April 8, 2014
by admin
11 Comments

Let’s talk about this one song from Annie.

Annie-filmYou know when you get a song stuck in your head? Or maybe you don’t know the whole song, so just one line repeats itself over and over in your head? That happened for me last week with the song, “I think I’m gonna like it here,” from the 1982 movie musical, Annie. It’s the song that the house staff sing with Annie when she first arrives at Daddy Warbucks’ mansion on some sort of orphan loaner program.

The line that kept going through my head was the one that the two old men say when they turn to each other and energetically shout, “WE’VE NEVER HAD A LITTLE GIRL WE’VE NEVER HAD A LITTLE GIRL!” Over and over in my head. “WE’VE NEVER HAD A LITTLE GIRL WE’VE NEVER HAD A LITTLE GIRL!”

It’s a wonder I can butter bread some days.

So I decided to go back and watch the song on ye olde Youtube, and — as with most of my favorite things from when I was a kid — I discovered a lot to be concerned about when re-watching this song as an adult.

Here’s the song from the movie:

And here are the lyrics. Let’s go through it together.

GRACE: Cecille will pick out all your clothes.

That’s some bullshit. I haven’t been able to pick out clothes for my daughter since she was 18 months old. I can’t even get her to wear a coat in the snow.

CECILLE: Blue is her best color, no red I think.

How about saying something like, “Hey Annie, welcome to our home. What’s your favorite color?” You know, to be welcoming and all.

GRACE: Your bath is drawn by Mrs. Greer.

GREER: Soap…no, bubbles, I think. 

What the hell, Greer? Well Annie, looks like you found the captain of the S.S. Fun Police.

GRACE: Annette comes in to make your bed.

ANNETTE: The silk, no the satin sheets, I think.

Of course it’s satin. Only a fool would put a small child in the silk sheets. Come on Annette, get your head out of your ass.

ANNIE: I think I’m gonna like it here!

Yeah, no duh kiddo. By the way, how many people work in this house? Why so much sweeping, dusting, and polishing? And why all in one room? Spread out, folks! You’re never going to have time to cut Annie’s meat if you don’t split up and get your work done.

GRACE: The swimming pool is down the stairs.

I think the chance that Annie knows how to swim is slim to none. You’re gonna want to head to the nearest Babies R’ Us and pick up some floaties, Grace.

ANNIE: Inside the house? Oh boy!

Stay away from the pool, Annie.

GRACE: The tennis court is in the rear.

Ha. “In the rear.”

ANNIE: I never even picked up a racket.

Do you see the horror on Grace’s face?! HORROR. She’s seen the alcoholic-driven work camp this kid comes from, and she’s shocked by no tennis?

GRACE: Have an instructor here at noon. Oh, and get that Don Budge fellow if he’s available.

Fact: Don Budge was a real tennis player, and the first American to win all four titles of the Grand Slam in a single year. So there you go. A little known fact for your next game of Trivial Pursuit.

ANNIE: I think I’m gonna like it here.

MRS. PUGH: When you wake Ring for Drake, Drake will bring your tray

DRAKE: When you’re through Mrs. Pugh comes and takes it away.

Drake of Warbucks Manor is SO the Mr. Carson of Downton Abby. Am I right? Come on. Those two could sit in a room together and shake their heads in distaste for hours.

Then we have Annie slipping and sliding down this menacingly over-polished floor in her shoes, which is not easy to do. They’re going to need to put down a layer of kitty litter if they don’t want a lawsuit.

GRACE AND SERVANTS: No need to pick up any toys.

ANNIE: That’s okay, I haven’t got any anyway!

No reaction to this. Nothing. Not one person stops and says, “You don’t have a single toy? Holy hell! You poor little girl!”  Is there a plan to get her any? This might be a good time to bring that up. But nope, Grace doesn’t even raise an eyebrow — I mean, it’s not like Annie said she’s never played tennis before or something.

GRACE: No finger will you lift my dear.

Excellent standards you’re setting for her. Best of luck when she turns fifteen.

ALL: We have but one request, please put us to the test!

Yes. That’s the first desire of any household servant who is suddenly taking care of an eleven-year-old. I wonder if maybe there wasn’t just a little bit of sarcasm there. As in, “No really, Annie. Test us. Please. That’d be just super.”

ANNIE: I know I’m gonna like it here.

So, why does it take seven women to make her bed including a supervisor? Is this some kind of remedial housekeeping program? I think I’m beginning to understand why these folks do everything in groups.

ANNIE: Used to room in a tomb, where I’d sit and freeze.
                Get me now, holy cow!
                Could someone pinch me please?

Good lord, can someone please give this kid a hug?! All the grinning and giggling is great and all, but for crying out loud…

GRACE: We’ve never had a little girl

ALL: We’ve never had a little girl

There they are! My guys. You are in my head always, boys.

