Thursday, March 31, 2011

Five Universal Laws of Running Errands

We feel like we spend all our time running errands. And, no matter how many times we go, the same stupid things always happen that cause us to fail miserably. For the longest time, we couldn't understand what was so freakin' hard about getting a couple things done, but now we've figured it out. It's the Universal Laws of Errand Running. And it's doing to our time what gravity is doing to our boobs. Dragging it so far down that, one of these days, we're just going to trip over 'em.


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Rule #1: Mom Errands vs. Dad Errands

Dad leaves for the grocery store. Alone. With a list that includes easy things like milk, eggs, bread, lunch meat, broccoli and toilet paper.

Six hours later, he comes home with a new tool box, 14 boxes of wood screws and a delivery slip for a half a cord of wood to "build a deck", a case of Gatorade and popcorn from Costco, a half dozen pamphlets about big screen TVs delivered with a "what? it was next door to Home Depot." and, from the grocery store, two packs of Ding Dongs, a 25-pound bag of frozen chicken, the Wedding Crashers DVD and yogurt.

Mom leaves for the grocery store. With all the kids. With a list that includes easy things like milk, eggs, bread, lunch meat, broccoli and toilet paper. Return 15 minutes later with said items. Dad says, "See? It isn't so hard."


Rule #2: The Phone Call Errand Killer
I'm on my way to Costco and the Rec Center to get some much needed toilet paper [we had moved beyond both Kleenex AND paper towels...yes, it was that bad. Kate] and other super bulky cheapy things, and then to go register the kids for summer camp. I was twenty-seven feet away from the school before the phone rang. "Mom, I forgot my clarinet, and band class is in ten minutes, so I need it now." Really? This after the twelve minute routine I do every morning that somehow includes this exact phrase, "Do we have what we need? Books, food, bags and reeds?" I actually say this, all rhyme-y and stuff. Astonishingly, McGee somehow can -- well, most times -- remember her clarinet, but not the reeds that are required to play said clarinet. [I keep asking her if her band is a mime band. She doesn't think it's funny. Odd. -Kate]  She says, "But mom, I remembered my reeds." Wait. What? Aren't they IN the clarinet case? Never mind. So, I head home, grab the clarinet, return to school, only to be stopped by the PTA mom, the school nurse and the Choir Teacher. When I leave, it's 45 minutes later.

Then I curse my way back to my car, which is actually pretty cathartic. Left, right, left, right, stupid, time, left, right, wasted, f**k, nowI'mlate, right, left, jackhole, left, nothing, else, to, do, right, left, stuff, for, you, left, mur, thur, right, fur, ker, left, right, left, right, where, are, furkin', keys, left, sh*t, SLAM!

Then I get to Costco and McLovin calls and says, "I forgot I had an important meeting with the King of Siam and I'm not wearing a suit. BRING. ME. ONE. The meeting is in a half hour." And slams down the phone. Huh? Siam has a King? "Kate, stop googling King of Siam. Bring me a suit. Oh, and the blue tie with the little star looking things on it. I think he'll appreciat---"

*CLICK*

Oops. Funny how my phone hangs up right when you're about to make a stupid point about some guy I'll never meet. My phone is smart. Back to the house, drive into the city, deliver suit. With the pretty red tie that looks like a vagina. Awesome.

I'll go to Costco tomorrow. Until then, I've stocked the bathrooms with Post-It Notes.


Rule #3:More People Does Not Mean More Efficient
One day I had all three of the IHPs with me at the grocery store. They wanted lasagna, and I needed eight things to make that happen. In my math-y brain, this was two things per person. Happy got the easy task: tomatoes and parsley. Lefty: ground beef and garlic bread from the bakery. McGee, because she can read, got lasagna and shredded mozzarella cheese. And, because I'm no idiot, opted to get the eggs and ricotta cheese. The former because of the break rate; the latter because it kept me close enough to keep an eye on Happy.

I might as well have sent in a drunken horde of howler monkeys on a weekend in Cabo.

