Why other people's kids suck

1.  They are know-it-alls. And loud mouths, to boot.
2.  They cough and don't cover their mouth.
3.  They watch TV and convince your kid he should be doing the same.
4.  They have no food allergies and can eat whatever they want.
5.  They cough and don't cover their mouth.
6.  They poop in your bathroom and leave you to find it.
7.  They eat all the snacks in your house. Even the infant rice cereal. And they want more.
8.  They love McDonald's and think your kid should, too.
9.  They cough and don't cover their mouth.
10.  They weigh less than your twins but are twice as old.
11.  They are an only child but have five times as many toys as your kids. And their toys are cool.
12.  They are slightly older than your eldest child but feel too superior to play with him or acknowledge that he exists.
13.  They wear Burberry. 'Nuff said.
14.  They eat only organic food.
15.  They eat only non-organic food.
16.  They cough and....see above.

Living in a low-fat world

The problems of people who live in the suburbs are alternately amusing and pathetic.

Yours truly is depressed because I live in the suburbs and don't earn a real income despite a tremendous workload and pissy clients. (Out of privacy concerns I will forego using their real names...which begin with the letters M, L and C.)

Now the mister has been diagnosed with gallstones after a late-night trip to the ER. There is nothing like seeing your spouse doubled over from abdominal pain to instill fear in the heart and make you agree to some immediate lifestyle changes.

Which are as follows:

Eating low-fat. Like low-fat everything. I don't need to eat this way but am doing so because I am the bomb wife and I don't want to be a widow.
Taking more walks. This doesn't go over well with Magnus but he has no say in the matter, effective immediately. Put your shoes on and walk your ass outside if you know what's good for you.
Letting go of stress. A work in progress, my friends. Who would I be if I didn't stress? What would happen to this poor blog? It is too awful to even consider.
Meditating. Getting over the idea that you look stupid doing it. Also a work in progress.

My cooking is at a standstill since the mister has some restrictions about what he can ingest now. And most of the cheese in the house will need to be disposed of, tout de suite.

Oh, the plight of the suburbs. Somebody start a fund to save us.

We need to whack Caillou

If you are someone who has yet to encounter the sniveling, whiny children's character that is Caillou, consider yourself extremely lucky.

I am not sure there has ever been a more irksome kid or family for that matter. Caillou, who is supposed to be about four but acts like a two-year-old, is endlessly perplexed or flummoxed because things don't go his way. No kid is this annoying, trust me. After watching a few episodes on TV and reading Calliou books to the bubbas, it is clear to me that Caillou's mom is on drugs. She never raises her voice, loses patience or gives time-outs. Caillou's dad is also perpetually patient, wise, loving and hands-on. Is he really the father? Nobody could deal with this kid and not want to strangle him in his bath tub.

We need more authentic children's characters. We need mommies who look haggard and pissed off. We need daddies who mess up and yell. And we need to take out Caillou. Like right now. His name is confusing to spell and pronounce, but more importantly, he is training legions of kids how to be a total turd. I don't want to live in a country where that is allowed, do you?

I didn't think so.

Here to stay

Dangnabbit. We are officially still in our house in Camarillo for another year.

Like I need another reason to drink, right?

Shush.

Hear ye, hear ye

Faithful readers, the most egregious disorder has befallen yours truly.

It appears that within the last month I have become mute. I engage in conversation, I ask questions, I even shout down the hallway, and somehow, incredibly, nobody can hear anything I say.

For example, this morning, I asked the eldest bubba what he would like to eat for breakfast. He did not look up or respond. I repeated the question. Then again. Louder. I looked at J, concerned and helpless. Finally the lad turned to his father and declared he would consume yogurt and fruit, thank you. I was baffled. Was the child deaf? Did I die recently and was just a ghostly apparition, yet because of the extraordinary amount of laundry I have to do, I didn't realize I had crossed over?

Later in the day, I asked J about purchasing extra chairs for the patio table. We have some entertaining planned and I can't ask people to stand on the grass for an entire meal. He did not respond. He was looking at his iPad. I cleared my throat and posed the question again. I think he may have heard some inkling of vocabulary because he did look up and make eye contact. I yelled my question and he nodded. Why couldn't he hear me? Was he reading my lips? When did he start reading lips? Really? Huh.

I don't fault the babies too much. They are not quite 18 months old so any instruction I give them is going to be met with indifference. It is weird that when I say no they don't appear to hear me, though.

Anyway, I probably need to see a doctor. This is a serious disorder - my husband and kids' inability to listen to me - that could accelerate into adolescence and even young adulthood. It is disturbing and highly inconvenient, having to holler to get someone to look my way and acknowledge me. But medicine is moving at an incredible rate, I have no doubt that sooner or later, a cure will be found for this horrible mother's predicament.