material to follow!

FUCK TAG. They're not fucking playing fucking TAG. They're fucking being BITCHES is what they're fucking doing! And to my kid? FUCK THAT.

I jumped up from the bench, with my mother-claws out, ready for battle. I started yelling and pointing on the playground, asking Amelie if she understood what was going on. Sadly, she did not. She doesn't understand the cruelty people maliciously inflict upon one another for fun.

I explained to her in the nicest and simplest form possible, that there are some people who are mean, and will not appreciate how wonderful you are. She looked confused.

"But why?" she asked.

I so wanted to answer, "Because they're ASSES, that's why!" I decided to keep it PC.

"Um, because they aren't smart enough to appreciate you. Something is wrong with them, not you. And you know what? You should feel sorry for them, but you should never let them push you around. If there's ever anyone, anywhere who treats you like this, you don't run after them trying to make them like you. You go find people who are nice, instead, because you're an amazing person."

That's exactly what we did. I found a little girl who was playing alone, and seemed painfully shy. She averted eye contact when I applauded her monkey-bar climbing skills.

"What's your name, and how did you get so good at climbing?!" I asked.

I introduced them both, and told the little girl (who's name was Vanessa) that she should teach Amelie to climb as fast as she could. And away they went.

Meanwhile, the little clan of mean girls got chewed out by their father. I guess I made such a big stink about it on the playground, that he realized what they were doing. He was speaking spanish to them, and luckily I had Tom there to translate.

Dad, "You never run away from little friends! We don't do that! That's mean. How would you feel if you were all alone on the playground and someone did this to you?!"

Mean Girl 1, "She was being mean to us!"

Dad, "No she wasn't! What if she was baby Jesus! Would you do that to baby Jesus?!"

Oh DAMN! He done pulled the "Baby Jesus Card" on their asses! If I had a gold medal, I'd have given it to him right then and there. Well done!

I'm scared I'm going to encounter this situation again. Not scared for me, but scared for the bully. I will unleash my fury in a fit of atomic bomb rage. Heads will roll across deserts igniting in volcanic FIRE. My razor-sharp tongue will annihilate you!

I'm not sure the PTA is going to welcome me with open arms this year.

I Have Stuff To Say

I don't know why, but I woke up this morning thinking, "I have a lot of stuff to say. I should go post a blog about all the stuff I have to say." So, here I am.

Next time a Republican tries to argue with me I will just say: VAGINA.

That'll teach 'em!

But really, I don't follow politics as closely as some die-hard people I know. I generally know what's going on, but I don't focus a lot of energy towards it. I have other shit to do, and I can't sit around watching Mitt Romney getting locked out of his little tour bus. Okay, maybe I did see that one.

What other crap can I talk about? Oh! It's Father's Day weekend, folks! Tom got his present early this year (he usually does because I'm horrible at keeping surprises.) Guess what lucky ol' Tom got?

AN iPHONE!

Yay! It's his first iPhone ever. When he got it, and started playing with it, he looked at me with big sad eyes and said, "This phone is so cool."

And then I said, "Why the sad face?"

Tom, "Now I feel embarrassed that I was always showing off my old Android. I feel like the retarded kid in class. Always showing people and then them humoring me with 'Wowww, that's reallllly nicccce Tom."

Me, "Huh?"

Tom, "I'm so happy now."

Me, "Yay."

The TV

 Duuuuude.

I just saw the gnarliest car chase on channel 9. I've never seen anything like it before! It blew my mind! Amelie kept getting in front of the TV to play with toys and I kept yelling, "Get outta the way, kid!" This is my entertainment on Friday night, yo! MOVE IT.

The eery thing is, they always get in front of it right when something super-cool is about to happen. It's like they have a sixth sense.

So, what's the deal with kids getting in front of the TV anyway? It drives me nuts! She has a bedroom which we painstakingly painted bright purple and hung up glittery, pepto-colored trinkets to lure her in. But where does she want to go? IN FRONT OF MY TV.

The only thing that makes this okay, is that she is a sweetheart. Yesterday, while I had her home, I fell asleep on my bed while she put makeup on me. I woke up looking like a hot hussy. But, I also found that she had carefully removed my glasses, put them on the nightstand for safe-keeping, and draped a blanket on me.

Thanks for being awesome, Leedle.

NOW GET OUTTA THE WAY OF MY TV!