Happy, in a quest to find the perfect tomatoes, ummm, bit into them. Seven were deemed of exceptional quality. Thirteen -- THIRTEEN -- weren't. The produce section resembled what I imagine Forks would look like after the Volturi arrived in the produce department. You know what he used to try and clean it up? The parsley. Yeah, no amount of washing is going to make me forget it was used to sweep the grocery store floor.

Lefty played bumper food with the RAW meat and freshly baked bread. Guess who won? Well, the bread was bloody, so let's just say for the sake of argument that it lost.

McGee came back with cheese sticks and farfalle. Because, and I quote, "this seemed more fun."

Dinner is going to be fun too. In that no one is going to eat it.



Rule #4: The 33 1/3 % Failure Rate
Just be prepared that, no matter how many or how few things are on your list, a full third of them will not get done. Definitely not today, probably not this week, and possibly never. Things like:
  • write thank you note to neighbors for walking beagle last Saturday
  • mail back shorts that don't fit right
  • gym
  • wrap gift for Liz's birthday that was eight weeks ago 
  • also, buy wrapping paper
Face it, it'll take less time to just clean up the pee the next time you leave the dog home for too long than it will to find the cute little monogrammed notes, and a nice pen and have 2 minutes of uninterrupted time to write the note, much less mail it or walk it down the street. Put the shorts on the shelf for that day when you can fit into them -- and write a note to yourself to have the Someday I'll Wear These clothing shelf extended because, jeez there's a lot of stuff up there now. Laugh that you actually wrote the gym thing down, and congratulate yourself on the .25 calories you burned writing G Y M. Take that, Jillian. I can soooooo lose 80 pounds. All I have to do is write freakin' War and Peace. As for Liz, hand her the TJ Maxx bag and a bottle of wine. She'll totally forgive you. Especially if you teach her how to make a goat. 

(Editor's note: Look at the list. - Lydia)

Rule #5: The Birth of the Baby Errand
What happens when I leave the Costco list in the car with the Old Navy cargo pants that are a size too small? Do they put on Barry White and make little mini errands? Because I'll walk out of the grocery store and look at the list and the pants and realize that I need to go to the Dry Cleaners. Or, even better, Costco will have a bushel of avocados for 49 cents, which I immediately purchase...and then realize on the way home that what in the name of Maude am I going to do with 25 pounds of avocados? Guacamole comes to mind, which of course means that I have to go back. to. the. grocery. store. for tortilla chips.

I would send my husband. But there's a good chance he'll come home with the King of Siam.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Spring Fever Playlist

Even Yoda loves our jams.
We're like DJ's for Jedis.
Recently someone asked me what music Kate & I were rocking out to in the Big White Tampon.  The answer was nothing good because I hate everything on my iPod as I've heard it approximately 4,987 times.  Then three of my friends on Facebook mentioned in their status updates that they were looking for recommendations for new music. It wasn't just me!

