Category Archives: At Piece with Yourself

The spy who loved me.

MP’s love of dress-up is well documented. Sometime in the final week of school, she decided she MUST dress as a spy.

She made a checklist and before bounding into bed, instructed me to find specific Spy Items for the outfit she had planned for the morning — emphasizing their utmost importance if she was to be believed as a true Secret Agent.

√ 1. A spy wears Dark Glasses.

√ 2. A spy carries an Umbrella.

√ 3. A spy only Wears Black.

√ 4. A spy wears a Floppy Hat.

The Secret Agent was a hit. Seems everyone wanted to play “Spies” at recess for days.

Later that week, Miss MP graduated from kindergarten. After assembling with her class at the front of the school gym, the group began singing the special song they had practiced diligently day and night.

Sung to the tune I’m a Little Teapot:

“I’m a little graduate

Aren’t you proud of me

I learned my numbers and my ABCs …

MP, however, covered her face and all that practicing hightailed it to the nearest exit.

The child. She is an enigma.

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The cheese stands alone.

Dress-up has always been one of MP’s “things.” Super Heroes have been popular at the Pie House too.

Just yesterday, she insisted as going to school as a ninja.

That net on her head? Yeah, that would be from the Easter ham.

I suggested her superhero name be Ham Head. Her sidekick could be Super Cheese. I’m told the yellow bolts emerging from Super Cheese’s head represent his super power, Stink. It makes the bad guys run away.

Super Cow would, of course, be a logical member of the posse, rounding out the Dairy Squad nicely.

Ham Head, Super Cheese and Super Cow should have no problem kicking these guys’ butts.

MP’s asleep, or I’d ask just WHAT/WHO these guys are. I have it narrowed down to either the Three [Badass] Blind Mice, which would go nicely with the cheese theme — or my unemployed friends down at The Cannery Bar.

Stay tuned.

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Grab yer raingear. Mommypie’s purging.

I feel like I need to purge. Just a little.

If you’ve read Mommy Pie for awhile, you noticed the dwindling posts over the past year. SERIOUSLY dwindling. There were many reasons behind my absence — so many, in fact, that when they came together, they created a Perfect Storm of sorts. Not really a hurricane. And nothing as energizing as lightning. More like months of BLUH. With occasional pea-sized hail shots to the head.

I can attribute it to a few key things.

I started a relationship. Which, for Mommypie’s creative outlets ALWAYS spells disaster. My Creativity? A jealous mistress. She wants all my time. And when I don’t give it to her — when I become focused on anything OTHER than her — I get the silent treatment. She never calls. She never writes. And I sure as hell never get laid.

The relationship got complicated. After a VERY public proposal, things were fantastic. Then, they were difficult. Then weird. And now, unsettled and unsure. So … I don’t really feel like I can write about it just yet. Which is hard, because I WANT to. Kind of.

I started a business. Swap Mamas has become my all-consuming passion. After a year, we’re closing in on 6,600 members and over 1 million page views a month. But more importantly, we’re helping a ton of mamas. Which is highly addicting to someone like me who secretly loves the warm squishy pink fuzzies. (Side note: Just bought a book about Google, who’s mission statement is “Don’t be evil.” I’m stealing it.)

I became incredibly disillusioned with the state of blogging. As Mommy Pie got more popular, companies started approaching me. Wanting me to pimp their products. (Do a giveaway? What, you’ll give me something FREE?) Honestly I felt a bit gross about it from the start, but my famously convenient, “What the hell? Why not?” Mechanism kicked in. Ugh. I should KNOW better by now.

There are TONS of mommy bloggers out there doing reviews in exchange for product. I absolutely mean no disrespect. As much as I’m a sucker for free stuff, Mommy Pie just isn’t the right place. This blog is for ME. This blog is for my DAUGHTER. No one else. And I won’t be doing the review/giveaway thing in this space (I WILL continue to do giveaways on Swap Mamas. ‘Cause that’s different.) ever again. It dilutes the joy blogging brings me, and generally makes me sad to think about how, in such a short period of time, our culture of consumerism has penetrated a space I so love.

{Penetrated a space. Heh heh.}

Oooooh look out Doogs. The 11-year-old boy is BACK.

