Those Happy Creatures Called Men

Men are just happier people.

Really, what do you expect from such simple creatures?

Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be President. You can never be pregnant. You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park. Car mechanics tell you the truth. The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt. Same work, more pay. Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress -- $5000. Tux rental -- $100. People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the time. Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase. You can open all your own jars. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend. Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hair style lasts for years, maybe decades. You only have to shave your face and neck. You can play with toys all your life. Your belly usually hides your big hips. One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color for all seasons. You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can "do" your nails with a pocket knife. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache. You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.

No wonder men are happier.

Bwahahaha!

Toy Cemetery

Answer me this.

How can a huggable little creature with such a heartachingly sweet and innocent face....

.... be capable of wreaking such physical devastation and mass destruction?

Alas, poor plastic figures!

Kindly join me in a moment of blog silence as we fervently wish these hapless playthings eternal peace and wholeness of being in the afterlife.

Amen.

Now that that's over with, I'm off to the mall to shop anew for my toddler.

So to the brand new toys out there: Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Making a Statement

My cowboy's shirt says it all.

Doesn't it?



Bwahahaha!

Starting Early

Little girls (come to think of it, so do big ones) love my boy.

They really do.

Whenever we go out, sweet young things suddenly materialize around my young soldier, desperately seeking his attention. They smile at him, pinch his soft cheeks, giggle at his perpetually furrowed brows, ruffle his soft thick hair. Some try to grab his hand or sneak in a hug or, for the truly daring, attempt to plant him a kiss.

Naturally, my flabbergasted son flees, as if his life depended on it, in the opposite direction from the gaggling, ga-ga gals.

And funnily enough, the more my baby runs, the more the fascinated moppets become set on chasing him.

Once, when were in the mall, a daddy turned beet red with embarrassment and actually apologized to me as he helplessly watched his toddler daughter incessantly pursue my panicked munchkin round and round endless racks of children's clothing.

It is the kind of amusing situation I've become quite used to.

However, as accepting as I think I have become of the fact that my miniature man has an undeniable charisma that lures diminutive dames like moth to a flame, I was still caught unprepared for this series of paparazzi-style photos that were snapped at his playschool . . .

Now, I am certain that the above pictures of Niccolo and his adorable classmate Andie were creatively orchestrated by their overzealous matchmaking nannies so that their resulting poses are more than a tad contrived.

Yet, my heart skipped a beat and I found myself getting ridiculously sentimental at the thought of my darling tot growing up and - it truly pains me to say it - getting a girlfriend.

When I showed the images to my husband, all he said was: "Wait til he's a teen-ager!"

Heavens!

I sure can wait.

Childproof!

Try clicking on the word “childproofing” on your search engine and you will receive a kilometric list of links teeming with all sorts of precautionary measures you should take to ensure that your toddler is safe in your home.

Secure your stairs with baby gates to avoid nasty falls! Buy adhesive mount cabinet latches to block access to harmful objects! Use toilet locks to keep your child from touching the germ-filled toilet water! Unplug electrical appliances when not in use!

Indeed, the security recommendations for keeping your place safe for baby are endless and more than sufficient to drive the meek of heart to the brink of parental paranoia.

However, I noticed that what the purported safety experts fail to offer is much-needed advice regarding the opposite side of the coin.

Specifically: what must be done to proof the house from baby?

For, as most desperate folk with a mischievous imp in their midst know only too well, a tiny toddler can wreak huge havoc in any peaceful dwelling. I thus took it upon myself to draw up a list of things that could help protect the familial abode from infant destruction.

