Tag Archives: humor

Pseudonyms for the young’uns

There seem to be two types of blogger parents on the internet: those who use pseudonyms for their kids, and those who don’t.

I think the only problem I have with the pseudonymers is that they inspire me to thoughtful reflections such as: Oh crap, are my kids in mortal danger because I’ve used their first names on the internet???!!!

Hope no one learns my secret identity!

Hope no one learns my secret identity!

My father is really big on privacy. This adds to my general paranoia. “Never tell anybody anything ever about anything! Less than that, if possible!” is the philosophy he raised me on. And this is BEFORE widespread use of the internet. This is just your average run of the mill caveman safety protocol, as far as he’s concerned. “What’s my name? None of your g.d. freakin’ business, you weirdo pervert! Jerk! Get away from me!”

And then I go ahead and say things like, “And Hank, age 4, dug a tunnel across our property line to bury and detonate secret fire crackers.” Or whatever crazy thing he’s done lately.  “Gwen, age 2, has stolen the neighbor’s gnome and has repainted its nose a flaming purple after removing its ears.”

I hear sirens at this very moment.

No one will ever recognize me in these shades!

No one will ever recognize me in these shades!

And the pseudonyms that bloggers use are always so painfully cutely adorable. “Munchkin scrumpkin jolly baby squid” or some such. Good lord, I already came up with names for these people, do I have to do it again?

Do these pseudonymers think that DSS or CPS, or whatever acronym the Child Police are using these days, has access to their blog? Because if this is true, I guess I’m genuinely screwed.

“Olivia, age 9, lined up Daddy’s beer cans on the fence so she and her friends could bet pennies on who could knock down the most by throwing empty shotgun shells at them.”

Why is the phone ringing?

Olivia is reduced to wearing a disguise to protect what's left of her privacy...

And if the kids hate that I’ve been talking about them and revealing their secret superhero identity, they can always change their names.

Like I did. Like my husband did.

Like my oldest did.

Names are a dime a dozen. My little petunia fluffy bunny nut.

The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.

(Oh, crap, I forgot to change the names, didn’t I? “Go see who’s at the door, uber-cutey-love!”)

"Who's that trip-trappin' over my bridge?" Garth in battle helmet guards the family estate

Diaper Guilt

As someone who considers herself a natural, alternative, bordering on the hippie kind of Mama and homemaker, my guilt over using disposable diapers has been excruciating, but, hey, since my last child is showing signs of potty training, it’s almost over.

On Ghost Mountain, Lompico, California, circa 1990 -- Back in my seriously hippie days

I lodge no complaint against the holier-than-thou attitude of the cloth diaperers. I know they are in the right, fulfilling yet another of the requirements of the “Natural Living” standards that gets you in the club. I completely ignore the ECers (“elimination communication,” where apparently you follow your barebutt, legwarmer-wearing child around with a bucket all day) since who even wants to reach that kind of saintliness. I’m only human, after all.

But how many of them have gone totally carless for nine years, like I did? Relying solely on a bike with bike trailer or buses, whether rain, shine, gale force winds… no matter what? (And yes, this was with two, then three kids, not as a single childless person!)

Yeah, I thought so. They toted their righteous poop catchers  home in some kind of earth-polluting monstrosity. (And hey, even the electric cars are tied to resource depletion, so don’t even start with me!) My near-decade of pedal power has to count for something.

I did try cloth diapering for about three months with my third child. This was during the two years I didn’t have a dryer, but had to either use the clothesline in the back yard or, when the Oregon weather would piddle for days on end, I’d have to use wooden racks, shower rods, the backs of chairs, etc. (Yeah, and how many have done THAT? So see, I do have some karma in the bank…)

After the three months it just sucked unbelievably bad. Like not even worth being in your lousy club bad. Maybe if I’d had the money to invest in the fluffy-bunz-smooshy-cozy-ne’er-do-leak covers and the pre-fold-half-caf-double-back-flip-twisted inserts, it would have been a true joy. But with some old hand-me-downs and some stuff I found at the thrift store being the only diapering system within my financial reach, it was beyond craptastic.