So I got busy and found some new tunes and made a playlist for us.  You can check out the track list below.  We also published the Spring 2010 RFML Playlist on iTunes where you can hear everything.  Here it is:
  1. 6 Foot 7 Foot (feat. Cory Gunz) by Lil Wayne [Editor's Note: According to the Cap'n this song is not good for kids, just because it has a lot of curse words and stuff and Lil Wayne may or not be a felon or something.  He was like "I can't believe you're listening to this with Mini in the car!" And I was all "Umm... it's educational.  Because it teaches *counting*"  Somehow he seemed unconvinced and has since laid down a No Lil Wayne Dictum when kids are in the car.  What a square. - xo, Lydia]
  2. Right Round by Flo Rida
  3. This is a GLEE-heavy playlist.
     Because the kids love it.
    OK, fine. We're Gleeks.  Suck it.
  4. Hello by Martin Solveig & Dragonette
  5. Rocketeer by Far East Movement & Ryan Tedder
  6. MASH-UP ALERT!!! Jennifer Lopez vs Edward Maya ft Pitbull & Vika - Love On The Stereo Floor by DJ Ryson
  7. Loser Like Me by the Glee Cast
  8. Raise Your Glass (Glee Cast Version)
  9. Cooler Than Me by Mike Posner
  10. Bottoms Up by Trey Songz f. Nicki Minaj
  11. Born This Way by Lady GaGa
  12. City Girl by Echo Kings (Love. love. love.)
  13. Animal by Neon Trees
  14. Under Cover of Darkness by The Strokes (OH DEAR MAUDE this whole damn disc is so bad ass)
  15. Dog Days Are Over by Florence and the Machine
  16. Rolling In the Deep by Adele (ditto on this one)
  17. Tightrope (feat. Big Boi) by Janelle Monáe (This song is guarunteed to make your toddler rock out)
  18. Take Me or Leave Me (Glee Cast Version)
  19. Don't Rain On My Parade (Glee Cast Version) 
  20. Get It Right (Glee Cast Version)
  21. Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars
  22. Coming Home by Diddy - Dirty Money & Skylar Grey
  23. The High Road by Broken Bells (This band is 2 dudes: the lead singer of the Shins and mutherfunking Danger Mouse. Swoon.)
  24. Pyro by Kings of Leon (mmmmm.... Kings of Leon.)
  25. Machu Piccu by The Strokes
  26. Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons
  27. 1983 by Neon Trees 
Now please help us!  We need your recommendations.  The last time we asked you to send your song suggestions we got SO MUCH good stuff.  So! What's good out there? Especially stuff we may not have heard of.  What are the songs that your kids love that you can actually stand listening to?  When we get enough of them, we'll compile them into a Volume 2 on iTunes. 

Gracias hookers!
xo, Lydia & Kate

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Guess What?!

We've got news.  We're sort of  "professional" now.  WE KNOW.  It came as a shock to us, too.  Here's how it happened.  A couple of weeks ago we got an email in our SPAM folder telling us that Nickelodeon wanted us to write stuff for them. I swear to Maude I almost deleted it thinking it was a joke.  But it wasn't.  They were serious.  They may have been on cold medication but whatevs.  We got the gig.

We are so happy and excited to say that we now blog for Nickelodeon's ParentsConnect website! 


But between this new gig, our column for The Washington Times communities and writing for The Huffington Post - we're finding ourselves stretched a little thin.  Not thin enough to be able to pull off PajamaJeans, but you get the idea.  And of course, our first priority is our kiddos - however rotten the little snugglers might be.  So going forward, one day a week we're going to have a post here that tells you where you can find all this other stuff.  That way, we don't lose our minds and start posting things like:

Today Mini said: "MOMMA! Poop in my hands!" and then I gagged.  And then after I cleaned it, I finished my sandwich. Wait. That was gross, wasn't it? The end.

So even though you won't be getting something new from us here on that one day a week - you'll actually be getting something new from us in at least 2 other places.  So it's actually pretty awesome.  It's like a two-fer. Or even a three-some. I did it again. I made it porny. What's wrong with me?

Your second post for the day is us ripping into Abercrombie & Fitch for selling padded, push-up bikini tops to little girls . GAHHHHHH!!!! What the hell is wrong with people? Who thinks that's a good idea?  And did you guys hear about the mom giving her 8 yr old daughter monthly Botox treatments? Has the entire f*cking world gone crazy? Or is everyone else sane? And we're the crazy ones, except no one told us because they're worried about our feelings? 

And your third post for the day is all about keeping you up to date on current events. Listen, we all have kid shows on all day every day. Which means we aren't watching things like CNBC or The Very Serious News Station or TMZ or anything else. And, people, there are things happening in the world. So, we proudly offer Stuff That Happens in the World When We're Watching Nickelodeon.  It'll be a weekly news wrap up for all of us who are far too busy to actually watch the real news. And who are invariably snoring loudly when John Stewart comes on. Oh, just me? Yeah.

