Booyah, Brooklyn Boulders

Yeah, we are super-hip. In our spare time, we rock-climb on 3th Avenue. Got myself a Mamapedia deal for four people to rock climb all the live-long day at Brooklyn Boulders, so I took Primo and my pops and sis. I thought it'd be as easy as showing up but apparently, you can't just hold the rope, you've got to get certified as a belayer. It took me like fifteen minutes on the phone with the very patient Bklyn Boulders guy to even understand the word "belayer."

"We need a delay-er?" I asked, "To pace us?

"A melee-a? Am I saying that right? Melee-a?"

"Ohhhhh, a belater. We need a belater. Got it. What's that?"

Turns out my sister, whose been living in California, knows how to "belay." so after sending my pop off to get certified too, we had plenty of rope-handlers. After I got over the horror of wearing those harnesses which squeeze a very unappealing part of your upper thigh -- in public -- I began my inaugural climb.

Pretty freaking exhausting stuff, this rock climbing. I guess that's the whole point. All in all, I enjoyed it, particulalry the climb which I designed specifically so I could step on the cool grip shaped like a screaming human head. Primo watched me from halfway up his climb and he shouted, "STEP ON THE HEAD MOMMY! ON THE HEAD!" and I was like, "I"M TRYING HONEY! I'M JUST SO TIRED!" But in the end, I stepped on the head and that's when I decided to call it a day.

After that, Primo and I headed to the slackline, which is a hipper way of saying "High Wire," which is what we were calling it til some better-informed hipsters corrected us. I am referring, of course, to the tightrope. Except this one isn't high, but low, so you can practice. It was incredibly hard and incredibly fun and while my dad and sis climbed the wall like there was a pot of gold waiting on the other side, Primo and I worked that slackline like it was closing time. Yet another reason I love that kid -- he strangely shared my love of circus arts.

So yeah, I'd rock climb again. Especially now that I've put in the legwork learning the word 'belayer."

Memorial Day

Burgers on the grill.
Summer blockbusters.
Turning the hose on your little sister.

This is what start of summer in the suburbs is all about. And I was delighted to partake this Memorial Day weekend.

We went grocery shopping and I was shocked to find the massive supermarket which already takes up at least a city block has grown even LARGER. It took over a liquor store next door and now is nearly TWO CITY BLOCKS long. I don't even know what to do in that supermarket. I just wander around in a haze, dazzled by how wide the aisles are, veering from one side of the aisle to the other. It takes me a half hour just to get a carton of milk. It is kind of wonderful to have all that space but kind of scary too -- I'm surprised they don't have more "Lost child announcements" like at Disneyland. That supermarket could secede and become its own freaking city.

Kids had a marvelous time, riding their bikes in the cul de sac and drinking icy cold lemonade afterwards. And of course, they enjoyed attacking each other with the hose. Idyllic really. Come Monday morning though, I'm chomping at the bit to get back to Brooklyn. Too much space gives me a headache.

You're late, Fairy Godmother

As you may know from previous posts, my daughter is obsessed with Disney princess and while I want to support her interests, I cringe, I wince when I hear that aggravating Sleeping Beauty singing about how someday her prince'll come. Its one thing to enjoy glamour and riches and another to sit on your lovely ass waiting for a dashing dude to make life interesting. So I am on an eternal quest to find her some alternative princess stories, like Paper Bag Princess, Princess Smartypants, and Princess Knight.

This month, thanks to discerning adults who know my tastes and my daughter's obsessions, I have two new alt princess tales to add to the collection.

Ten Big Toes and A Prince's Nose
In which a cool clever princess with huge, flipper-like feet meets a prince with a gigantix schnoz and make their own happily ever after. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder meets a double whammy Cyrano. Oh, and it rhymes. Take the mantra both the prince and princess recite before bed (a bit hitting-you-over-the-head, but what the hell, its a good message):

"I am what I am and its all right with me
I don't have to be different, I just have to be
I don't want to be somebody else, no sireee
I am what I am and its all right with me."