Daddies and mommies, follow these practical tips at your own discretion:

o Remove all objects within reach of your octopus baby, the operative word here being all. Keep in mind that anything that can be grabbed will be grabbed and dropped to the ground to test the forces of gravity. (Important note: The higher the cost price of the item on display, the more chances of being singled out for grabbing.)

o Buy a bed with a warranty so you can replace it when your junior acrobat has worn it down it by jumping on it way too many times. Better yet, save yourself the trouble and buy your family a sleeping bag.

o Do not bother with wallpaper. Instead, have a fresh bucket of paint on hand so you can readily repaint the walls every time your young Picasso doodles wildly on them.

o Wrap your cellular phone in thick foam. Your mobile may not look as chic, but at least you can rest assured it will not crash into smithereens after being hurled across the room by your little Hercules.

o The above also applies to the remote control.

o Stack up on empty boxes and old wrapping paper. Bring them out whenever you need to keep your toddler preoccupied for a few minutes. Forget toys – they don’t work.

o Speaking of toys, save your money and refrain from buying toy tv sets, toy stereos, toy tool kits, toy telephones and the like. They don’t fool anyone. Your wise offspring will still prefer to play with the real things.

o Tape your favorite novels shut. Either that or be prepared to watch your baby Einstein open your precious books and gleefully rip the pages one by one.

o You can now sell your lawnmower. All you need to do is set your kid loose in the garden and you will have patches of grass (and flowers) plucked out by eager diminutive fingers in no time.

o Buy hundreds of rubber placemats and stick them together until they make up one big piece that can cover your entire kitchen. This is the only way to ensure that your kitchen remains immaculately clean after feeding your rowdy baby.

o The above also applies to your bathroom. Simply substitute placemats with towels.

o Stash all medicines in a locked cabinet – except your baby’s medicines. Those you can leave within easy reach because no matter what you do, children just hate, hate, hate taking their medicine.

o Experts warn that we must unplug electrical appliances when not in use. In truth, kids actually unplug all electrical appliances that are in use. So really, you can just leave everything on. Your troublesome tot will automatically switch everything off by eagerly pulling the plugs.

o Never shut the door. There is nothing like a closed door to turn your small angel into a wailing, shrieking, kicking, pounding banshee.

o Learn to stop saying no. The more you say no, the more stubbornness will ensue. For unruly rugrats, “no” easily translates to “Do it some more…fast…before I get caught!” Be smart and improvise accordingly. Try holding your tongue and letting them do whatever they want to do until they get tired of it.

If you have similar tips in mind, do share them. We the hapless have no option but to stick together and learn from each other in order to survive the topsy-turvy planet of parenthood.

Now, please excuse me while I pad our kitchen with placemats. Our two year-old bundle of crazy energy is getting ready for lunch.

Potty Head

Keen Parental Insight of the Day:

Successful potty training is rendered nearly improbable when the potential recipient of desirable behavioral conditioning is of the staunch mindset that the crucial item ingeniously designed for use at his bottom.....

.....is much better suited for proud display right smack atop his head like a sleek fireman's helmet.

Maybe the impish trainee's poor chargrined mother should have just purchased the sky blue potty instead of the red.

Oh pooey!

Transformed

It is two in the morning and the elusive peace and quiet I pine for during a busy day is at last thankfully at hand.

I am shrouded in dimness, with only the soft light of my computer screen emanating a warm whitish glow.

I glimpse my husband and little boy splayed beside each other on the bed. Their arms touch slightly, and I hear them both snore gently in a strangely comforting dissonance.

It's been a long while since I have been gifted with a moment like this, when the world suddenly gives pause and a reverent hush satiates the air. All at once, the possiblities for inspiration seem endless.

I cannot help but tense a little, as I sense the opportunity to write about something great passing me by.

I know it would be incredibly foolish not to seize the singular moment.

I should let the muses run amok in my being until I am driven into creating something memorable, something moving, something grand.

I could pen a heart-wrenching poem about eternal love, or craft a profound piece about the indefatigability of the human spirit, or come up with a dramatic story on the life-shaping events of my childhood.

Yes, I really should.

But I won't.

Because right here, right now, there is only one great huge overpowering thought in my head that is fiercely and shamelessly pushing out everything else and impatiently wanting to be let out and shared with all of you....

And it is this....

Watch Transformers!

Watch Transformers!


Watch Transformers!

Watch Transformers! (Yes...this photo has been added to better persuade the women!)

So seriously - just for now - drop the serious. Forget the overly profound. Cease the esoteric philosophical waxings. Halt the emotional psychobabbling.

Just lose yourself for a little over two hours and have some fabulous, fabulous movie fun.

Watch Transformers!

And with that, my poor stifled literary muses have no choice but to come back and try again another day.