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Wednesday
Feb182009

Matchy Matchy Happy Happy

Dear Target,

I'm about to ask you a favor, and I just want to make it clear that it PAINS me to ask it. PAINS ME. And kind of makes me want to puke. Sadly, though, I have been left with no choice.

You see, my dear daughter has decided that it's really fun for me and her to wear matching pajamas. There was a time when I very nearly fall to the ground laughing hysterically when I saw mothers and daughters wearing matching clothes, but I'm coming to realize that sometimes it's the kid's fault. I assure you, in this case it is definitely the kid's fault. Alexis gets ridiculously excited when she digs through her pajama drawer for a particular pair, then digs through my drawer for a matching pair. The smile on her face as she hands me my pajamas and says, "We match the same!" is enough for me to forget just how dumb grown woman look when they wear clothing that kids can wear.

In return for me voluntarily dressing in matching pajamas, I get a little gift from Alexis. She has dropped the whole thing where she would only wear wretched Disney Princess gowns. This. is. spectacular. Truly, it brings a joyful little tear to my eye to think of all those obnoxious Disney sluts sitting unloved in the back of the drawer. Definitely worth it.

So, here's the thing: Alexis needs to wear gowns at night. She can't do two-piece pajamas because just as the bottoms start to fit, the tops make her look like she's channeling Britney Spears in the bare belly days. I need to wear two-piece pajamas because me and gowns are not on speaking terms ever since that little incident with the bedpost. Alexis is OK with us wearing different types of pajamas, the fabrics just need to be matchy matchy.

Now, Target, you have made this little complication possible to overcome. The Nick & Nora pajamas are fantabulous, and I have managed to obtain three whole sets of Matchy Matchy Happy Happy Kid Pajamas. But, now that Alexis wants to match every. single. night we are experiencing a bit of an issue. We need more pajamas.

Sadly, you have exactly one set that will fit the bill right now. One is better than none, but that one? IS A UNICORN AND RAINBOW PRINT. *gag*

I can't do unicorns.

I can't do rainbows.

I DEFINITELY can't do them both at the same time.

So, will ya' please get some new Matchy Matchy Happy Happy Kid Pajamas in stock? I would be fine with sock monkeys, ducks, or even clouds. Anything but unicorns and rainbows. Just follow the above rules about gown vs. two-piece, and you can have my money.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

With much retail love,
The Lady Who Simply Can't be Caught Wearing Stuff She Liked When She Was Five

Tuesday
Feb172009

She's Got Moves. Unfortunately.

When Jen agreed to meet on Sunday to let our kids play together for a little while, I don't think she was expecting that she would need a protection order for her little boy, Dylan. She does. STAT.

Miss Alexis started out slow. A sideways glance here and there, a few location checks, but she kept coming back to me. Then we decided to relocate from the play area in the mall to the food court. This happened:

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Cute. Also, totally a "starter" move. Once we sat down to eat, Alexis moved in for the kill.

And again.

And again. And again. And again. And AGAIN. Seriously, I have fifty photos of my kid putting Dylan in a choke hold and then making out with the side of his face. And him enjoying it.

The good news is that I *think* Alexis was more "playing mommy" than she was hitting on the poor little guy. She was all about fussing at him that he couldn't run off while his mom was ordering food, and downright herded him back to us adults any time he tried to stray. At one point she even lectured him about "safe."

Don't try to argue with that little story I've built in my head. I either need to go with that, or look into investing in some crazy security system so I can lock Alexis is the basement for the next 20 years.

OK, 30 years.

Monday
Feb162009

The Trailer Trash is Furious

I grew up poor. Really poor. As in I grew up living in beat-up trailer in the crappiest trailer park in town. My mom, when she was able to work (which wasn't often), worked at Wendy's. My dad, once he got out of the Air Force, worked assorted temporary jobs, including a stint at a gas station. Right now I make about six times as much money as my parents made combined, even in a good year.

Because nothing was ever handed to me, I learned something very important very young--I learned that if you want something, you have to work for it. I delivered newspapers for three years to save enough money for my first car. I babysat so that I could buy myself clothes. I worked three jobs my senior year of high school so that I could go to Spain as an exchange student. I worked my ass off.

And I would have it no other way.

A strong work ethic has catapulted me to success. Meanwhile, I have watched former classmates who were given every privilege in the world grow into adults who can't function without talking to Daddy first. The same people who once looked down on me because I wore crappy second-hand clothes are now incapable of making it a month without asking for hand-outs from their parents.

There was a time when those people could get under my skin. A little insult there, a blatant put-down here, they were able to get me down. Then I grew up and realized that money isn't everything, and that working hard will get you what you want. As a bonus, I don't have to worry about being manipulated or guilt-tripped by someone who paid for something. Nobody paid for anything I have now.

I thought I was past all that feeling bad about myself cause of economic status thing, but it turns out not so much. Why? Because recently someone has made me feel like crap for not putting Alexis into an elite preschool. We CHOOSE not to put her into one, and I absolutely believe it's ridiculous to think the freakin' preschool a kid goes to makes any difference whatsoever on his or her success. I am absolutely evidence that the school you go to makes ZERO difference in one's success. It's all about learning to work for you want that matters. Period.

So, Alexis, we won't send you to a preschool that "auditions" its students. We won't send you to a preschool that costs more per semester than some people make in a year. We will not put you in a class filled with snobby kids who don't know what it means to be told "no."

We will require that you earn what you get.

And if anyone makes you feel like a heel for any of that, just ignore them. Your trailer trash mom will take care of it.