ANNIE: I’m very very very glad to volunteer

GRACE: I’m glad she’s glad to volunteer

Did you catch the eyes on Grace there? Now THAT, my friends, is sarcasm.

GRACE AND SERVANTS: We hope you understand, your wish is our command!

ANNIE: I know I’m gonna like it here
SERVANTS AND GRACE: We know you’re gonna like It here

Never forget.

Never forget.

Well, I think after that song it is safe to assume that this living arrangement is going to be a disaster. And don’t forget that scene at the end of the movie where she’s being chased and ends up hanging off a bridge. So what Daddy Warbucks is going to end up with here is a former orphan with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder who won’t go over bridges.

Good luck with that.

April 3, 2014
by admin
20 Comments

Car-versations: I’m sure she meant well…

(For those of you who are new, I tend to have the most bizarre conversations with my kids while we are in the car. Thus, my series of Car-versations.)

My daughter’s kindergarten class is having a poetry reading on Friday. Here is the car-versation we had about it.

**********

Daughter: “Mom, I wrote you a poem for our poetry thing on Friday, but my teacher won’t let me read it.”

Me: “Aw. Why not?”

Daughter: “She said she said part of it wasn’t nice, but I didn’t mean for it not to be nice.”

Me: “Oh, honey. I’m sure you didn’t. Can you tell me how it went?”

Daughter: “Okay –

Loved as a lovebird

Heavy as a log

I love you, Mom.”

Me: “…Hm…it was the ‘heavy as a log’ part she didn’t like, right?”

Daughter: “Yeah.”

Me: “Yeah. Well, I think it’s very sweet and strangely descriptive.”

Daughter: “Thanks, Mommy.”

Me: “You bet.”

log

*********

I have decided to title her poem, “Love Song For Fatty.” I might put it on a pillow. Or a coffee mug. But probably not a tee shirt.

If any of you have had an unintentionally unflattering poem written about you, or your child drew a picture at school that made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself, AND I KNOW YOU DO, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

**********

OH! And a big huge sloppy thanks to Parenting.com, who included me in their list of their favorite mom blog posts this week! I’m really flattered and amazed (I mean, I use the F-word in there!) to be included. So thanks to all, and go check out the other “get real” posts they loved this week.

 

April 1, 2014
by admin
3 Comments

“Goodnight, Nanny-Cam” AND an awesome “10 Things” comment

I’ve never done a giveaway on the blog before. Nothing ever seemed so incredibly awesome that I was willing to go through a trip to the UPS store to ship it to someone.

But a week or so ago I got an opportunity to hold a giveaway for an extremely worthy cause. That cause?  Ridiculing modern parenting in a book that spoofs Goodnight Moon. I could not possibly wish for anything more.

It’s called Goodnight, Nanny-Cam. I’ve read it, and it’s hilarious. If you enjoyed Go the F**k to Sleep, you will love this one.

Goodnight nc1

One of my favorite lines is: “Goodnight wipes warmer and yoga mat, defibrillator and sun hat.” Love. It.

I am holding a raffle for the book, and the winner will be chosen randomly on Monday (not by me, by the computer). I will then announce who it is in next Tuesday’s blog post. I really wanted to make this raffle fun: fun for me, fun for you. Fun fun fun. So I have made up three thought-provoking, deep, meaningful questions for you to answer (actually, scratch everything but “thought-provoking”). You can answer one of them or all of them, and you can enter once a day.

I am so, SO excited to see what people come up with. This is going to be a hoot and a holler.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*********

The comments keep coming in for my “10 surprises from the first few days after delivery” post. There are over 500 in there now! If you get a chance, you HAVE to read them. They are INCREDIBLE. Just when I thought I’d heard it all, then I read a story about a woman farting directly into her husband’s face (bravo, Noelle).

But among all of the hundreds of comments, there was one that stood out. In case you missed it, here is Sarah talking about her birth experience in Brazil. I put my favorite parts in bullet points.

  • “I gave birth in Brasil, where i grew up. During labor, i forgot that i spoke fluent portuguese, so i had to rely on a translator.”
  • “I asked for pain killers, but her [the nurse's] solution was prayer.”
  • “At night, the nurses wouldn’t turn off the lights ‘so you will wake up if someone tries to steal your baby.’”

Thanks for all the comments, folks!!  They are a treat to read.

March 27, 2014
by admin
2 Comments

I review Divergent using a Theo James’ lips-based rating system.

On Sunday, some of my friends and I saw Divergent in a 21-and-over movie theater here in Seattle that has comfy seats and tables for your snacks and beers. It was nothing short of delightful.

I wasn’t expecting much from this movie. I’d read the book about a year ago and discovered that other than The Hunger Games, I have a hard time getting into books about teenagers. I guess it’s because they care about things like love and the future, whereas a cold, hollow, broken-down adult like me just can’t relate to that stuff anymore.