In any case, we're pretty happy about the whole Nickelodeon thing.  We figure we have about three days before they pull the plug on it. If we're lucky...

xo, Kate & Lydia
(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

We'll Always Have Paris. Oh, Wait...No We Won't

So, we love artwork. This is nothing new. We take perfectly lovely and sweet photographs of kittens and sunsets and Maude and jack 'em all up and make 'em say really profane and generally disrespectful stuff. So, when one of our MommyLand moms sends us a story about her most embarrassing moment AND included 27 separate e-mails worth of original artwork to got with it, ummm, HELLO! Of course we're going to run it. Mostly because we begged her to write it for us in the first place.  A very huge thank you to Kate in Michigan, who is also the dictator of the RFML SparkPeople Strength Team (where we first became acquainted with her incredible illustrating skills).  She is the Queen of the Ninja Pirate Hookers and we adore her.
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Back in the DBK (Days Before Kids), my husband and I lived in Pittsburgh.


We loved it. We were young (late 20s), smart (he was getting his PhD and I had just gotten my Master’s), and with a small amount of discretionary cash which we spent unwisely and very well. One Friday afternoon in January, my husband called me at my temp job and asked if I wanted to go to PARIS the following weekend.

WHUCK?

Well, turned out that there was an insanely good rate on airline tickets out of the ‘Burgh, but ONLY if you buy TODAY. 

“Ummm, even yesser!” I believe was my answer.

So we went. It was three days of walking, eating, going to museums, checking out the Eiffel Tower,


and eating some more. I felt so cosmopolitan. Such a World Traveler. We just up and went to Europe! For the weekend! How cool were we?
 

After shopping on the Champs Elysees (we bought him a leather coat - did you know there are INCREDIBLE sales in Paris in January? It’s true.) We were happy, tired, and a mite hungry. That’s where our story begins.


Oh, how wonderful. An out-of-the-way Café full of Parisians! Incroyable! We practiced our EXTREMELY limited French and got a table near the windows. The tables were adorably close together. Cigarette smoke everywhere.


We happily ordered coffee while we perused the menu.


 Oh, it felt so good to be able to order lunch -- IN FRENCH! Did you know that “hard boiled eggs” is “oeuf dur”? It totally is.

 
The ham was on the bottom, with some fancy schmancy mustard (pardon, “la moutarde”), interspersed with delectable tomato slices and some green leafy something. The halved oeufs were arrayed artfully on top, their little white bottoms nestled into what I can only assume was some mustard/Dijon/hollandaise sauce. I didn’t care what it was called. I wanted to dive in.


 Cradling this rather large sandwich in my hands, I debated the best approach. It was too tall to just munch easily, so I began nibbling on one end, all the time sitting up, coquettishly swinging my crossed leg back and forth, showing off my high-heeled boot.


Out of the corner of my heavily mascaraed eye, I saw something white fly through the air.


White and yellow, actually. My husband caught my eye. We both sat very still, smiles frozen on our faces.  

Him: “What was that?”
Me: "Maybe an egg?”

I peered at the far side of my sandwich. Whaddya know -- an oeuf was AWOL. Whoops. I snuck a glance under the table, expecting to find the egg where I could discreetly kick it out of sight.


Ooookayyyy…


 Maybe under my seat?


 This was not funny any more.


An egg cannot just disappear. NOT EVEN IN PARIS. I was starting to hyperventilate a bit. Then…


I looked at the woman at the table RIGHT next to us. She was so exquisite. So chic. So… wearing white. In January.


 Ummm, oh. no. it. didn't.


[Instant Replay]








I began frantically searching for...for what? Words!


She glanced down, wrinkled her flawlessly alabaster brow, and said in mellifluous French,


Oh God. What? Is she telling me she’s calling the cops on the Ugly American?

My husband, seeing that even the tiny shreds of my Frencherican had abandoned me, translated. “Honey, she’s saying that it’s not easy to eat those sandwiches.”

I was desperate. I was sweating and hideously embarrassed. I needed to get out. We flagged down the Garcon and paid the bill -- and probably tipped him about 427%. I couldn’t meet the Chic Woman’s eye as we left. However, I did hear a very French snort.