So as I begin to wonder which will be the last pack of evil throw-away pee soppers I’ll ever buy, I can also feel myself relax into the possibility of being a real, 100% grade A certified natural human, once I’ve shed this terrible addiction to convenience.

You’ll have to excuse me, now, I think I smell something untoward that’s gonna put another black spot on my record…

Compost Buckets With Flair

Our Compost Bucket -- "Party Mix - For People You Hate"

My husband decided to customize our compost bucket. He’s a good one for covering all contingencies, such as finding oneself burdened with undesirable company. Just offer them a delightful assortment of rotting lemon rinds, coffee grounds and slimy egg shells with an ever-so-delicate sprinkling of half-chewed toast!

Reminds me of when I was a kid and my father would just happen to take out the compost bucket while I was eating dinner (my parents like to pretend they’re European and eat at 9 or 10 o’clock at night, but I, being comfortable with my Americanness, preferred to eat at the more civilized hour of 5 o’clock, so it was always me dining solo.) He’d sneak up behind me and waft the bucket under my  nose, inquiring politely, “You want some of this?” then chuckle as I squealed in horror.

Come to think of it, my husband and my father have pretty much the same sense of humor.

I’m not going to extrapolate the available information and consider the possibility that my father saw me as an unwelcome guest. After all, there was nothing written on his bucket.

But if you’re visiting my house and you think my husband’s about to take out the compost… you might want to brace yourself.

My Little Bookworm

What a marvelous feeling, the unfathomable pride, the unmitigated joy, to walk into a room and find your two-year-old engrossed in a book!

You watch for a moment, quietly, from the doorway, the birds chirping gleefully, the bunnies hopping gaily, the happiness overflowing.

This is what it’s all been for!

This is the moment that makes life worthwhile!

How could the world be any sweeter?

And then you realize…

She had to dig through an entire shelf of books to find the one she wanted!!!

There ain’t no rest for the wicked, I tell you! There is no reward without a ji-normous mess following close behind!!!

(Or did she READ all those books… Hmmm… maybe we can spin this back the other way… He he… yes, she is a genius, not a slob… I feel so much better about picking up all 748 books…)

Publicize Yourself!

I was raised to be modest. Keep your skirt covering your knees and that sort of thing. Don’t toot your own horn.

But here we are in the age of information and networking and I’m supposed to be tooting away, skirt hiked up revealingly.

I recently had an interesting discussion with myself on the subject which didn’t help get my name out there but did land me a head writer position here at Wise Way Tribe:

Do you “like” your own stuff?

Well hell yeah, I love my stuff. I’m the best damn blogger west of the Pecos.

We’re east of the Pecos.

If you started flying west from the Pecos, you’d eventually end up here, and you wouldn’t pass any better bloggers before you got here. Besides, I know a really great blogger in Tennessee.

Yes but do you publicly “like” yourself?

I was taught that was best done in private.

No but do you hit the “like” button so that everyone knows that you think you’re all that and a sack of chips? Or do you wait patiently for someone else to come along and decide that you are, indeed, a tasty tidbit, and hopefully take the time to push your buttons for you.

Again, I think that sort of thing oughta be done in private…

Well do you “+1” yourself?

I really only have time for the one blog right now.

Have you ever “stumbled upon” yourself?

Occasionally I can’t find quite the right word I’m looking for…

Do you “tweet” yourself?

That sounds painful.

Linked In?

Well I’ve got to have the cord plugged into that doo-hickey or I’m not online.

Do you Yahoo?

You know sometimes I just write something so doggone spectacular it makes me feel like saying just that. How did you know?

It doesn’t sound like you expose yourself much. You should publicly share much more than you do.

Again, my mother really wouldn’t approve.

Self-promotion is where it’s at, man!

