Discouraging Gender Stereotypes and other Easter Photos

Open Letters . . .

Dear ginormous zit on my chin,

I'm not sure if you realize that in two weeks I will be THIRTY-THREE years old. I am not a teenager, nor am I pregnant. There is absolutely no hormonal justification for you to be torturing me, so I would appreciate it if you would find somewhere else to fester.

Thanks.



Dear Really Hot Chick at the Gym,

Please do not come into the aerobics room and do lunges while I am trying to get through my ab workout. You have absolutely no body fat or cellulite, big fake boobs and I know you've birthed two children. You are a genetic freak and you greatly affect my self esteem. Plus, all of the guys in the gym stare into the aerobics room to watch you do lunges and that makes me and my crotch sweat stain very uncomfortable.

Thanks.


Dear Mary-Kate,

No matter how cool you think you are, there is NOTHING that will ever make that headband work. You look like a complete tool and Marc Jacobs is an accessory to fashion felony. Please burn it.

Thanks.

Just a couple more . . .

More Princess Party Pics . . .

Keep in mind with that last pic of Georgia that I asked for a smile and got that face, it was posed, NOT an action shot. Classic.

Princess Dress Up Tea Party

Georgia and her best friend Riley celebrated their 4th birthdays in princess style, complete with a castle gate by Aunt Mandi! We decorated tiaras, drank "tea" (pink lemonade), took a Princess Parade around the neighborhood, got our faces painted and had yummy pink cupcakes. I couldn't bear to cut up the princess castle cake that I made - just call me Betty Crocker.

Speaking of Big Hair Bands . . .

We're going to see Van Halen in Hershey on May 18th. Def Leppard set the bar pretty high at the York Fair in 2003, so we'll see.

Playlist

As much as I LOVE cheesy country, I also love big hair bands. I had big hair and they had big hair, we all loved eyeliner and lipstick, so there was some obvious bonding on many levels. And yes, I did watch the finale to Rock of Love 2. I think that I lost quite a few brain cells, but it was worth it just to see Brett Michael's eye makeup. I know he's toned it down since the 80's, but for the love of all that is holy, can you back off of the headbands and cowboys hats? We all know that you probably have a receding hairline, or no hair at all, because you are what, like, 50 now? I think it's worse than a comb-over because at least the comb-overers are working with what they've got. And for those of you who don't know, Brett Michaels is from Bogie's hometown of Mechanicsburg, PA. I'm sure her chest is BURSTING with pride.




UPDATE: I must have missed this during my usual reading of CNN.com on Monday. Exerpt of an interview with Brett about Rock of Love 2:

Q: What are you hiding under that bandanna?

MICHAELS: My hair is combined of my hair and the finest extensions Europe has to offer. I do the show without it on all the time and they won't film me. They are like, "Put your bandanna back on. It is your image." It is my signature thing.

The World's Biggest Sap

Today at lunch I dropped by the daycare to hand in a permission slip for G-Ro's field trip tomorrow. When I went to check on Hughie they had him in the TODDLER room. Not only did they have him in the toddler room, he was fast asleep on a mat in the middle of the room just like the rest of the "big" kids, not in a crib with babies. As Miss Rachel handed me his first "painting" from that morning, I started to cry. I was supposed to have a few more months before he graduated from the guppie to tadpole class - my boy is growing up way too fast. Time to start poking holes in my diaphram again. ;)

We also started a chore chart for Georgia in which she has the opportunity to earn stars for doing certain things like making her bed, getting dressed by herself, cleaning up her toys, etc. The BIG PRIZE is a trip to Chuck E. Cheese if she earns 60 stars. Nothing like a large, dancing rodent and skee ball for motivation! It's working like a charm too, especially because bad choices result in the removal of stars. I barely have to threaten star loss and Georgia jumps to attention. I wish I would have thought of this months ago!! Go team Mom.

The Coburns . . .