So, just a review:

HOW I FELT BEFORE LUNCH:



Aaaaaand…
AFTER:



Next time I visit gay Paree, I’m gonna change my name. And avoid oeufs. Dur.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Monday, March 28, 2011

Five Things I Should Know by Now


I’ve been a mom for almost eight years.  There are some things I should know by now but apparently, I don’t.  Because I’m an idiot. 

Always check the diaper first. The other day I was in a hurry, so I tried to do a quickie diaper change on my bed.  I was positive it was an Uno, because I couldn’t smell anything. So I whipped the diaper off with a flourish and was rewarded with several small turds flying up to greet my face.  And then fall softly onto my bed.  I was just lucky that I didn’t scream until after the poo hit my face. Always check for the deuce, my friends. Always check for the deuce.

Beware of the Ominous Silence.  We were having one of those rare moments when everyone was happily doing their own thing.  One was reading, one was playing with Legos and one was smashing play dough into the carpet.  Mommy may have been on Facebook.  Then all of a sudden I noticed it was quiet.  I wandered into the kitchen to see all three kids freeze. Then scatter. They’d found my hidden stash of PMS candy.  Do you know what happens to three small children when they eat an entire bag of mini Mounds bars? They become demon spawn for about 90 minutes.  Then they cry a lot.  Then they get sent to bed early and mommy has a drink.

Please remember to cut your kid’s nails because now it’s just really gross and awkward. Why do I always forget that my kids need to get their nails cut? I overlook this basic part of their grooming until they scratch themselves on the face right before picture day, so that my inability to parent is recorded for posterity.  Or I ask my son if he’s washed his hands and he holds up some Howard Hughes-looking monkey paws that make him appear as if he has ring worm.  Nice.

When one of your kids won’t eat –  call in the big guns.  Go with the noodle.  I’ve spent the past week killing myself trying to get my toddler to eat.  I even resorted to making her apple sauce from scratch.  But all she would eat was yogurt.  Then I randomly made myself some ramen noodles for lunch and she was like: “I have some? Some of dem noodles? PLEASE?”  She then proceeded to carb-load like she was running the NYC Marathon.  And I totally should have known this already because the other two kids have been worshipping at the alter of the noodle since they could manage solid food.  I mean, if I make prime rib, they’re like meh. But serve those little ingrates mac’n’cheese from a box they act like I’m frigging Eric Ripert and I just shaved truffles over their plate. 

Don’t think they’re not listening when you’re talking on the phone.  You know how I know? Because I overheard my daughter telling her brother “Mommy told Miss Ellen on the phone that Daddy’s just grouchy because of the time of the month that it is and because he hasn’t gotten any lately.  Any WHAT, I wonder? I hope he gets some soon.”

As you can see, in spite of my best efforts and years of experience, I’m a walking parenting FAIL.  You’re welcome, everybody.  Go pat yourself on the back, because at least you’re doing it better than me.


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Friday, March 25, 2011

WINNER!! Cards and Magnets and Swag, Oh My

So, Kate loves buying cards. But, instead of writing things in them  like "you're an awesome friend, happy birthday" she writes "hey you're a year older, here's a book, why don't you learn something?"

Then she found this card line that says it for her, so she just gets to write "omg isn't this the best card EVER...and it's soooo true." AND THEN, the awesome girls who get to spend their day writing insulting birthday cards wrote to us and said they'd send us stuff. AND THEN THEY DID! Mommyland, say hello to Christine and Courtney, who are the snitchy geniuses behind Naughty Betty. 

Can we just say how awesome their stuff is? Stuff like this:




And now we have this whole box of cards and magnets and notepads and funny f**king stuff to give to you! WOOT!


Like we promised before when we asked you about giveaways, you don't have to Like or click or forward or give us the names of twenty six of your friends or anything. But because Lydia and I love to read comments and giggle, we ask this:

Pick a famous Betty, be it Betty Rubble, Betty Boop, Betty Draper, Betty from Archie comics, Betty Ford, Betty White or any other Betty you can think of...then tell us what that Betty would do that would make her naughty.

Like, for example:

Betty White: Goes on TV saying the worst foul mouthed things that have ever been said, then goes viral with appearances on SNL and the Daily Show...oh? really? already did that, huh?

