Saturday Survey!

Answer the poll to the right and then leave a comment to explain:

How do you feel about your little ones starting school?

Mommy Quote of the Week

“By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacation-less class.”

-- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

How I Became a Sports Widow

When I married Hubby 9 years ago, I knew he was into sports. Like almost every guy, he obsessively watched games and sporting events on television. He scraped money together for Lakers' tickets and Dodger games. He had ESPN permanently plastered on his television. He played sports in high school and continued into college, lucky enough to be rewarded with scholarships, trophies, and plaques for his athletic skills. Upon graduation, he even became a team coach for his college alma mater. He began as their graduate assistant (which means no pay) and then eventually became the assistant coach for the university. Currently, he has been coaching at the high school level, for 9 years now.So, you could say, Hubby is not just a sports fan: he lives and breathes sports.

In a previous post on my other blog How to Get the Guy, my co-author Clemmy discussed how she's learned to deal with her guy's obsession with sports -- through compromise.

There is no reason for me to have expected his sports-obsession to change just because we got married. If you think marrying your man will change his habits, how he treats you, or his obsession with baseball, you are out of your mind. Because even after the ring's on the finger, he will continue to act exactly how he was before you got married. Don't expect your relationship to suddenly transform or get better just because you have rings on your fingers and are legally man and wife.

I knew this too. I knew going into the marriage that Hubby's sports-obsession would not change. Especially because now he was getting paid for it, and it puts food in my children's mouths. I would still have to endure the long hours of listening to that Sportscenter (yes, it is one word) theme music (da da duh -- da da DUNT!), Hubby retelling the play-by-play of "the most exciting game ever," and the nights of going to bed alone so that he could "just finish this play" on television. And now I know that "there's only 3 minutes left on the clock" actually means another 20. I'm used to the ache of sitting in the bleachers and watching yet another match of a sport I don't even like. A sport I know too much about for never even playing the game.

But I still find it frustrating -- because there are some things about the sports obsession that I will just never understand:

1. Hubby works 9 to 10 hours a day, coaching this sport. Then he comes home and writes up plays, shifts rosters, and talks to his assistant coaches. When he's done, and is ready to relax, he turns on the television... and watches more sports!
2. Whatever sport is on television (football, basketball, gymnastics, hockey, golf, dirt-biking, ping-pong...), Hubby will watch it with enthusiasm. I can't even talk to him, because he is in the zone. He can't hear or see anything other than the T.V. when sports are on. He's worse than the kids.
3. Not only does he watch the game, but he'll watch the reports, the replays, and all the talk about that game -- the one he just watched! With the power of TiVo, I thought all of this would be in the past, but Hubby still insists on watching all the replays and discussion about something he just saw!
4. Did you know there is always an important game on? It's always the preseason, or the semifinals, or the play-offs... and Hubby has to watch them all. Because, as he has told me numerous times, "Honey, this is a really important game I just can't miss." Funny, because that's why I thought we got TiVo, so you could, in fact, miss the game.

So, as the Olympics are ending and another season of sports comes upon us, I wanted to vent my frustrations with you as a Sports Widow. The remedy? I plan a lot of Girls' Nights Out. This gives him the chance to watch as much sports as he wants to, and me the chance to escape it. I guess that's what Clemmy was talking about when she meant "compromise."

You Love Me! You Really Love Me!

Thank you so much to Kally from A Little Bit of Life on the Side for my newest award: The Diamond Award! I am truly honored and grateful for this recognition. I'm just glad to know someone out there is actually reading this thing!

Of course, there's a catch. To fully accept this award, I must follow these rules:

1.) When you receive a Diamond Award, make a post about it on your blog.

2. ) Name the blogger from whom you got it, and attach a link to that blog.

3. ) Award the diamonds to seven other bloggers.

4. ) Link them.

5.) Tell them that they got an award!

So, although I read a lot of blogs out there, I have to admit: I have my favorites. And here they are:

1. Sweepea's Lounge -- I love reading this blog for frivolous and random entertainment. I also learn a lot about old movies, and it makes me miss living in L.A.!