There you have it. I think my absence has successfully reduced my readership enough to make the pimpage offers dwindle as well. As for Swap Mamas? I’m slowly realizing the importance of balance. All work and no play does, indeed, make Mommypie a very dull girl.

So yesh … I think I’m back.

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Little Miss Manners

So I’m in Connecticut with The Boy. No time to talk (ahem) … let’s just say it’s AH.MAY.ZING. With emphasis on the ZING. Badabump.

In place of a juicy post, I leave you with this little scene from the car earlier last week, as MP and I drove to town. Because it so perfectly illustrates one of the BAZILLION reasons I love the kid so much.

ME: (Drive, drive, drive. Look into rear view mirror. Exaggerated hand waving.) PHEW! MP, was that you??

MP: Heh.

ME: PEEE UUU! What do you say?

MP: You’re welcome.

Oh yeah. LOVE. HER.

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Gangsters, lumberjacks and yellow snow.

This …

mobilepart

is part of MP’s baby doll crib. Part of the mobile that connects to MP’s baby doll crib, to be exact. A girly thing.

Last night, MP emerged from her room, walked to the bathroom, and brandishing the pink plastic mobile part with both hands, looked at herself in the mirror.

“All right, let’s see what this baby can do.”
Snarly face. Machine gun sound.

Um, WHAT? (Trust me, it wasn’t easy to keep a straight face.)

“We don’t play guns, MP.”

“I’m not,” she says, still pointing her Tommy Gun at her reflection.

“Yes you are.”

And then, like the Master of Misdirection she is, MP began sawing the countertop.

“I was playing SAWS. This is a SAW. See?”

Okay, I know it’s more of a boy thing, and might sound a bit out of character for a four-year-old girl, but I gotta admit … I’m not really all that surprised.

This is the child who, earlier this week, as we were rushing into preschool purposefully spilled her lemonade from its sippy cup, leaving a yellow trail in the snow. Laughing to herself, and clearly VERY pleased with her effort, she noted that people were going to think it was pee.

“Heh heh.”

*sigh*

My daughter is Beavis.

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Blame it on Sweetney.

She wanted to know what I was doing right now. Right this very minute. She wanted a candid photo. No touch-ups allowed.

Which means NO PHOTOSHOPPING.

You all know that’s a TALL order for me.

But here goes. I didn’t even move my urban sprawl from the chair to check the eye baggage.

It’s late. It’s been a long day. And I apologize in advance. Apparently, I don’t give a flying fart anymore.

Feel like playing? Once the spots fade from your eyeballs, head over to her place and post a link to YOUR realness. And don’t forget to let me know too!

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Me In Six Or Less

The awesome Pajama Momma tagged me with a memoir meme — which makes me happy, because tonight … I got nothin’. (Seriously. WHAT does meme MEAN??)

Anyhoo, these are the rules:
1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you want.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to the original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
5. Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play…

I’m actually having a hard time narrowing it down to one sentence. I did, however narrow it down to three. Not exactly following the rules, but … it’s my blog. And perhaps my choices aren’t so much in the memoir category as they are basic tenants I try to live by.

Life’s too short to be angry. (or Stop complaining and do something.) I am, by nature, an optimist. I have a hard time being around negative energy. I don’t get it. There’s a quote by Ernest Hemingway I’ve always loved that sums it up.

The world breaks everyone, and afterward some are strong at the broken places.

Everyone has issues. Everyone has their tragedies. Everyone has bills, and relationship issues, and medical problems, and debt and heartbreak and tough decisions. I know what it’s like to feel you’re at the end of your rope. It’s whether you step up to the plate and deal that makes all the difference.

Which brings me to #2.

You get what you give. Negative begets negative. I’m just sayin’.

And then #3.

Change is always an option. Even if it’s just your attitude. If you don’t like your situation, do something about it. I guarantee someone somewhere has it worse and would gladly trade their problems for yours.

I was eight months pregnant in this photo. (Not the most flattering pic, I realize.) For me, this image signifies change more than any other in my albums. Single and expecting a baby, I was scared out of my gourd, but in this proud moment after sealing the deal on our first little house, I knew everything was going to be okay.

I’m running out of people to personally tag, so if you’re reading this, consider yourself it! I can’t wait to read your memoirs.

Happy Sunday …

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