Theo-James-headshot

I mean…

In the end, it turned out that Divergent the movie was nowhere near as terrible as I thought it was going to be. That is as close to a rave review for this movie that I am going to get. HOWEVER — I was entranced thoughout the film and would watch it 100 more times. Why? The acting? Eh. The writing? Not so much. Theo James?

HOLY SHITBALLS, YES.

Now, I am not a swooner. I have not had a Hollywood crush since George Clooney (and I’d still ditch it all for a week in Lake Como with him.) But I am in my mid-thirties now. Swooning over actors is only cute when you’re six and when you’re eighty. When you’re nineteen, it’s expected. But when you’re thirty-six…well, you have to tread carefully. One wrong move and you’re one of those Twilight moms holding up signs for a teenaged Robert Pattinson with your daughter and her friends. The difference here is that 1) I am not very crazy, and 2) Theo James is almost 30. Not 18, 30. THIS IS TOTALLY LEGIT AND I AM NOT A WEIRDO (that, by the way, is what I am going to put on my sign if he ever comes to town.)

Yes, the true stars of Divergent are Theo James’ lips, who assist James in playing the role of Four. They are cultured, thoughtful, and possess keen analytical skills. So I decided to review the movie based on how many pairs of Theo James’ lips the different parts deserve. I’m not saying those lips are fair or impartial, but they are pillowy.

Here are my ratings, on a scale of zero to four lips.

(PS –  Spoilers, ahoy!)

*********

1. The Beginning: We meet Tris, learn about the different factions, and she and the other sixteen-year-olds pick their factions.

Rating: Zero lips.

Reason: No Theo James. Can’t give lips to no lips.

Theo-James-headshotnolips

 

 

 

 

 

*********

2. Tris chooses the Dauntless faction, jumps off a building, and meets Four.

Rating: Four lips.

Theo-James-headshot1Fourlips

 

 

 

 

Reason: Welcome to our movie, Theo James’ lips. We have been waiting for you.

*********

3. Tris fights and proves herself to be a worthy member of her new faction.

Rating: Two lips.

Theo-James-headshot1Twolips

 

 

Reason: There are scenes without Theo James. His lips feel this was a poor decision on the part of the director.

*********

4. Kissing scene. Raaaaaaaarrr. 

Rating: Three and a half lips.

Theo-James-headshot3.5

 

 

 

 

Reason: This would all be goodness, if it weren’t for the fact that while he looks like a grown man, she looks like she has to get home to study for a biology quiz. It’s a little off.

*********

5. The big battle scene, also Tris’s parents die.

Rating: Two lips.

Theo-James-headshot1Twolips

Reason: A surprise rating by the lips. Their reason is that while the loss of her parent’s was unfortunate, it was necessary in order to move the plot forward. You just can’t argue with those lips.

*********

6. The good guys fight back, beat up Kate Winslet, and skip town for the great unknown.

Rating:

Theo-James-headshot1Fourlips

Reason: One of the final shots of the film is a close-up of Tris’s face, and Four’s lips. That’s right — the last few minutes of the movie are all about them lips. Which is no more than they deserve, say Theo James’ lips.

 *********

Overall rating:

Theo-James-headshot1Fourlips

Four lips.

Theo James’ lips say, “Run, don’t walk, to see Divergent. We are magnificent.”

March 25, 2014
by admin
4 Comments

Paging Dr. Ruth, and a Thank You

Ruth, I need you to giggle incomprehensibly with my children about penises, please.

Ruth, I need you to giggle incomprehensibly with my children about penises, please.

I wrote back in October about a talk I went to where an educator gave advice to parents on how to talk to their kids about the birds and the bees. At this talk, I learned first and foremost that I am an incredible prude. I also learned that my approach of “wait till they ask” was not the best idea now that my twins are six, and it was time for me to drop the hammer (“dropping the hammer” is also, coincidentally, how I refer to sex.)

Well, a couple of months after the presentation I decided to sit one of my twins down and have the “big talk” with them. I had been cautioned not to go into any extra, unnecessary detail, so I just gave her the basic mechanics: A goes into B where C happens which creates D which leads to E and there’s your baby.

My child went quiet, then looked at me and said, “Boy, Mom…you’re lucky you only had that gross thing happen to you twice.”

Indeed.

I almost got into the fact that because she’s a twin, that gross thing really only had to happen to me once. But that just leaves us at a whole different level of wrong and confused, so I just said, “Yeah…ha ha…yeeeeeeeaaaaaaah. Hey, let’s go have some yogurt.”

One step at a time, right?

**************

I want to thank everyone who took the time to read and comment on my “10 Things” post. WOWZAH. That’s a whole lot of people with a whole lot of terrible hospital stories. I salute you all, my sisters in shamelessness. Whether you pooped, or you farted, or you did way too much of both, every one of you deserves a fist bump and an ice pack to put wherever you damn well please.

%d bloggers like this: