This awesome, totally bad-ass scarf has filled me with craft-envy and I’m tempted to break out my dusty knitting needles. Here’s the link to the pattern.

Leave it to the Japanese to technologize an OCD. I’m helpless when faced with bubble wrap. I absolutely must pop every last bubble in the sheet and feeling its plastic squishiness explode under my thumbs is deeply satisfying and relaxing. Now there’s an electronic keychain that simulates the joy of popping bubble wrap with a twist - with every 100 pops there’s a bonus sound like a door chime, fart or an orgasmic moan. Bandai Asovision has introduced the PuchiPuchi so you can get your bubble wrap fix without the mess. You can preorder your PuchiPuchi here. Let’s hope this gadget comes wrapped with a healthy supply of real bubble wrap.

I wonder what’s wrong with me? Why am I such a mommy misanthrope that I can’t ever enjoy the most innocuous parent and me classes that every mom seems to participate in and enjoy? Asher and I had our first mommy and me class today at the preschool that he will attend when he’s old enough. Since my older son had spent several very happy years there, it felt like a home coming. I know all the administrators and the teachers and it’s like a family (albeit, a tad dysfunctional, but what family isn’t?). Yet, I still dreaded doing the Mommy and Me class.

Maybe it’s all the rigidly structured activities that have to happen in a certain order: free play, then rug time, then songs, then snack time, then finally outside time and then the goodbye song. The idea is to create a predictable routine for toddlers to bring a sense of order to their turbulent worlds. But for me, it’s yet another routine element to add to my already routine life. Not to mention the vigilant toddler wrangling I have to do for an hour and 15 minutes. Asher’s in the throes of teething and he’s a drool monster who insists on putting EVERYTHING in his mouth. So I have to follow him around prying toys out of his gaping maw and wiping them off and enduring the germophobic reactions from the other moms who watch what I plan on doing with the contaminated toy (will she put it back in the bin or set it aside to be cleaned?)

Along with the attendant drooling that accompanies teething, Asher’s also really really pissed off to be there. He doesn’t want anything to do with the other toddlers who have the audacity to look at him, touch him or play with the same toys he’s playing with. He spends most of the class crying or whining. Meanwhile all the other toddlers are happily playing quietly and the other moms are chatting in a relaxed fashion. Not me, I have an unhappy toddler velcroed to my leg and I keep looking up at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes. He cheered up marginally during the circle time while everyone sang “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “Row Row Row your Boat.” But now it was my turn to feel stupid and self-conscious singing these insipid songs and doing the hand movements while trying to keep a squirmy, bored kid on the rug.

Thankfully, snack time arrived and if there’s anything my kid excels at, it’s eating (just like his mommy). So in the short five minutes it took him to inhale cheese crackers and chopped up grapes, he was quiet and content. Although he kept trying to steal the snacks from his seatmates and I had to rein in his klepto behavior constantly. To my immense relief, we headed outside for play time and Asher perked up noticeably. He finally smiled and giggled as he did a face plant in the sand box and slid down the slide. We sang the goodbye song at the end of class (an annoyingly catchy tune that I can’t get out of my head) and it was finally over.

I had a headache as I packed Asher up into the car. He was exhausted and overstimulated and hungry and cried the whole way home - which really didn’t help my aching head. I put him down for a much needed nap and now that I’ve guzzled down ice water and Vanilla Diet Coke, I feel somewhat restored. I’ve never been a mom who’s been into group activities with other children. Even one-on-one playgroups will have me down for the count the rest of the day. It’s so draining to navigate other children and how your child behaves towards and around them. Not only are you trying to make nice with the other moms, you’re also under constant scrutiny and so is your child.

Every time a child (your own or another) does something “developmentally appropriate” yet undesirable like hitting, biting or throwing tantrums, it throws everybody into an emotional tail spin. In the case of my older son, he was a happy go-lucky kid who was the emotional equivalent of Switzerland. Totally neutral and non-confrontational. We never had the terrible twos, he never threw tantrums and I didn’t even know how time-outs worked because I never had to use them. Jonah was almost always the victim of another child’s aggressive behavior.

And now I have Asher. He just turned one and I can already tell that he’ll be a handful and seems to have no compunction about hitting and swatting other children. Sigh. I have another week before I have to go back to Mommy and Me, hopefully I’ll stop singing those songs by then.