Have fun! We'll pick the winner winner chicken dinner on Sunday night...

xoxo Kate and Lydia

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WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER!!


And, coming in right at the bell...and somehow knowing that Lydia and Kate are suckers for a naughty limerick, heyteach brings us this adorable little gem:

There once was Betty Rubble Who wanted her pleasure to double She hopped into bed with Barney and Fred But when Wilma showed up there was trouble!
 heyteach, email us at lydia_and_kate@rantsfrommommyland.com and we'll drop your awesome box of delicious card-i-ness at the Post Office...right after a Death Cage Match of Rock, Paper, Scissors...oh, how we hate the Post Office.

CONGRATS!!


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Top Ten List: What's Rule #1?

Lydia had a moment recently where she found herself asking her kids in her meanest Mean Mommy voice: "What are you guys thinking about?! What is Rule #1 in this house?!" The answers were surprising and hilarious so she shared them with Kate. It then occurred to Kate to ask her own children, whose answers were even funnier. If these answers indicate the degree to which we are successfully raising our children, the whole list is an enormous parenting FAIL.


Top Ten Responses to the Question: What's Rule #1?

10. Don't tell Daddy.

9. Be quiet! Da baby's sleepin'!

8. Something about safety first? [Answered in the form of a question, as if we were playing Jeopardy.]


7. When Mommy's on the phone, stop screaming.


6. You hafta wash your hands after you pee, even if you didn't wipe.

5. DON'T SHARE YOUR TOOTHBRUSH WITH THE DOG!! [Said emphatically and victoriously, like he totally knew it was absolutely the right answer.]


4. Don't annoy mommy?

3. Take off your shoes before -- after -- don't wear shoes in the hou-- take them to our room-- ever. Something.


2. Don't say Jesus unless you're in church.

1.Only run across the street if you're holding hands first. Right?


...Or it could be something about goats. Yeah...that's Rule Number 1. The Goat Rule.


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Thursday, March 24, 2011

FFTIHAD: Huggy Face WHUCK?

So, Lydia and I text a lot. Like, all the time. More specifically, like teenagers who have a possibly unhealthy crush. To the degree that both of our cell phone providers suggested we up our texting to unlimited because we have a combined 47,385 messages to each other. Since January.  And this is all made more funny because Lydia is bad at texting.  Like there are three year olds who can text faster and with fewer spelling errors. 

So now things that would once have been a phone call that we may or not remember due to the t-box syndrome are now immortalized in digital form for the rest of time. And, how do we accept this new reality? We post it to you guys.

Lydia made clear her love for Huggy Face today but LAST NIGHT...well, I'll let her tell you. We were texting each other trying to decide what post to run in the morning.  We couldn't decide between the Cap'n Huggy Face post or something else. Lydia's texts are in white; Kate's are in green.


We're pretty sure this is what HF would think about that.



We're also pretty sure he'd Maude-face Lydia and then A-Frame her. But only after he finishes his dance.

The. End.


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Obsessed With Captain Huggy-Face

Please don't tell my husband (the incomparable yet curmudgeonly Cap'n Coupon) but he may not be my favorite Captain anymore. 

Does anyone else share my obsession with the show "Word Girl" and more specifically, with her side-kick Captain Huggy Face?  It is so awesome.  It teaches vocabulary and proper word choices.  Two lessons I obviously am in desperate need of.  We love it almost as much as Phineas and Ferb.  And the best part?  At the end of every show, Huggy Face does a dance and acts out the meaning of a word and it's often the happiest moment of my day.  I know what that says about me.

I love Captain Huggy Face so much that if he were real, I would steal him from Word Girl. I would drive him around in the Big White Tampon tucked gently into his carseat and take him to his playdates and make him banana smoothies and he would sleep in the bed with me in footie pajamas and be my little buddy forever. And we would dance.

But he's not real.  So I make due with the cartoon.  Which is probably good because only crazy people have monkeys.

