Who has the cutest baby?

Since my "baby" will be 7 years old in a few months, it can't be me, because in this situation, the cutest baby has to be under 2 years old.

Avon is starting a line of baby items - Bath and body, clothes, toys - called Tiny Tillia. The product line kicks off in April, but beginning March 1st, go to tinytillia.com and enter your baby, aged two or under, in their Cutest Baby contest. You could win some great prizes!

Then in April, check out the product line. The items look great, and even though I am not personally in the market for them right now, I know a few babies who I will likely purchase some of the items for!

Good luck in the contest, and if you have any questions about the products, please ask me - I would love to be your Tiny Tillia representative. As with all Avon products, the items will be able to be ordered securely online through Avon and shipped to your home!

Random snippits from 2½ days without electricity

Our electricity is back on, thankfully, so we are back home. We don't have phone, cable or internet, but we're so happy to be home, warm and with light that we really don't care.

When you're visiting random people who have heat, and staying with friends and relatives, there is bound to be blogworthy material.

The first night was spent with friends, which I would have rather done for the second night as well (and they were completely agreeable to it). Hubby thought it was too much of an imposition to do it for a second night, so we ended up at his mom's. At first we thought his sister and her family would be there as well, which I was not looking forward to. It would be quite crowded with 10 of us there. Thankfully their power returned, so it ended up just us, hubby's mom, and his brother who lives there.

My MIL led me to a room with a bed and an air mattress and said our son and I could sleep in there. I told her that all 3 of us would be fine in there. I'm hoping she was trying to be courteous due to a perceived space issue, because hubby and I have been married for almost 9 years...I think we can sleep in the same room at his mom's house without ruffling feathers.

Hubby's sister's friend who lives in our neighborhood, and has friends in our neighborhood, yet still seems to think we are the first people to call when she and her family need help fixing, carrying or rearranging something left a meesage the first day of the outage (which I just got yesterday) stating that she and her family were staying at her mother's house to stay warm and could we please call when the power was back on. Hello? Did she suppose we would be sitting home cold waiting to call her? And why doesn't she call her friend in the neighborhood? We are acquaintances. I'm not opposed to letting someone know when the power is on...It's just that assumption added with every other time she has called us first. I rarely ask people for many favors who I would not consider friends. That sounds really petty when I reread it, but you can't imagine how many favors that woman asks us for...and it's the only time we see her! It's sad when it gets to the point where a minor request is frustrating. That shouldn't have been frustrating...

I have not had coffee at work all week. I have been offered cups of coffee here and there at the various places we've been, and have savored them. This morning I made coffee, brought a travel mug of it to work...and it's awful. Bleck. What happened to my coffee making skillz?

I brought as many items to work to put in the refrigerator and freezer to try to save them as I could. Somehow I forgot the 2 containers of Sabra Hummus - One unopened. It is recommended to dispose of hummus that has been left out that long. Boo. That stuff's not cheap, either.

In which I talk about Taylor Swift instead of the fact that we've had no electricity since Sunday

Electricity and telephone have been out since Sunday due to snow/rain/ice storm. Our house is 40 degrees. We've been staying with friends and relatives. But, that's all I've been talking about all week.

So, let's talk about Taylor Swift. My son loves her music. He listens to her CDs and sings along. I like her music a lot, too. Deep down, I think even hubby enjoys it. I know he appreciates that she writes her own music. I appreciate that her music is not offensive, and she doesn't dress trashy like some of the other young artists who also sometimes serve as role models. Her music is something I can safely allow my son to listen to and enjoy, and I enjoy it with him. When I found out she was coming to Van Andel Arena in Grand Rapids, I was excited. I was particularly excited that they were offering $25 seats. My son's first grown up concert! It's been years since we've been to a Wiggles concert, and it was time to move on.

I managed to get the presale code for the media presale, and checked it promptly at the starting time - No $25 tickets. The price for better seats were $50 then $70, which we couldn't really justify, but even when I checked it for the heck of it 5 minutes after the presale started, nothing. Before the actual public sale date, Stub Hub had over 1,000 seats for sale for $90+.

The day of the official sale, I tried right at the starting time - Nothing. No $25 seats, and none of the more expensive ones.

I can't stand that although the artists try to provide an affordable ticket price, it has gotten to the point that people who actually want to go to the concert can't get to the tickets before the scalpers. Nothing available in the presale, and nothing available on sale day.

Not to speak for Taylor Swift, but I'm guessing she'd rather see my adoring fan of a six year old son at the show than see the scalpers make a profit of 4 times the sale price.

And since we can't justify paying $90 for $25 seats, my son will not be going to see Taylor Swift. Shame on you, scalpers.

UNhappy meal

Last night my son and I were on our own for dinner. I told him we could go out, and that he could choose the place. Since Cicis has been closed for a year, the next logical choice for him was McDonalds. This McDonalds has a playland, and we rarely go there, so it was quite the treat. My son had lots of fun.

EXCEPT for the crabby grandma who was there. She had hair the most unnatural shade of orange I've ever seen, and a granddaughter of about 4 years old who did not want to eat her cheeseburger. Our dinner was filled with listening to hear offer varying degrees of threats to her granddaughter (I tried, unsuccessfully, to talk over her at our table, even though she was on the other side of the play area.).

"Eat that cheeseburger or you don't get to play."
The girl said she didn't like cheese.
"I'm not taking the cheese off. Eat that burger or I'm going to take you into the bathroom and spank you."
The girl told her "I don't like you."
Grandma said "I don't like you much, either."
Grandma smacked her in the arm. I contemplated complaining to management, but I wasn't sure what they would/could do.
The girl told her "You're mean."
Grandma said "You haven't seen mean yet. Want me to take you into the bathroom?"

Eventually the girl ate her burger, and got to play, but goodness...Fun night out with Grandma.

I know some people still spank (I don't), and some people give a swat on the arm (I don't), but I don't like seeing it in public, and it all seemed a little over the top for what was going on. Makes me wonder what happens if she really does something wrong.

I wish parents and grandparents would keep their hands to themselves. It's what we teach our kids to do. Lead by example. I feel you can get your point across with words and other types of punishment, if needed.

At least his hair was cut well

Hubby got a haircut yesterday. He's a pretty no-frills guy. He gets his hair cut every 4 weeks, keeps it pretty simple. He goes to a chain place where you get whatever stylist is available.

He had never seen this particular stylist before, and if he never does again, I think he will be okay with that. She engaged in the obligatory chit chat, including asking where our son goes to school. She hadn't heard of the school, and asked where it was. Every time he would try to describe it, she interrupted with "Oh, by *some random place*?" He would say no, and continue to try to explain and she would again interrupt with another incorrect location. Finally, exasperated, she said "Are you even from around here? I keep having to tell you where these places are!" Um, okay.

At some point she asked where he worked, and that went smoother than the school location. The haircut went on. At some point she stopped doing a certain area of his hair and he said that he likes that a little shorter. She tersely said "I have a method. I'll get back to it."

At the end, she asked him if he wanted gel. He never wears gel, doesn't like gel, so he said no. To which she responded: "An important businessman like you should wear gel." And she proceeded to put in the gel.

A couple hours later, hubby rinsed it out. He was happy with the haircut, at least, but the service? Yikes.

Blog Share!

Presenting a post from my anonymous Blog Share poster:

I Have No Clever Title For This

My Mom thinks I’m selfish. Actually, this isn’t anything new; it just seemed like a good way to start the story for this blog share post. My Mom thinks I’m selfish because I want to be buried when I die.

Look. I’m a pyrophobic. I’ve always been pyrophobic and I can think of nothing worse in the world than to have my remains BURNED TO ASHES IN A FIRE.

The topic came up over the Christmas holiday (because *that’s* totally normal). Somehow the conversation turned to what we want to have happen after we die. My husband and Mom both want to be cremated. They both have very specific instructions for where they want their ashes to be spread. When it was my turn to speak I said that I didn’t want to be cremated, that I want to be buried. My husband knows this. He accepts it and he even understands it.

My Mother, however, went into this whole speech about how burying me would be such a hassle and it’s not like I would even be alive to know what was happening and I needed to learn that the world didn’t revolve around me and what I want so if it was easier for whoever gets left behind to cremate me then they should be allowed to do whatever is easiest and the least bother for them and I should stop being so damned selfish.

I would like to tell you that this was because she was freaking out at the idea of her daughter dying (hopefully not for decades, knock on wood) but it isn’t. This is the same woman who, when I was little, said “if you ever want to have friends you need to figure out what people want and then give it to them because nobody is ever going to like you otherwise.” It was kind of a harsh lesson for a single digit aged human to learn.

In some cases being accommodating can be good. My best friend is a vegetarian so I don’t eat meat while I’m in her home. She appreciates this and has never once said a single bad thing about my omnivoriferous eating habits. This is when being considerate and accommodating of each others’ lifestyles can be good.

At some point though, it stops being about consideration and starts being about “I am more important than you.” And that’s where I get into trouble and start to feel big icky feelings.