Babies don’t come with instructions (a fact universally bemoaned by new parents), but if they did, it would read like the back of a shampoo bottle. Sure, these instructions have long been derided for their moronic simplicity, but it pretty much sums up 90% of your parental duties in the first year or two.

Babies thrive on routines and schedules, even though many of us adults do not. I love being a mother and I love my boys with obsessive ardor. But honestly, I find most of my maternal duties mind-numbingly dull and bereft of intellectual stimulation. Some of my daily duties, repeated ad nauseam, could probably be used as effective brain washing techniques by religious cults. When my non-mom friends ask me what it’s like being a mother, I enthuse about how it’s analagous to life before cell phones, color tv, TiVo and the internet. Sure, life was fine then because you didn’t know what you were missing, but now, you can’t imagine life without these indispensable items. But imagine being stuck on the same phone call, or tv show or web page and repeating it over and over again.

I wouldn’t trade being a stay-at-home mom for the invaluable time I get to spend with my boys. Their childhood is already slipping through my fingers like sand. But on a day-to-day basis, I feel like I’m running on a domestic treadmill and going nowhere fast. I swear I’m cleaning up the same mess over and over again. The same toys, the same Cheerios on the floor and the same loads of laundry. I once read a quote in an insipid book about motherhood that someone gave me as a gift (as if moms have time to read that crap) that said cleaning up after small children is like shoveling the walkway while it’s still snowing. Not that I know anything about shoveling snow, but it sounds oh so true. I think a better analogy would be that it’s like bailing out a boat that’s sprunk a leak. You may not ever get ahead, but at least you’re preventing the vessel from completely capsizing.

And then there’s the meals: breakfast, lunch and dinner and two snacks in between. I’m forever in the kitchen preparing food that gets thrown on the floor. And then I’m on the floor scraping off encrusted food and sweeping the same floor again and again and again. Reading the same stories (because my son loves the repetition), watching the same sign language dvd and shows, running the same errands to Target to buy the same stuff, and taking my older son to the same karate classes. The utter sameness and the endless repetition can be trance-inducing. The days blend together into a blur of routine.

It’s not that I’m complaining (okay, maybe a little) because it’s just an inevitable part of raising children. But it’s hard nonetheless and some days, I just long to lather and rinse and NOT repeat.

Since Halloween is coming up, I thought you’d like to download this free Skull Font here.

What’s cuter than the Skullphabet?

My Sweet Pea just turned one last Saturday and to celebrate this milestone, he decided to start walking full time. Technically, he had started taking tentative steps around 10 months old, but he was only a part-time walker - preferring the speed and ease of crawling when he had to get somewhere. Now he lurches and sways around the house with the drunken gait of a sloshed sailor on shore leave. The cats are startled by this new biped in the house. One of them was rudely awakened from an extended nap by a delighted squeal and a rain of drool from above as the newly minted walker strolled by. I swear the cat did a startled double-take as if he were thinking, “What the…? I thought this one had four legs. I’m confused.”

I knew that it was time to go shoe shopping for real shoes, a ritual I dreaded knowing that I’d stroll into my nearest Stride Rite and the sales person would take one look at my son’s fat feet and steer me away from the display of adorable tiny Pumas and Addidas sneakers and point me towards the ugly, white orthopedic shoe that come in Extra Wide. Having gone through this with my older son (who thankfully now fits into regular shoes), I was prepared. As predicted, the nice saleslady didn’t even have to measure before she steered me towards the three Extra Wide shoes on display. At least they now offered two styles of extra wide shoes in less orthopedic shades of brown, but they certainly did not fulfill my cute shoe standards.

Thankfully, I discovered Tsukihoshi shoes, a Japanese sneaker brand built on an extra wide platform to accommodate fluffy toddler feet. They’re ultra lightweight, machine washable and even boast an antibacterial, removable insole infused with Green Tea. I have no idea why you’d ever want to treat insoles with green tea, but I still think it sounds cool. They’re much hipper than those Stride Rite shoes and retail for around $40. What’s not to love?

I bought my older son a pair in camouflage and they’re the best shoes ever. Not only are they featherweight and ultra comfortable, they are easy to clean. Within three days of purchase, my son plunged into a mud pit and stomped around. I sighed and told him to hose off the excess, caked-on mud so I could run them in the washing machine. But to my amazement, they rinsed off perfectly clean. The mud just slid right off the shoes (they must be treated with something) with a little water and they dried off outside overnight and looked as good as new.