Whatever anyone in my house is doing we all stop and come running when someone yells: "HUGGGGYYYY  FAAAAAACCCE!"  Then we all try to do the dance.  The we rewind it maybe ten more times.  The really sad thing is, we've been doing this every day for like two years. The really, really sad thing is that we always pay special attention to all of his facial expressions and we copy those too.


There is good news, though. I thought no one in the world loved Huggy Face and his dancing better than me, but that was before Mini-Mini-Me very selfishly took it all over.  Huggy Face? Hers? Anyone else tries to dance? "No. You stop NOW. Dat's my Huggy Face."

But the good news is that this is the first indication that she may try to use her considerable powers for good, rather than evil.  Then again, this could all be a ploy.  She could be trying to trick us into thinking she's working to defeat villainy and poor word choices when in fact, it's just step one of her plan for world domination.  With this kid, its kind of hard to tell.

Because Mini is not a sell out.  A lot of kids her age like Elmo. She's like: meh.  A lot of kids like Dora, perhaps because the sound of Dora's voice makes mommy leave the room, increasing opportunities for mischief and mayhem.  But not Mini.  Every time Dora asks a question that supposed to elicit a response from the audience, like: "Do you like to dance?" or "What's your name?" or "Do you enjoy traversing crocodile-infested waters with no parental supervision?", Mini screams "NO!"  And that's awesome because we all know that screaming "NO!" is the 2 year old equivalent of flipping somebody off. 

So as you can see, there's actually a chance that Captain Huggy Face is going to be a good influence on my precious little cupcake baked by the devil.  Which is another reason why I love him and feel that he should be promoted from sidekick to all-powerful simian overlord of super heroes.

The. End.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Bonus Rants!!

Today there are two special, all new rants from Kate & Lydia to enjoy just for you.  It's because we love you so much.


On the Huffington Post, you can read Kate's post on how some celebrities appear to have had their heads replaced.  Did you guys see Fergie on the Kid's Choice Awards?  Well, they claim it was her.  If it was, then she totally had a head transplant.  And Kate did some research and there are a bunch more celebrities who did the same thing.  Shocking, we know.


If you feel like reading about something else totally different, Lydia wrote a column about how trying to lose weight when you have PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) is sort of like getting repeatedly stabbed by Sid Vicious.  You can check it out in our column Maternal Ammunition for The Washington Times communities.


We need to tell you how much we really, really appreciate you reading our rants and want you to know that you look particularly awesome today.

xo, Kate & Lydia

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Public Display of Professionalism

Remember that time I told you the story about how I threw up at Five Guys and it was really gross?  Well, there was this other time that something equally embarrassing happened and my husband,Cap’n Coupon says I should share it because it’s been a while since I publicly humiliated myself.  So here goes.

This woman is professional. Lydia is "professional".
Before I had my third little terror suspect, I was a working mom with a lovely job and co-workers and a truly amazing boss and an office with a door that closed (even though it used to be a closet) and for eight hours a day I could do things without small people screaming at me.  I could even go to the bathroom all by myself
Moving on.  My job was in local government and occasionally I had to represent the agency I worked for in public meetings.  It was at one of these meetings where the story takes place.  It was a special meeting for three reasons:  (1) very important people were going to be there; (2) I had to make a presentation to them; and (3) it was a meeting at night

I drove to the meeting in the dark with music blaring.  I felt free!  Almost like I was going to a party or a bar or out to meet the Cap’n for a date. WOO HOO!!!  I thought there was a pretty good chance that I was going to be able to hit the grocery store by myself on the way home, and I felt practically giddy at the prospect. 

It occurred to me that I should get focused.  I had to deliver some bad news to the Very Important People; we were delaying a project for six months.  And one of those people had a reputation for yelling at staff when she thought they weren’t doing their jobs right.  Even if it was in front of a room full of people.  She’d also been known to speak to your supervisor if she didn’t like the quality of your work.  She was very tough.  We’d always gotten along swimmingly, but I was constantly terrified that she’d yell at me.

I pulled into a parking space with two minutes to spare.  I quickly brushed my hair, ate an Altoid, and put on some Chapstick while checking my appearance in the rear view mirror, music still blasting.  Then I locked up my car and sprinted into the meeting room – right on time.

