Everybody needs a Rosie

Sophia Grace and Rosie on Ellen / Image rights - warnerbros.com

Have you seen Sophia, the little 8 year old Nicki Minaj wanna-be sensation? And her quiet little back-up-dancer-cousin Rosie (age 5)?

Cutest little tiara-wearing-tutu-sporting-sprites ever. Sophia is hard to miss, but how ’bout that Rosie?

Aren’t we all Rosies? The ones in the background, the back-up singers, adding a little more umph to the show, helping the Sophia’s of the world really shine?  Without Rosie, Sophia wouldn’t be as confident, perhaps. Rosie is very likely the voice of reason, in fact at one point she tries to settle Sophia down, perhaps in a quiet whisper saying, “Easy cousin. Tone it down. We’re on ELLEN!!”


Go out there and have a great day blog readers. Be a Sophia today, or a Rosie. Either way, you can’t go wrong.


Petting zoos

I hate them. I know, it’s sweet to see all the babies, toddlers and children playing with the baby animals – the bunnies, baby goats, ducklings – but I hate that they’re on display, handled so carelessly and often. Those baby animals aren’t enjoying it. It’s worse than a circus (don’t get me started on the circus), or the zoo (oooh and let’s not talk about the zoo!!).

Nonetheless, we partook in the petting zoo at our church. I know, I know. And of course I was there to snap the obligatory pictures. I KNOW!! My kids can’t not play with them if they’re near by. No kid can.

They fell in love with the bunnies. Even my eldest who is not the cute cuddly animal type. I love that about her. I mean, yes, she loves small cute animals, but if it’s between a cute cuddly animal and a new pair of boots or hair product, she’ll opt for either of the latter. That’s just how she’s wired. Love her.

Am I making too much of it? Anyone else feel the same way about the circus and zoo?

Some poop with that shopping cart?

I’m going to put it out there for all of the internet to know.

I am a germophobe. Yes, when I go to the grocery store, I’m one of the few who will wipe down the shopping cart with the hand sanitizer and wipes they provide. I’m a proud germophobe. Why? Read on…

From the ParentDish web site,

A new study found E. coli on 50 percent of shopping cart handles in four states, showing it pays to be a germophobe at the supermarket.

Researchers at the University of Arizona are warning parents to wipe down their shopping carts after they swabbed the handles of 85 carts and 75 percent turned out to have a marker for fecal bacteria, MSNBC reports.

Taking a closer look, they found 50 percent of those handles had Escherichia coli (E. coli) along with a host of other types of bacteria.

Ewwww, I feel ill.

As if that’s not enough …

I dragged my kids to church this past Sunday and made a pitstop in the bathroom. Not so unusual, I mean we know every bathroom in every store or restaurant we ever visit here in Austin. We weren’t alone. There was someone else in the bathroom with us when we entered; she was already in her stall. 

Anyone with kids knows that bathroom visits are not quick. Anyone with 2 children under the age of 10 knows that bathroom visits are painfully slow.  By the time we’d washed up and were just about ready to head out our friend in the stall finished up. She popped out of her stall and … exited. My 2nd daughter and I exchanged one of those looks that only germophobes do (“Ewwww, did you see what I just saw?!) and grimaced in disgust.

Did I mention that she was one of the church greeters? The ones at the front door with the smiles on their face, distributing the church bulletin, and shaking your hand welcoming you in to our Sunday celebration?  

Uh huh.

That’s why I pack hand sanitizer, people. And wipes.

Three years

(For my brother-in-law…)

L’il G: “Piper’s mom is young. She’s 40.”

Me: “I’m only 43.”

L’il G: “That’s old.”

Me: “It’s only 3 years.”

L’il G: “But she’s 3 years younger.”

(And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I threw this one in…)

Me: “Well, she might be younger, but I’m wiser.”

L’il G: “Then grannies must be really smart.”

Big sigh…….

Injured bad

Tell me you don’t want to just grab this little fella and squeeze him until he screams UNCLE?!!! That face. I swear if I weren’t done having babies I’d want to have one just like him. Although Palo Alto would wonder why his skin was so dark.

Uhhh, I’m Latin???!!!

And here’s another one of him…

Mr. Mom

This is apparently an old song. As in, 2006 old. I’d never heard it before until this past weekend when we were in Galveston at Schlitterbahn. (Fun, but too many people in one space for my comfort. And I don’t really care much for barely naked people banging into me in a “lazy river”. It’s never Brad Pitt or Alexander Skarsgard banging into me at Schlitterbahn. No. Just some ginormous man with boobs and a carpet on his back. )

I was sitting it out with my friend’s daughter who had freaked out on one of the rides and happened to hear this song over Schlitterbahn’s sound system. I couldn’t help but smile at some of the lyrics.

Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer
Crayons go up one drawer higher
Rewind Barney for the fifteenth time
Breakfast, six naps at nine
There’s bubble gum in the baby’s hair
Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair
Been crazy all day long and it’s only Monday
Mr. Mom

Football, soccer and ballet
Squeeze in Scouts and PTA
And there’s that shopping list she left
That’s seven pages long
How much smoke can one stove make
The kids won’t eat my charcoal cake
It’s more than any maid can take
Being Mr. Mom

We were very fortunate in that one of us was able to stay home with the girls. In our case it was Palo Alto who was Mr. Mom for quite some time.  I consider myself, and my girls pretty lucky. He was a great Mr. Mom. He was never the kind to just plop them down in front of the television. He always had some fun things planned for them to do whether it was at home, with playmates, with his Dads group, or some new adventure.

Of course now that they’re older, we just want to plop them down in front of the television without any interruptions.

I kid! (Sort of.)

The song is sweet and a reminder that being a stay-at-home parent is HARD, SO HARD, whether you’re Mom doing it or Dad. It’s the hardest job on earth, and the most rewarding, though that’s hard to fathom when cleaning the kitchen for the twelfth time in a day, or a diaper almost as often.

Thank you to all you moms and dads out there who do an amazing job, day in and day out.