Fanny's Dream
This one makes me cry. Love love love it. Fanny Agnes, a "sturdy" farmer girl who knows how to handle her horse manure, waits for fairy godmother on the night of the ball at the mayor's house. The fairy godmother never shows. But Heber Jensen, the short farmer boy from next door, does, and asks her to marry him. She figures why the hell not and they go on to work hard to build a home together, have three kids and laugh together by cande-light. Then, suddenly, one night the Fairy Godmother shows up. tells her there's another ball at the mayor's house with an available colonel. Is she in or out?

And then she realizes, of course, that she already found her prince who is currently reading bedtime stories to their three kids.

COULD YOU DIE??????

Now that's a message every girl should hear.

Get these books, post post haste. They have made me feel infinitely less guilt-ridden when Seconda is listening to Snow White squeaking on and on about the dashing prince of her dreams. And really, that's what parenting is all about -- guilt alleviation.

Housewives Hangover

It’s a funny thing about being married and living in a tiny apartment with your spouse. You have to wait til your old ball and chain goes out to indulge in guilty pleasures.

I am referring, of course, to reality TV. Specifically the Real Housewives of New York. Or the spin off, Bethenny Ever After. Occasionally, Sister Wives and yes, every so often, Mob Wives. Basically, anything about crazy wives. That’s what I’m into.

Incidentally, David does the same thing when I go out except he watches shows about zombies, vampires or sociopaths. Not that different from my preferred programming except that his is fictional. I’m sure he watches all sorts of other stuff, too, on the internet, if you know what I mean, but I don’t inquire. A little privacy goes a long way.

Last night, David went to a concert and after the kids finally fell asleep, nigh on 10pm, I found my way onto Entertainment on Demand. There I found a veritable TROVE of Real Housewives just waiting for me to plunder it, And I plundered, oh, how I plundered.

I couldn’t stop myself from watching, as one watches a train wreck, the awful, irredeemable interactions of Sonja and LuAnn and Ramona. Part of the appeal of watching is trying to figure out who I hate more. Its an engaging task because who I hate more is always changing. They’re all so awful. But I’d have to say Sonja wins as most detestable personality. Between the lack of integrity and intelligence and the overload of ego, she can’t help but be a real front runner in that category. The Most Likeable easily goes to Cindy, single mother of twin babies and successful businesswoman, but I think I like her simply because she’s one of the only brunettes and has a great Brooklyn accent. Most Attractive goes to LuAnn who must’ve made the same deal with the devil Marisa Tomei did, because that broad, who’s got to be at least 45-50, looks more youthful than I did as a teenager AND looks like she hasn’t had any work done.

I’m suffering today, I’ll tell you that much. I watched so much I have a Housewives Hangover. I’m glad David will be home tonight so he can intervene.

Street Fair

Seattle, come collect your weather

I'll tell you something: If I'd wanted to live in Seattle, I'd have moved there.

By which I mean WHY THE HELL IS IT STILL RAINING?

This is some bullshit. Enough is enough. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I've used my stroller raincover so much in the past three days that it is literally falling apart now and I've had to patch it back together with duct tape. My new Chooka whale rainboots, while adorable, are not built for this level of immersion in water They are too cute to be fully waterproof. I'm sick of being spat on. And I'm sick of my kids having waaaay too much energy at bedtime for lack of running around. They've called for a return of the PILLOW FIGHT for God's sake. Something must be done. They decimate me during pillow fights, those ruthless suckers.

Seattle. please come collect your weather. She's a drag and she's worn out her welcome.

Hot Milk

I distinctly remember being about 7-8 months pregnant with Primo and deciding to put on a garter belt. Clearly I was having a crisis of confidence, a plummeting of self-esteem and I figured the thing to remedy it was get sexy looking. No faster way to feel sexy than a garter belt. EXCEPT when you are 7-8 months pregnant. Then its just ridiculous.

Of course the thing didn't fit on my waist. What waist? I had a baby where my waist should be. If only I had known about Hot Milk Maternity Lingerie.

A preggo friend of mine just told me about it and I think its such a great idea. I found many things about being pregnant totally sucky-- the five months of unrelenting nausea and vomiting, the sciatica pain, the back pain, difficultly sleeping, But I, for one, LOVED my pregnant body. I felt like I never looked better. Of course, when you upchuck several times a day for months, that happens. Not that I'm recommending it.

In any event, seven years too late, I've found a place to get a maternity garter belt. Cool.