2. The McMommy Chronicles -- This blog is responsible for a lot of the traffic I have at my blog. And she's fun(ny) to read. I am so grateful for her POW Fridays and for giving me an award, so here's my thank you to her!

3. Absolutely Bananas -- She also gave me an award, so I'm glad to reciprocate. And her blog is one of the most hilarious mommy blogs around.

4. Dad Stuff -- Here's a dad that understands cold, snowy winters and cold, rainy summers. I enjoy getting ideas on what to do when it's miserable outside. Plus, it's a fun read.

5. Creative-Type Dad -- Another daddy blog, this one makes me laugh out loud with his obsessions with KFC and Lionel Ritchie's mustache.

6. Chinese Take-Away -- Clever, insightful, and also funny. Being a mommy never seemed so much fun.

And last but not least...

7. She Just Had to Say It -- I love her posts that mix motherhood with martinis, and she's not afraid to give God credit for all the happiness in her life. You go, girl!

Thanks for reading, and I hope to gain some more blog favorites in the future!

Saturday Survey!

I hate to tell you this, but my real name isn't "pixie." My 5-year-old son's name isn't really "Volcano," and my 3-year-old daughter's real name isn't "Monkey." But I am a full-time mom, living in Oregon, and all the things that I blog about have really happened. Really. (I couldn't make this stuff up.)

The only person who knows my real identity is my husband. Hubby knows I blog, and he knows I call myself "pixie." And he knows I discuss my life with the kids, and he knows I blog about him. He even came up with Volcano's nickname.

Sometimes I ask him, "Did you read my blog today?" And the answer is always, "No." I don't know about you, but if someone I knew was blogging about my life, I would want to read it. Daily. So it made me wonder -- am I the only one out in the Blogosphere whose husband doesn't read her blog? Does your spouse even know that you have a blog?

Answer the poll to the right and then comment here. I'm dying to know!!

Mommy Quote of the Week

"If anyone has any ideas, let me know."
-- Jennifer Garner, when asked how she raises a child in Hollywood.

It's Not Personal: I'm Just Ignoring You.

Why do moms brag about their kids? Sometimes I hate hanging out with other moms, because all they do is talk about how wonderful and brilliant and talented their kid is. Don't they know that I think my kids are wonderful, brilliant, and talented too? Do they ever think that maybe I love my children more than I love theirs, and I really don't want to hear about how long Janie can hold her breath underwater or that Johnny learned to write the letter T?

Bragging to me is a sign of insecurity, that you're unsure of your child's status in the room, so you embellish his accomplishments to feel like you'll fit in. Well, guess what? In a room full of moms, you're going to fit in best when you talk about all the problems, the aches and pains that you experience as a mother. The marathon temper tantrum or the diaper that decided to leak in church -- these are the stories that bring moms together.

So please... tell me if Junior yells "NO!" in the middle of a grocery store, or if little Sally refuses to eat foods that are brown. But please... spare me the details of the size of your son's last bowel movement or how cute your daughter's singing voice is. The horror stories are more fun to hear, and the good stuff I can see for myself.

Saturday Survey!

It's been a while.... but it's back! The Saturday Survey is here, where you answer the poll on the right and then leave a comment explaining your answer.


This week's question:
Which "Gilligan's Island" character do you most identify with?

Mommy Quote of the Week

"Children are gleeful barbarians."
-- Joseph Morgenstern

We're Back, With My First McFight

I met my friend Ali at McDonald's for a playdate, with her kids Curly (4) and Spike (18 months) in tow. This particular McDonald's had a Playland, famous for child enjoyment, while notorious for its germs and child predicaments. Nevertheless, I sent Volcano and Monkey on their way once they had each finished an ample amount of Chicken McNuggets.

Ali and I had just settled in for a nice chat when Volcano came out of the Playland slide and ran over to me. "That girl hit me," he said, pointing to a girl who had recently emerged and ran over to her mother sitting at a nearby table.

