The Watermelon Fairy of 2011

Around August of every year, Cali and I sit down and she picks out the costume she wants me to make for Halloween.  This year?  A jacked-up watermelon fairy (see above).  Really, Cali?  A watermelon fairy?!  Not only that….I’m gonna have to make a pettiskirt.  Chiffon.  I hate sewing chiffon.  I curse the chiffon.  I’m not quite sure how I’m going to make those watermelon wings either.  I’m thinking wire, pantyhose and craft paint.  There’s a good chance she’s going to hit the streets looking like a hot mess on a tin plate.  Stay tuned for future progress.

Here are some of the costumes she passed on…thank gawd!  Don’t you wish you could dress like this every day?  I do.  I’d totally go to Publix dressed like a magical mermaid.  The majority of these costumes are available for purchase at Chasing Fireflies.


Parental Irresponsibility

I love Katy Perry.  Seriously…I do.  Her tunes are bouncy, she’s beautiful in that classic sort of way and she can rock a night brace like none other.  But did you know she used to have blonde hair, a different last name and sing Jesus songs?  Talk about the cross-over of all cross-overs!

Anyway…if you have a small kid you know that out of 5 million words in a day, they’ll hone right in on the nasty inappropriate ones…repeating them loudly in church, school and grocery store check-out lines;  meanwhile, you’re left standing there trying to defend your pathetic lack of parental monitoring.  When this happens, I usually blame the public school system.

For Cali’s first three years of life, the only television channel she watched was Noggin (pre-commercials).  It was also during this time that she ate oatmeal and eggs…and never begged for stupid toys that squirt cookie dough and glow-in-the-dark paint.  I can’t really pin-point the exact time we exposed her to the other televised programming for children.  All I know is that after that, she started swilling Bubba Cola, walking like a hunchback, picking her nose and wearing peculiar things upon her head.  She also refused to eat roughage.  Truth be told, she became plumb ignorant.

(See pics below for verification)

So back to Katy Perry.  My kid is also a big fan because I have my iPod chuck full of her tunes.  We’ll have the sunroof open, cruising down Slappey Boulevard, singing about extraterrestrials and fireworks.  It was during one of these jaunts that my iPod’s battery died and we were left with nothing but talking space.  So she’s back there, slurping on a Slurpee, looking like a hillbilly when she asks:

“Mama.  What’s a menage a trois?”


“A menage a trois.  Katy Perry talked about that’s what she could have might have did last Friday night.”


And in my most brilliant parental save-a-scene to date, I replied:

“Chinese food.  It’s Chinese food.  She had Chinese food last Friday night.”

Katy…consider yourself censored.

All Hail Dale. Genius Dad!

I’ve already got a list of things I plan to do when Cali hits the tweens.  Things that will make her question her origin.  Like pretend to be deaf at parent teacher conferences.  Laugh if you want….but the “Deaf Ruse” is one of the most popular tools in my manipulation tool bag.

Picture it.  A full flight, crammed in between a mouth breather and an elderly woman with a colostomy bag.  The oh-so-not-perky air attendant swears to holy god that there aren’t any pillows left, all the blankets are in first class and no more snacks for coach.  Enter in the Deaf Ruse.  I call the air attendant over, nodding quickly to let her know I was a wee bit challenged, then commenced to making jacked up hand signals and mouthing, “May I please have a pillow?”

Oh hark, the change in demeanor!  I got a pillow, a blanket, two more snacks and liquor.  If the air attendant had been paying attention, she would’ve noticed that I was listening to my iPod.  They don’t screen ’em like they used to.

Anyway…let me tell you about Dale.  He’s a stay-at-home dad who came up with a genius idea that would humiliate his 16 year old son down to the ground.  Every morning when the bus would come to pick up the kid….here’d come dad.  All dressed up in crazy stuff.  CRAZY!  Every single day…waving at the bus!  Some major news outlets caught wind of his shenanigans and invited him to come on down…Inside Edition, Good Morning America, Fox News.

Dale had the good sense to blog about all this mess.  You can see all 170 costumes over at Wave At The Bus.  Dale…you’re one helluva guy!  Enjoy your Daddy Day!

Bouncy Ball Kit: I Approve!

About a year ago, Cali picked out a $5 “activity kit” from Hobby Lobby.  The box claimed you could make bouncy balls in just a couple of minutes.  Really? I highly doubted it.  But it worked….and it was AWESOME! (I said that in a sing-song voice)

So awesome, in fact, that Santa brought her the deluxe mega kit for Christmas.  Since it’s 103 degrees outside today, we pulled out the balls and let the good times roll.  Here’s how we did it.  If you want some of your own, go here.


I came across these pics last night and just shook my head.  They were taken when Cali was about a year old….and I’d noticed her light was still on after I’d put her to bed.  When I opened the door, this is what I found:

Four years later and not much has changed except her shoe size.  God love her….

Hot Coffee. What’s That?

I would love to sit here and sip on my coffee and write a leisurely post on why I couldn’t get in to Vassar college…..but I can’t.  Because I have a naked 5 year old standing in front of me hollering about a house being on fire somewhere in the vicinity because she can smell smoke and will drop dead of smoke inhalation if I don’t get up and do something about it NOW.

So I threw a waffle down the hall for her to chase while I post some pics of what I’ve been making/painting/photographing here recently.  Everything is available for purchase at Whimsy Dreams…except for the photography.

My Kid is a Liar

All kids lie.  I know this.  But when it becomes pathological and blatant…it’s disturbing.  For instance:  The pictures above?  Yeah, I found those on my camera after my kid swore on her American Girl’s life and a stack of bibles that she had NOT touched my camera.  Like I wouldn’t find this out?!  And look at her snide little face!  It’s insulting and condescending.

What’s it going to be like when she hits the tweens?  I know I need to prepare for it…but most of my brain doesn’t want to imagine the type of lying scenarios that will likely go down.

“No, mom!  I swear to Granny that I didn’t sneak out of the window last night and go hang out with a homeless man, who was NOT a stranger because he offered me something to drink.”

I take minimal comfort in knowing that I’m smarter than her.  I think.  But will I be one of those Mama Snoops?  The ones who root through their kid’s drawers and pockets while they’re away at school.  I don’t want to be that mom.  But over the weekend, I came upon something while cleaning her room that jarred me to the bone.

She’s a slob.  I won’t deny it.  So I expected to find the usual junk.  Stale cheerios, lip-gloss smeared all over the bookcase, Gushers with no gush in the middle.

What I did NOT expect to find were sugar packets hidden like bags of crack cocaine.  I found close to 15 of them…hidden in the trunk of Strawberry Shortcake’s car, in the Squinkie gum-ball machine, up Tinker Bell’s dress, inside of a Happy Meal toy that was inside an old Christmas tin that was at the bottom of her toy-box.  A few of them were shoved under the flaps of her Fisher Price pop-up book and I found the last few in Polly Pocket’s horse trailer.

I was appalled.  Frightened. Befuddled.  So as I’m standing there waving a sugar packet in front of her face, all I’m thinking is, “In a few years, this sugar packet is gonna be a fat bag of weed.”

Of course, she reminded me that these were mere allegations and ran outside to harass the cat.  I used to worry about her being imprisoned for life due to her committing some whack and heinous crime.  After witnessing her not-guilty plea to Mom vs. Liar, I’m convinced she could hoodwink the most experienced and seasoned prosecutor on the circuit.  With aplomb.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my kid.  But she’s killing me, people….and there ain’t nothin’ soft about it.