You can find these shoes at www.tsukihoshi.com or www.zappos.com

is this patchwork number by Louis Vuitton selling for $52,500. In addition to being one of the most expensive handbags, it’s also one of the ugliest. Don’t get me wrong, I like a nice purse, but this is just so ostentatiously tacky, I can’t imagine spending $52, let alone adding three zeroes. There are only 5 of these bags available in North America(well, 4, because Beyonce snapped one up) and 24 worldwide. What makes this bag so special is that 14 other LV bags had to be killed and dismembered and sewn together in crazy patchwork fashion just to create one Tribute Bag. So basically, this is the Frankenstein’s Monster of Bags. Here’s the Washington Post article about this purse.

For a list of handbags that are even more expensive, check out this link.

I’ve been guilty of practicing the five-second rule on occasion but now that I’m onto my second child, the time interval has stretched out much, much longer. In fact, I even allow my son to eat food off the kitchen floor that fell from his high chair 15 minutes ago. It keeps him busy while I clean up after his meals. I reason with myself that a little dirt couldn’t hurt and that it gives his immune system a much needed challenge. According this article, it turns out that the latest research supports this. Apparently, exposure to some dirt and germs is healthy because it gives our developing immune systems something to do and prevents the development of allergies.

My son’s first tooth fell out while we were vacationing in Mexico. Late that night, we remembered that the Mexican Tooth Fairy was supposed to pay a visit and we rummaged through our wallets, bleary-eyed. Unfortunately, all we had were pesos and the smallest bill was 50 pesos (which converts into $5 U.S. Dollars). Jonah’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the 50 pesos and we had to quickly explain that with the exchange rate it was really only about $5. I didn’t want to set a precedent that $50 was the going rate per tooth when we got back to the states. So just like that, the price of his baby teeth became fixed: $5 a tooth. I suppose I should count myself lucky, it could’ve been worse. After all, I could’ve had a wallet full of $20s, fresh from my weekly trip to the ATM. The cautionary tale for parents of children between 5 and 6 with wiggly teeth is: Always have singles on hand. Trust me, at midnight you won’t want to schlep out to the corner liquor store trying to get change.

He’s since lost a total of three baby teeth in quick succession and all his surrounding front teeth are loose and in danger of falling out. It’s as if they’ve all planned a mass exodus after their leader disappeared. My son resembles a pint-sized hillbilly with his gap-toothed grin and I hope that his remaining teeth stagger their exit strategy so that he won’t have all 8 of his front teeth missing at the same time and look like the village idiot. Every time he sneezes or bites into toast, I’m convinced the rest are going to come out. I’m not a particularly squeamish person but loose, wiggly teeth are way too graphic for me. Jonah absent-mindedly plays with his teeth by pushing it rhythmically with his tongue and I can see it swinging back and forth in his mouth, the bloody cavity and roots exposed for a moment. It’s all I can do to keep myself from ripping the teeth out just to get it over with. Too bad the Tooth Fairy’s only job is to collect teeth and leave payment - I would kick in a little extra if she would whip out a pair of pliers and pry out the other loose ones in one fell swoop.

I did a little research on the history of the Tooth Fairy and surprisingly, found very little consensus about the origins of this pervasive childhood myth. However, I did find an article from The Straight Dope website which consolidates some of the various information in a concise fashion. According to the acknowledged tooth fairy expert, Professor Rosemary Wells, the average going rate for baby teeth was about $2 per tooth in the mid 1990’s. She tracked the exchange rate for teeth from 1900 to 1980 against the consumer price index and found that the Tooth Fairy had kept up with inflation. It’s been over ten years since this study and I’ll bet anything that the going rate in the year 2007 is now about $5 per tooth. Considering that there are 20 primary teeth, I’ll have to shell out $100 by the time he’s done. And that’s just the beginning. The two bottom teeth are looking a wee bit crooked, so I consider that $100 a deposit for the inevitable braces I’ll have to pay for in a few years.