Pittsburgh Weekend

This weekend we took a road trip to Pittsburgh to visit Bill and Louise. I feel a little guilty that this is my first visit out there (in 9 years), but we had such a great visit we're hoping to make it an annual thing. Hughie was completely enamored of Bill, of course, because they share the coolest middle name EVER. That and Hughie only likes men. For now, at least.

My nieces Carolyn and Kelsy are growing up so freaking fast. When I first met Chris they were just little girls and now Carloyn is thinking about college (*cough* F&M *cough*)!!!! We got a chance to watch Kesley play soccer this weekend and I thought Georgia might catch the fever, but she didn't really seem to get it. We also got to see Louise conduct a service at her Church (she is an ordained minister) and it was really cool to experience that. Hughie didn't exactly cooperate during the service, but that's to be expected. He's still not the greatest traveler, but we survived. I think I may be the only mother on the planet whose kids sleep no more than five minutes in the car, EVEN ON A FOUR HOUR ROAD TRIP WITH NO NAP. But, I digress. All in all, a great trip. Thanks Bill and Louise.

Mimi and Papa have finally returned from Florida. Mimi hasn't seen Hughie since before he could walk and now that he's running, so she's in for a shock. ;)

FIERCE!

Two of my favorite things in life (Ugly Betty and designer Christian Siriano, winner of Project Runway) are merging into what will likely be a super-fierce episode of Ugly Betty on May 1. For those of you who do not watch Ugly Betty, you are missing one of the funniest shows on television. For those of you who do not love Project Runway or know who Christian is, I have no words. In fact, I'm not sure we can even be friends. If I could hand pick my main gay, Christian would be it. But apparently that fame whore Victoria "Posh" Beckam has beaten me to it.



http://www.christianvsiriano.com/bio.html

Georgia-isms

After pleading for a princess wedding dress for her birthday (I bought one and it is hanging in the hall closet until B-Day) for MONTHS, Georgia informs me yesterday that she wants a Belle costume for her birthday. So I respond, "I thought you wanted a princess wedding dress?" And she says, "Amber, I have an idea. How about we get BOTH the princess wedding dress AND the Belle costume? Would that be cool?"

She's a smooth talker, that one.

My new favorite bumper sticker reads . . .

"If size doesn't matter, why am I so popular?"

Second runner up:


"If you're going to ride my a**, at least pull my hair."

Georgia has a lot of vowels.

I didn't really consider the fact that "Georgia" would be a tough name to learn to write when naming my daughter. I only realized it recently when I noticed that other kids in Georgia's class were writing their own names and Georgia was stuck on G. We've been working on and she's getting better, but she still can't write it on her own. Here's her best effort at copying her name to date:

Easy Baby

I don't think I realized what a difficult toddler Georgia was until this past week when it struck me how easy Hughie is. Yesterday I went to the gym and dropped off Hughie and G-Ro. Hughie just took off without looking back. Georgia was about the same age when I had to stop taking her to the gym. She would FREAK OUT every single time that I tried to put her in the Kids Club. Five minutes later someone would be seeking me out to say that Georgia needed to be removed from the premises as her screaming was making everyone's ears bleed. I didn't start taking her back until she was about three. Also, Hughie's most recent ear infection hadn't cleared up as of Friday, so he's on Augmentin (again). At a year old, Chris and I would have to literally double team Georgia to force the Augmentin down her throat. Hughie sucks it down like it's candy (I actually think he's hoping that it's the yummy grape Motrin that he loves). Giving him gross medicine is easy. Clipping fingernails? Again, it was a double team effort with Georgia, a lot like attempting to staple jello to trees, as I love to say. Hughie? He fights me for second and then gives up and lets me clip his nails. Hair washing? Anyone who knows Georgia well knows that to this day if you get water in her eyes in the bath tub she will scream. Loud, blood curdling screams. I'm not sure why, exactly, but she does. Hughie? He just kind of blinks at me after I dump water over his head - like, what the hell? But no screams. So for all you peeps out there with easy babies, here's hoping you have a Georgia!!! It's only fair.