Another friend of mine, for example, is not a fan of the internet. She has no use for Facebook or Twitter or blogging. It’s fine—she likes living in the analog world (no kidding, she sent her first and only text message four months ago. It was to me. To complain about how texting is stupid). I work at home and social networking and blogging is how I socialize during my day. It’s how I feel less lonely. Instead of just accepting that we view these things differently and that what works for one does not work for the other, I do not dare pull out my smart phone in front of her. I don’t turn on my computer when she comes over. Why? Because she gives me a lecture about how I need to stop spending so much time on frivolous things and start taking up more of the hobbies that she enjoys. Yep—she comes over to my house and tells me how I live is wrong. When I defend my way of life, I am asked “why are you so narrow minded? Can’t you see that your brain needs expanding?”

I guess that’s what this post is about. I’m really really tired of always being the one who isn’t important. I feel sometimes like I’m supposed to accept that I am lesser than everybody else. My plans are the ones that get changed to accommodate someone else’s needs or wants. I’m expected to keep my mouth shut when someone says something that is offensive because “that’s just how they feel. They’re allowed to feel how they feel.” What about how I feel? What about what I need? Why does it automatically matter less than someone else? Most importantly: why do I let it?

Someday, when I can afford it, some therapist is going to make a lot of money from me.

I don’t have anywhere specific that I’m going with this. I just needed to talk about it and my blog is read by several people who would feel the need to call me up and tell me my I’m wrong to feel the way I feel (some of them would use incredibly high volume tones to do so) and the whole point of this post is that I’m tired of dealing with stuff like that. So, instead, I guess I’ll just ask you guys: do you ever feel this way? What do you do when/if you feel this way?

The Facebook

I'm still a holdout on joining Facebook. I'm sure I'll give in eventually, but for now, it seems more convenient not to. Not that I'm not eager to reconnect with the other 400 people in my graduating class who I've managed to not reconnect with by other means in the past 19 years...

Anyway, I was talking to my dad last night, and I hear his wife in the background "Ask her if she's on 'The Facebook'!" My dad repeats "*wife* wants to know if you're on 'The Facebook'." I told him that I am not on "The Facebook". I did say "The Facebook", because I love when they say things slightly off like that, and far be it from me to discourage it. I gave him my usual spiel about not wanting to put all my business on there for a couple hundred people to see, and he repeated it to his wife, and I heard her say "Well I don't put anything on there!" So what the heck is she doing on "The Facebook", then? Heh.

Blog Share, rescheduled is this Thursday, so be sure to check back here on Thursday for someone else's anonymous post. Mine will be found somewhere on one of these participating blogs:

The Time for Change
Bright Yellow World
Reflections in the Snow-Covered Hills
Totally Serial
Daily Tannenbaum
Andrea Unplugged
Malfeasance
From Kim's Desk
Rediscovering Me
Mama Bub
Being Five
Nothing Is Easier Than Self-Deceit
Molly's Musings
Heidikins
Snarke
Did I Say That Outloud?
The Reluctant Grownup
And You Know What Else
Bwildered
Thinking Some More

Not Blog Share

Today I was supposed to be host to an anonymous post, courtesy of -R-'s Blog Share, but blizzards and such resulted than fewer than expected posts, so Blog Share is postponed until February 10th. Do you want to participate? Contact -R-. Blog Share is a fun opportunity to share something private or funny or whatever on someone else's blog, while giving someone else the opportunity to do so on your blog, all anonymously. I've participated several times, and it's always great fun.

In other news, I spent yesterday home with my son for a snow day, today is again a snow day (because of roads that are not perceived to have been cleared adequately) but I am at work and my son is at a friend's house (thank you! it has yet to be determined if she will be accepting compensation for this, but even if she does, it's less than walk in daycare rates). Hopefully they won't go for the trifecta and decide to close school tomorrow just to finish out the week. The roads are fine now, thanks. Hubby drove 20 miles to work; my bosses drove that far from more rural areas.

...and we don't even have a dog

When I got home with my son after school, our lower level was flooded. We live in a quad level, so thankfully the lower level flooding isn't as dramatic as it sounds, though it's still a pain. The lower level has a garage (not flooded), spare bathroom/laundry room/litter box area/cat spends most of his time there (flooded), hallway (flooded) and office/storage area (only partially flooded, and nothing in there was damaged).

It took a lot of cleanup and a plumber to get it resolved. A floor drain was overflowing due to some sort of sediment clog in the outside pipes. By 9:00 last night things were mostly back to normal.

This morning, when my son headed down to the garage so we could leave for school, he gleefully exclaimed "It smells like Rusty down here!" Rusty is our dog who passed on over a year ago. I believe what he means to convey is that it smells like wet dog downstairs, but he seems much happier about that than I am. Apparently another round of cleaning is in order.