One day a couple of weeks ago I was bored and needing something to do. Never a good thing. So, in the spirit of the whole diaper extravaganza, I decided to go online to see what other cool stuff there was to find.
WELL, I found this site called "totallyfreecrap.com"--who could pass up that name? It has all of these things where you can get free samples of products like shampoo and cereal. So I set up a separate email account and started signing up for things. So far, I think I've requested about 30 or 40 samples, and am just waiting to see how many I get.
Yep, it's ridiculous. And it's what happens when I have too much time on my hands. But if it means some free Aveda, I'm all over it. I'm sure you're all dying to know what happens. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Mario Mommy
I think that I'm having some sort of digital crisis. One that goes beyond the online world of blogging and Facebook and encroaches into our own little homestead.
Ethan got a DS for Christmas, and I am finding myself drawn to it more and more. I have actually been tempted to grab it out of his hands while he's playing Mario because "he's doing it wrong"--which I tend to think is not a terribly maternal thing to do. The other night I was trying to get his Nintendogs working (yes, I actually called the Nintendo hotline for instructions) and he and Eme were just trying to get little "Lucky" to recognize her name by calling it over and over. Unfortunately, you have to do it the same way and they were just babbling merrily calling to Lucky and I shrieked at them like some crazy person and demanded that they be quiet while I called the dog myself. Emerson looked at me like I was a complete and total nut and Ethan rather quietly reminded me that Santa brought him the DS because he'd been a good boy. Yep, give me that mom prize right here and now.
And if DS isn't bad enough, I keep playing all of Ethan's online Webkinz games as well. In fact, I told Dave the other night that we were going to have to buy more of the silly little critters so that we didn't lose our access, to which he suggested I might be taking things a little far. Obviously, he is jealous of my total skillz at Tile Towers--a game that he has yet to master. If there was an Olympic event in Tile Towers, I would totally be Phelpsing it. He would totally not be anywhere near the podium. He'd be like Dominica or one of those other little countries that send two people to the Olympics--although I'm sure he'd be the flag bearer of the two. I mean, he's my husband, after all.
I have a secret fear that I'm soon going to be scoring Mario games on street corners, or jonesing for a "Diego Safari" fix. I'll be picking used styluses up off the street, and trying to log on from dial-up computers. I'll be found in some seedy little house on the South Side, sitting on tacky furniture, surrounded by other digi-mommies with glazed-over looks and sore thumbs from hitting the "A" button repeatedly. I'll have to go into some kind of digital 12-step program, where I'll be required to un-bookmark the site, and have to close the DS for good, never to hear that joyful little "blip" when it powers on.
Nah, I'm not that bad. I'm sure I can just play a few rounds on weekends. Be a social gamer, you know? I mean, I'm not really an addict, right? Not me.
All right, we're all good. Now, who the &!*^ has Mario?...
Ethan got a DS for Christmas, and I am finding myself drawn to it more and more. I have actually been tempted to grab it out of his hands while he's playing Mario because "he's doing it wrong"--which I tend to think is not a terribly maternal thing to do. The other night I was trying to get his Nintendogs working (yes, I actually called the Nintendo hotline for instructions) and he and Eme were just trying to get little "Lucky" to recognize her name by calling it over and over. Unfortunately, you have to do it the same way and they were just babbling merrily calling to Lucky and I shrieked at them like some crazy person and demanded that they be quiet while I called the dog myself. Emerson looked at me like I was a complete and total nut and Ethan rather quietly reminded me that Santa brought him the DS because he'd been a good boy. Yep, give me that mom prize right here and now.
And if DS isn't bad enough, I keep playing all of Ethan's online Webkinz games as well. In fact, I told Dave the other night that we were going to have to buy more of the silly little critters so that we didn't lose our access, to which he suggested I might be taking things a little far. Obviously, he is jealous of my total skillz at Tile Towers--a game that he has yet to master. If there was an Olympic event in Tile Towers, I would totally be Phelpsing it. He would totally not be anywhere near the podium. He'd be like Dominica or one of those other little countries that send two people to the Olympics--although I'm sure he'd be the flag bearer of the two. I mean, he's my husband, after all.
I have a secret fear that I'm soon going to be scoring Mario games on street corners, or jonesing for a "Diego Safari" fix. I'll be picking used styluses up off the street, and trying to log on from dial-up computers. I'll be found in some seedy little house on the South Side, sitting on tacky furniture, surrounded by other digi-mommies with glazed-over looks and sore thumbs from hitting the "A" button repeatedly. I'll have to go into some kind of digital 12-step program, where I'll be required to un-bookmark the site, and have to close the DS for good, never to hear that joyful little "blip" when it powers on.
Nah, I'm not that bad. I'm sure I can just play a few rounds on weekends. Be a social gamer, you know? I mean, I'm not really an addict, right? Not me.
All right, we're all good. Now, who the &!*^ has Mario?...
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
My Mother Hates Me
| It is, as I write this, 6:02 in the morning. I have had 45 minutes of sleep, thanks to my mother. Technically, it's thanks to my daughter, but it's my mother's fault. That whole "I hope you have a child just like you" thing is really irritating me today. Emerson has, for the last two nights, determined that she would not like to sleep. She will lay down, close her eyes and breathe heavily, but at the slightest movement pop open those dark little eyes and begin chatting or, in the alternative, yelling. During the night, I "slept" sideways across the bed, with my head at the foot of the bed, on Dave's side of the bed (he safely relocated to the couch) and on about 3.5 inches of bed on my side. Emerson had her head on my shoulder, my arm, my pillow, my tummy, my back, my leg and my face. When she would inadvertently (or so I choose to believe) punch or kick me, I would get a chubby little hand patting me on the face with a "sorry Mommy" and a smile, defying me to be angry with her. (It worked until about 4:00 a.m.) At 4:30, Ethan joined in the fray, much to Emerson's dislike, thus bringing Dave in to get her and take her back to the couch. I've tried to decide whether I'm going to carry on my maternal line's tradition of cursing my daughter with a child just like her. Surely I didn't start this whole non-sleeping nonsense, instead inheriting it from my mother and hers and so forth. At this precise moment, I am actually thinking about expanding the curse to include twins, but don't think that's exactly fair. Maybe I'll sleep on it. Yeah, like that's going to happen.... |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