Now, in Georgia's defense, she is the single most affectionate child on the planet. Every morning at 7:30 on the nose, she comes into our room and climbs into bed to curl up with me and tell me that I'll always be her best friend. And for that, I will forgive all.

"Remember when the sound of little feet was the music that we danced to week to week?"

- Alan Jackson

Hard Habit to Break

I'm converting to Mennonism. Is that even a word? I want to become a Mennonite - and the "strict" kind. I was in Costco yersterday and I saw two Mennonite women in their very plain and simple dresses, no make-up, complete with a hair bun covered by a net. Any of you who know me know that I am fashion impaired, big time. When I do try to be trendy, I end up looking like a hot mess, to put it nicely. In the end, I always end up in some sort of neutral colored top with black pants. Always. Boring. Now, if I were Memmonite, I would have three dresses, white socks and sneakers. And that's it. I would be so freaking comfortable AND there would no longer be any stress with getting ready in the morning. You've put on a few pounds? No problemo, the dresses have no waistlines. So instead of buying a new wardrobe every time you pack on a few, you're saved by free flowing polyester. And think of all the money I would save! I will be honest with you though, as much as I would LOVE to give up make-up, I would have to at least sneak some concealer and perhaps a teeny bit of mascara.

But I guess that the point, isn't it? If we were all stripped down to the bare essentials and forced to be viewed as we really are, it would be pretty scary, wouldn't it? I guess I never really thought about how brave those women are for having the cajones to be plain. Speaking of cajones (this is not a joke), I saw a Mennonite woman THIS MORNING walking down the alley wearing an ankle length jean skirt, white socks, sneakers and a t-shirt that said, "I AM A HARD HABIT TO BREAK." I couldn't help but think about the poor, whipped Mennonite fellow who's heart she's probably stomped on. Serves him right for being allowed to wear normal clothes.

Pictures of Superstar Suz

My weekend

Susan's dance performance was a resounding success and her fans could not have been more, um, spirited. We even had signs (and a flask with vodka)! I know that Betsy videoptaped the cha-cha and I hope to get my hands on that clip for your viewing pleasure. I LOVED seeing my friends, but I think that my kids have sucked the fun out of me. I was all sorts of fired up to paint the town at the beginning of the evening and before I knew it it was midnight, I'm yawning and thinking about how nice that luxurious hotel bed will be. Energy is a precious commodity that I have in short supply these days.

And when we called to check on the kids I was informed that Georgia had a temperature of 103 and a sore throat. So not only did my saintly mother-in-law take my kids overnight for me (on her birthday!), but she had to deal with two sick kids. Thanks, Glo, you're the best.

These are some pics taken of my kids (and Grandma and Evie) while we were gone this weekend.

Baby Mine

Georgia loves it when I sing "Baby Mine" from the Dumbo soundtrack to her. Allison Kraus does it a bit better than I do (see blog tunes playlist), but I try. Last night I was singing it to G-Ro and Hughie in the tub. Hughie totally sang, "ba-by!" It was adorable.

Blog Tunes

Sorry about the cheesy country music, but sometimes I just can't fight my WT roots. You must listen to at least the first song of my playlist and keep in mind that the voice you are hearing is coming from a tiny white man, not a large back one.

The QuiNtuple Threat.

My friend Susan is a girl I hate to love. I call her the quintuple threat because she can sing, dance and act AND she is smart and beautiful. Completely and ridiculously unfair, but I digress. She is one of my best friends from college and has recently begun taking ballroom dance lessons. Not only has she lost a bunch of weight and has a fabulous new apartment in Philadelphia, but her butt looks better now than it did in college. Insane. Anywho, I am heading to her dance showcase this weekend with Chris. We're going to try to make a weekend of it, if a sick kid with his 4th ear infection doesn't ruin it for us. Apparently Susan has rented a HOT costume for her cha-cha and Chris is now torn between actually going to the showcase or hanging with the guys to watch the Final Four Games. Susan's new butt or March Madness? It's a tough call. I hope to have some great photos for you all next week.

