19 March 2008

At least he likes them.

I bought Conner some big boy "panties". Yes, I get lip from Michael for calling them that, but I'm a girl... get over it.


They have cars on them. Red and blue in both briefs and boxers, Conner's knew digs are an effort to get him potty-trained before starting Frazer's Pre-K (3's) in August, which requires girls to be "fully trained" and boys to be ... well... working on it.


Needless to say, my little man is super stoked about his undies, and unwrapped them with pure delight, flinging the plastic wrapping across the room and tearing through the package like a wild bore. I tried them on him, in the midst of a diaper change and made sure to explain to him that he could wear them forever (ok, with appropriate changings) if he would go "pee pee in the potty like a big boy".


He was sad to take them off. So sad, in fact, that he gathered up each pair, clinching them with all his might, gathered his juice cup and headed off to his bedroom for nap. Yes, that's right. He slept with his panties in his arms, holding them tightly while drifting off to dream of a land filled with brand new packages of little boy panties all waiting to be opened and cuddled with.

And the award goes to...

Thank you Lydia for this HILARIOUS (yet apparently real) letter.

Please enjoy the following, ladies.


This is an actual letter from an Austin woman sent to American Company
Proctor and Gamble regarding their feminine products. She really gets
rolling after the first paragraph... PC Magazine's 2007 editors' choice for
best web mail-award-winning letter....

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for over20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core or Dry-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos, on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Eversuffered from 'the curse'? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills'. Isn't the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior.

You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last
week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, that you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants.

Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the
throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.' Are you fu*ing kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong', or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull sh*t. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.

Best,

Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX

13 March 2008

And THIS is what I make time for?

Chase is half-awake and will soon be begging for some mommy time. Conner just went down for his nap (thank you JESUS!). I've got a million and 1/2 things to do... but I chose to read about a 35-year-old woman who hasn't removed herself from her boyfriend's toilet seat in over 2 years. That's right. Oh, but at least he's been bringing her food and water.
Seriously, I've got issues ... but at least they aren't as big as hers.

10 March 2008

Daddy's Other Life

Disclaimer: The following blog is merely a moment from my toddler's take on the world. I am in no way using any of the following terminology in a negative light, as I try not to be judgemental of other's lifestyle. Please take this blog with little "seriousness".


Conner has a LOVE for adjectives... especially in the form of colors. EVERYTHING must be labeled, whether that be a "blue bird" or a "green cup". For the past few months, Conner has made an extra effort to name every vehicle's color while in the car driving on those oh-so-long trips to the Ham.

He also enjoys telling his daddy goodbye most mornings... exclaiming that "Dadda go work in truck". See, momma drives a "white truck" (it's an Equinox, but whatever)... Nonna drives a "white truck" too (ok, so it's really a Nissan Altima car...). His "Jack" (grandad) drives a "red truck" (once again... it's an SUV...). Well, he has never been too sure as to what color Michael's grey/silver Trail Blazer was, so he just never labeled it.

In efforts to expand his little world of colors, backing out of the driveway on the way to a Pediatric Urology appointment at Children's last Tuesday, I told Conner that daddy's grey truck was still here, but that daddy would soon be going to work. Conner's reply: "Daddy go work in GAY truck!"

Now, either Michael's working that other side of the river.... or Conner has a small inability to properly pronounce "r's". The truth: it's the "r" thing... as green is normally "geen". I should have though of that before labeling Mike's "truck"...


Since then, every morning that Conner is up when Michael goes to work, he walks him to the door, kisses him goodbye and tells him "Have good day!" "Go work in gay truck dadda!".

In hindsight, I should have chosen silver.

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