The recent controversy over the new CBS reality show Kid Nation has me perplexed. I’m not sure what the big brouhaha is about. In short, this show is about 40 kids, aged 8 to 15 who must create their own society in a deserted mining town in New Mexico. It’s Survivor meets Lord of the Flies. There’s been loads of bad press and criticism directed towards CBS for allegedly disregarding those pesky child labor laws and using children as fodder for entertainment and profit. Meanwhile, others have their fingers pointed at pushy, overambitious parents who exposed their children to possible danger and psychological stress all for fifteen minutes of fame. Call me cynical, but there’s nothing new about exploiting children for entertainment and there’s certainly nothing new about the stage parents who willingly sacrifice their offspring on the altar of fame. Not that lack of novelty makes it tolerable, but it’s not a disturbing new trend as some have contended.

But what I am truly confused about is how this show is supposed to qualify as entertainment. If you look up the word entertainment in the dictionary, it’s a noun that means “something that pleases, amuses or diverts.” If the commercials I’ve seen are any indication, then this show doesn’t fit that definition. Besides pedophiles, who is the intended audience? The adult demographic of 18-45 year old non-breeders aren’t going to be too interested in the shenanigans of a bunch of unsupervised children. If they liked children enough to spend their leisure time watching them, they’d have pushed out a few of their own.

As for the breeders, well, we are sadly too busy to watch much else besides children’s programming. Personally, I would never set my TiVo for this show because if I wanted to see unwashed, feral children fighting and running wild all I have to do is look no further than my own living room, local park or school yard. There has to be an escapist element to entertainment and I don’t need to turn on the t.v. to see the noisy, messy and chaotic drama of childhood unfolding. I’m already in the trenches.

So now that leaves the children as a target audience. But anybody who watches children’s cartoons will attest to the fact that many of these shows already exist in a parental supervision-free utopia. Some of my son’s favorite shows are Dora the Explorer, Diego, Max and Ruby, 64 Zoo Lane, Maggie and the Ferocious Beast, Maisy and The Backyardigans. None of the characters on these shows seem to have parents, or if they do, they aren’t doing much parenting. Dora and Diego’s parents do appear intermittently but otherwise they seem content to let their children run amok without so much as packing them a lunch or a feeble “don’t forget your coat honey.” Dora hangs out with some creepy little primate with a footwear fetish and Diego is perpetually in danger of contracting ebola and bird flu, or at the very least, rabies by cavorting with endangered animals (are you listening CDC?). The bunnies on Max and Ruby do have a grandmother figure who makes an appearance, but otherwise big sister Ruby has sole care of her toddler brother Max. A charming scenario but one that makes you want to call child protective services.

Maisy is a strangely inarticulate mouse in dire need of speech therapy and just lives by herself in her little house hanging out with other feral, inarticulate creatures who could also use occupational therapy. This show makes me very, very sad. Then there’s Maggie, an adorable red-haired little girl who spends her days lollygagging around with a developmentally delayed mutant beast and a super-nifty pig in a sweater vest named Hamilton who makes tea sandwiches and is probably gay and doesn’t want to admit it. Why isn’t she in school? And is it healthy to spend all her free time in a fantasy world with a beast of substandard intelligence and a fussy, sexually-repressed pig instead of socializing with kids her own age? If my pathetic psychoanalysis of my son’s favorite shows isn’t damning evidence that watching too much television addles the brain, I don’t know what is.

My meandering point is that for children, there’s nothing new or different about watching other children exist in a society without adults. Their programming already reflects this fantasy element and allows them to vicariously work out problems and issues on their own.

Besides, don’t we already live in a Kid Nation? Maybe the kids aren’t running root beer saloons and milking cows, but they still rule because they inform our choices as consumers. The U.S. is one of the only industrialized nations that doesn’t have a declining birth rate. In contrast to the “me generation” of our parents, we have made conscious social and economic choices that revolve around our children. Despite the fact that more women graduate from college than men, the stay-at-home moms are growing and recent studies of current female college students reflect that they also plan on staying at home with their children just like their mothers (a report that has many feminist scholars disturbed and alarmed). Restaurants and vacation resorts have becoming increasingly kid-friendly and designer clothing and furniture now cater to these petite princes and princesses. The celebrity baby boom reflects that kids are the hottest accessory next to an “It bag.”

If anything, I think the producers of Kid Nation are reflecting what’s going on in our increasingly child-centric society and possibly mirroring it through a so-called, reality show. Too bad it doesn’t look remotely entertaining.