Just to be fair . . .

I have been informed that the photo of Obama that I posted yesterday is the digitally altered form of this photo. A special thanks to blog policeman, Rob, for bringing this to my attention.

The photo of George W., however, has not been altered.

Bleu the Incredible

If you read the www.dooce.com blog, you are likely amused by dogs balancing things on their heads. And if that's the case, allow me to introduce Bleu (My BFF Bogie's beloved lab) showcasing some serious self control, balance and discipline with apples. Brava!

Georgia's Take

We decided to wrap the terra cotta color that we have in the entryway around into another wall in the living room. Georgia's response when she saw it? "I like the orange wall, but it's not my favorite."

Obama

I was speaking with my friend Anne yesterday about her recent interview with Obama (she's a local newscaster) and she said that he was quite impressive in person. She said he was extremely well spoken, very much comfortable in his own skin and not remotely "oily" (how I like to describe the Bill Clintonesque). Today, my Mom (who also happens to be a hardcore right wing propaganda supporter, particularly via e-mail) sent me a message titled: Our Next President?!?! With this photo attached. Freaking CLASSIC. Regardless of your political affiliations, that is funny.

One good thing . . .

While I was griping in my last post I forgot to mention that one good thing did happen yesterday. Hughie actually wanted his MAMA instead of his Daddy. Finally. Also, Georgia is only calling me Amber these days. She's done it so much now, that I don't even notice any more. Everyone keeps laughing when she does it, but I don't evennotice it at this point. Apparently this is a phase. When I ask her why she's calling me Amber she says, "That's your name." Smartass.

Hit him while he's down . . .

So if 4 teeth at once and Lloyd Christmas bangs (Chris was at him again and this time it wasn't so pretty) were not bad enough for Hughie, he was socked with a high fever and cold yesterday. I had all sorts of lofty expectations for myself yesterday, including mounds of wash and cleaning out the kids' drawers and closets. Instead, I sat on the couch with Hughie moaning in my arms while watching daytime television all day. I'm extremely grateful that there was a marathon of America's Next Top Model, or I would have had to endure talk shows all day long. Do you know what the topic of The Tyra show was yesterday? CHILD STYLISTS. I shit you not. Because obviously I'm sitting at home thinking of stupidest ways possible to spend the endless amounts of money that my husband makes. Forget AIDS or cancer research, starving children and the homeless, I'm going to shell out $650 A DAY to get Georgia really styling. Dolce and Gabanna shirt, size 5T? Check. Michael Kors leggings, size 5T? Check. Jimmy Choo toddler stilettos, toddler size 10? Check. I mean, it's TOTALLY worth it for the five seconds that Georgia will be in those sizes. Now I won't have to be embrassed by her lack of style at that Hamptons barbecue. Whew.

And if you really want to be depressed, watch the Hottest Hooter pageant. I was flipping though the channels last night and this is on. There is sit, literally covered in snot from Hughie after holding him on the couch all day, supressing my gag relfex while watching these chicks strut their perfect shapely legs, tiny butts and big hooters. The absurd, plastic American ideal, browned in a tanning bed. Lovely.

And then, as I'm holding Hughie in bed with me last night at 2 a.m., I hear Georgia running down the hall to our room crying. She's so hysterical I can't get her to tell me what's wrong. Then, with a scream (and waking Hughie), she pees all over my (FAVORITE) king sized memory foam pillow and satin pillow case (which is on the floor to make room for Hughie). If anyone has any ideas on how to clean that, I would greatly appreciate. Just shoot me now. Well, at leat now I know what she was trying to tell me.