"Maybe she just tapped you," I said, smiling at the mom. "She wants to play with you."

"No," Volcano insisted. "She hit me. Hard."

I smiled again at the nearby mother, who was watching intently, and turned back to Volcano. "Show me how she hit you," I suggested, holding out my arm. Volcano, eager for the permission to hit me, slapped me vigorously on the arm. Ow!

"Okay..." I began, trying to think of what to do. "Just tell her that you didn't like that and to please stop."

The nearby mom rolled her eyes and guided her daughter over to Volcano. "I guess we have to apologize to the little boy, because his feelings got hurt," she said sarcastically.

I shrugged. "I'm sure it was an accident."

The little girl just stood in front of Volcano without saying a word. He looked at me. "Just go play," I mouthed, and he was off again. The other mother threw me a fake smile and returned to her seat, rolling her eyes again to her friend.

Ali whispered to me, "What was that all about?"

Just then Volcano emerged from the slide again and shouted, "Mommy, that little girl did it again!" He ran over to me and showed me a red mark on his arm.

Supermom remained silent nearby as I examined him. "Just stay away from her," I said, giving him a hug. Again he went off to play.

A few minutes later we heard I high-pitched scream, then intense crying. This time it was Monkey, coming out of the slide holding on to her head. "Hair!" she sobbed. "Hair!"

"What is going on?!" I asked, grabbing Monkey and holding her close.

Curly and Volcano started talking at once. "That same little girl pulled her hair!" they shouted, pointing again to the culprit at the nearby table.

Supermom quietly guided her little girl back to their table. I waited for some sort of apology, or at least an explanation. After a few minutes, I turned to Ali and said angrily, "This is ridiculous. I'm leaving."

She began packing up her things too when we overheard Supermom say loudly, "Make sure to stay away from those kids."

That made Ali stop. "Is something wrong?" she asked, looking at Supermom in the eye.

She looked at Ali innocently and said, "I was just telling my daughter to stay away from your children, since there's obviously some sort of conflict."

"Good," I said with a smile, glad she was making some sort of effort to discipline her child. "Thank you."

"I mean," she continued. "I guess my daughter is being aggressive, or maybe your kids are just over-sensitive."

This made me stop and turn to her. "Way-way-wait a minute," I said. "Now there was no need to start name-calling. I didn't say anything when your daughter hit my son. And I didn't say anything when she did it a second time. Nor did I say anything when she pulled my daughter's hair. But I will not let you sit there and label my children. You don't even know them."

Supermom's friend stood up and said snidely, "Maybe your kids are over-sensitive because their mother is."

"Are you serious?" I asked them, looking around incredulously. "You're blaming my kids for what your daughter did to them? Unbelievable!" I continued to pack up my things as I shook my head. "My daughter's 2 years old. When she gets hurt, she cries. That's what 2-year-olds do."

That's when Ali stepped in, "If you had just taught your daughter some manners, this wouldn't have happened in the first place," she told Supermom.

Both of the girls blew up, talking over each other in a rage. "You have no right--" "How dare you judge us--" "Who are you to tell us how to raise our kids--"

Ali just shrugged. "Your little girl should've just apologized, and this whole thing would be over."

"This is ridiculous, Ali." I said, grabbing her arm. "Let's just go."

We began walking out, the girls still yelling behind us, when another mother nearby said, "Ladies, there are still children in here..." I guess she was afraid we'd start cussing or come to blows or something.

Ali pointed at Supermom and her little girl. "I know," she said. "So you better watch out for her."

Once again, I am yelled at by some mother who does not discipline her children. My kids do the right thing, and I still get labelled the bad guy. I just don't understand how some mothers do not take responsibility for their children's actions, and instead blame others, whether it be movies, music, or society in general. It reminds me of the mother who sued McDonald's for making her daughter fat, while she was the one taking her there once or twice a day. Take some responsibility, ladies! I am all for being your own child's advocate, but, come on, right is right and wrong is wrong.