Walking in, I took my seat and perused the agenda. Oh good. I was third.  Maybe that meant I could give my stupid talkitty talk and leave.  I noticed sitting directly across from me were the two people I found most intimidating -- the lady who might yell at me and a distinguished gentlemen who was my boss’s boss’s boss.  All of a sudden I got a little nervous.

Oh dear. The boss-man was looking at me.  I smiled.  He didn’t smile back.  In fact, he looked as alarmed as a prison warden just before a riot.

That was weird.

Then I noticed the Maybe Would Yell lady was staring at me, too.  She looked equal parts worried and like she smelled something bad.  She didn’t smile either.

I then nervously sat through the first two parts of the meeting, running through my talking points in my head and focusing on making everyone understand why the project had to be delayed.  They weren’t going to like it, but hopefully I could make them understand that we didn’t have a choice.  And hopefully they wouldn’t blame me.

It was my turn!  I stood up and passed out my attractive and colorful PowerPoint presentation.  I spoke for about fifteen minutes.  I’m not trying to brag or anything, but they were riveted.  I’m not saying that the subject wasn’t fascinating (community-based public health planning modalities is sexy stuff).  But it was all me.  They couldn’t take their eyes off me.  Especially the bossy boss man.  He was looking at me like I was made of magic.  The longer I spoke, the more entranced they became and the cockier I got.

I wrapped it up and asked if anyone had any questions.  They didn’t.  But they couldn’t stop staring at me.  There was a long awkward pause, and they moved onto the next agenda item.  I sat there feeling smug and awesome.  I had rocked this like a hurricane.  Had he been there, Ricky Bobby would have given me a fist bump and told me how I made that presentation my bitch.  And my office had been worried about how the Board would react.  COME ON!  Lydia’s here.  I got this.  Bossy boss man was still looking at me.  That dude wanted to have my baby because I was so awesome at public speaking.  I smirked and scratched the side of my smirky mouth that all those bad ass words had just come out of. 

Wait. Whuck?

Why was there red all over my finger nail?  It was like I had gotten into a catfight with Ronald McDonald.  OH DEAR GOD.  I discreetly pulled my cell phone out of my briefcase and looked at the reflective surface.  My worst fears were confirmed.  It wasn’t Chapstick that I’d spread all over my mouth in the car in the parking lot, with music blaring, in the dark.  It was bright red lipstick.  A tube of red lipstick that in the dark was almost identical to the clear Chapstick I thought I was putting on.

This looks just like
chap stick when you're
in the dark. And
you're an idiot.
I looked like a crazy person with 43 cats and a tartan lap blanket.  I looked like I took the wrong medication and was in need of immediate medical assistance.  I looked like I could start screaming deeply bizarre and disturbing things at any second like: "WHO TOOK MY KNITTING NEEDLES? I KNOW IT WAS YOU!"  I looked like a crazy hooker who might actually cause Charlie Sheen to think twice.   

No wonder they couldn’t stop looking at me. They were afraid.  No wonder they didn’t question the six month delay – they were hoping that would be enough time for me to take a nice, long trip to the Nervous Hospital.

The Maybe Would Yell lady suggested everyone take a five minute break. Then she walked over to me, a funny look on her face.  She said very kindly and softly, “Lydia, you probably had to get a baby sitter tonight.  Why don’t you head home to your children? That is, if you want to…” 

Oh this is fantastic.  She clearly thought she needed to get me the hell out of there as fast as possible.  She glanced quickly at my briefcase, as if she were afraid there was an ice pick in it.  And helped me out of my chair and gently pushed me out the door.

I didn’t even bother to look in the mirror in the ladies room.  I just drove home.  I walked in the house and walked right up to my husband and was like “Hi there. Notice anything?”

He looked amused. “What is all over your face? Were there clowns at your meeting?”

There was only one clown at that meeting.  It was me.

 Oh and also?
Suck it, haters.  I stay at home now. And it's not even court ordered.
(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

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