That’s true. And while I’m at it, I’ll give myself a raise as well!

So this is how I ended up as head writer. And since I don’t have any budget for paying myself, let alone giving myself a raise, I’ve decided to reward myself with a piece of chocolate for every blog post.

This blog may not make me famous, but at least they treat their writers right.

Excuse me now while I go devour a Special Dark.

New Project?

I had a dear friend over for lunch yesterday and she cooed over my food in her usual, sweet way. She told me I should write a cookbook, and so I ran to print her out a copy of my “Breakfast Cookies” recipe, I guess to prove not only to her but to myself that I actually AM capable of writing a recipe.

Being a stay-at-home mother makes me at times somewhat desperate for acknowledgment that, yes, I COULD be a contributing member of society if these short people would stop yelling at me all day and frying my thoughts before I can even recognize what they are!

I made a list of all my favorite dishes to make last night, and I made notes of the possible stories/topics that could go with each. You see, this cookbook’s gimmick (because I know they all need one) is humor and anecdote – each recipe comes with some tidbits from my life (the interesting bits, certainly) and a couple of laughs.

Can I really pull it off? Could I really get it published? Am I even funny?

As for getting it published, I wondered, what if I used one of those sites where you can buy the e-book? Would it be possible to sell them one by one? Charge maybe 50 cents a piece, have a free sample, then people could buy just the ones they wanted? And once they bought one and laughed (or enjoyed the food!) they might think, hey, one more! And pretty soon, they’d have bought the whole book anyway!?

Here’s my Breakfast Cookie recipe, on the house. Maybe I’m trying to prove myself to you, too…

Breakfast Cookies

Yep, you heard right. Mama says you can eat these bad boys for breakfast. I’d call ‘em “Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner Cookies” but you should probably have a real meal once in a while.

But I say, and no one’s ever argued with me, that if you look at what is in these cookies and compare it with your average breakfast cereal, you can’t nutritionally afford NOT to eat these for breakfast. And midday snack. And of course, dessert. But for heaven’s sake, try to work an apple or banana into your day somewhere.

In case you’re new to healthy food, I’ll run down the list of ingredients and why they are okay for breakfast:

3 Eggs – Hello! Is there a better breakfast food? Protein, iron, etc. It’s in there.
1½ cups Oats – Oatmeal may be the closest contender to eggs for perfect breakfast
food, and you’re eating them both. Have another cookie.
3 cups Whole Wheat Flour – There’s some serious fiber action for ya. (Feel free to substitute some white flour if you think your kids will get suspicious of the healthy hue your cookies will take on!)
½ to 1 cup of Sunflower Seeds and/or Finely Chopped Nuts – protein, vitamins and
minerals galore. If you use some walnuts, there’s omega-3 right there!
12 oz. package of Chocolate Chips – If you use dark chocolate, you’re talkin’
1 cup Butter or Margarine – Hey, people put butter on toast. Toast is a breakfast food.
1 tsp. Vanilla – Completely harmless.
½ tsp. Baking Soda – Neither here nor there, nutrition-wise.
1 Tbsp Baking Powder – Doesn’t tip the balance positive or negative.
1½ cups Sugar – Again, have you checked the ingredients in breakfast cereals? Besides,
even the healthiest breakfast can have a donut thrown in, no harm no foul.

How To Put Your Breakfast Together:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. In a large bowl cream together butter/margarine and sugar.
3. Add eggs & vanilla and beat the heck out of the mixture (see, you’re getting exercise, too.)
4. Combine flour with baking soda and baking powder, then add to the bowl and mix well.
5. Toss in your oats and mix well.
6. Add the chocolate chips and nuts/seeds. Mix.
7. Spoon cookie dough onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for about 8 to 10 minutes. Makes between 30 and 50 cookies, depending on the size you like. Tell your family it makes 20 so they won’t wonder where all the cookies went by the time they make it into the kitchen.
8. Enjoy! And remember, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so eat up!