The Red and Silver

There are three things my new single life seems to center on these days and they’re all the same shades as my alma mater’s colors – scarlet and grey (or silver — it’s Vegas baby). Bear with me as I elaborate in a Seinfeld-esque rant.

Diet Coke. Nectar of the gods. If I was stranded on a desert island, leave me a never ending supply of the stuff and a bottomless bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and I’m happier than a pig in slop. A day without it is a day without sunshine and, trust me, you need to steer clear before the first few sips of its bubbly brown goodness tickles my tonsils. Can’t. live. without. it.

But I may have to. I mean, have you seen the prices of the stuff lately? I mean seriously folks, I should count myself lucky to find it ON SALE at Albertson’s for two 12-packs for $10? You’ve got to be kidding me. I remember when I could get 24 cans for $5 and I’m not THAT old. Apparently the good folks at Coca Cola think the recession has rendered their feces fragrance-free and they have us all so addicted that we’ll actually shell out for it.

I never thought I’d see the day that I’d willingly switch from the swoosh to the wavy bubble, but, I just bought my last 12-pack of DC. That is, until they come to their senses and bring the prices below the per-gallon cost of gasoline.

(Note to readers: If you want to suck up and win cool giveaways, send me some. I won’t pay for it from the grocery store, but I’m not above accepting it as a gift).

Netflix. If it weren’t for Noggin and Sprout, I’d send the cable guy packin.  These days I’m all about the little red envelope in my mailbox. It’s like Christmas every time. Yes, I know what I’m getting, and it’s just what I asked for. Commercial free. With all of the dirty bits unedited. I can even get the commentary and mindless crap that’s only going to make me mad at the director. But I love it.

Because I will fall asleep if I am sitting still for more than 10 minutes, I really love getting DVDs of the TV shows I was too cheap to pay for Showtime to see. I just finished season three of Weeds. That show rocks. Someone once told me that I reminded them of the main character, Nancy. Really? Wow. That’s a huge compliment. Personally, I think I look nothing like Mary Louise Parker, but, what the hell, who am I to argue.

Yep. That’s so me. Uh, well, maybe not. MLP is awesome and all, but she’s no Debra Messing.

Red Box. So, while I’m waiting for my prince charming my next Netflix red envelope to hit my mailbox, I’ve become prone to frequent drive-bys at my local Mickey D’s. No, I’m not loading my kids up with Happy Meals each night. I get movies at this glorious little machine that takes my dollar and spits out a movie for me. No fuss, no muss. It swallows it back and sends me a happy email every time. All for a buck and a few pennies (for good measure, of course). I can even reserve what I want online at any location I want. Need Religulous in Rhode Island? I’m on it. Bolt in Bellingham, Washington? Got it. New stuff comes out every Tuesday and they give out codes for free movies on Mondays. Don’t thank me folks, thank Utlimate Steve. It’s his fault.

So those are my addictions these days. Lots of shiny stuff with a dash of red.

What can’t you live without these days?

Help! I’m About to Resort to Toddler Bondage.

I suppose using blow darts on toddlers is illegal, right?

How about if I’m just using sedatives? Still a no-no?

Awww man. You’re no fun.

I’ve about had it.

Doodle’s toddler bed training has been going as well as can be expected, considering he’s got different sleeping accomodations between his two homes and daycare. He’s in his crib at his Dad’s, on a sleepmat at daycare, and in his toddler bed at my place.

We’ve pretty much got bedtime down to about a 45-minute routine and, despite some ups and downs his first night or two at my place, it’s progressing about as well as it can under the circumstances. But naptimes each weekend are about to send me over the edge.

I’ve tried.

My mom’s tried.

We follow the same routime and practices as bedtime. Busy/active days to wear him out. Quiet activity for an hour before. Stories, snuggles, and tucking in with Elmo. I’ve even followed the pattern his daycare teachers use during the week, hoping the consistency would lull him off to lullaby land.

He pops back up like one of these….

…time after time.

In the meantime, his sister is next door patiently waiting for her time with me and a few winks of shuteye herself. I feel really bad that she’s getting the short end of the stick in this one while I figure out what the heck to do.

Yesterday, I finally gave up after an hour and a half, lest I rip my teary head bald with frustration. He came down and played like a madman and passed out on the floor about 3:30. I let him sleep, sheerly for my sanity’s sake, even though I knew that he’d fight me later at bedtime (which he did, although it wasn’t as bad I thought it would be).

I’m about to give up and put him a playpen to sleep, just for my own sanity’s sake. But, if I do that, will I undo all of what I’ve accomplished at bedtime?

Normally when I hit these walls, I start scouring books and websites for answers. This time, I’m not finding a magic bullet to save my life. Between the back and forth that is the joys of equal physicial custody (which I think is great for the kids, overall), and the different sleeping arrangements, I’m yet to get the right recipe.

So, my quest for the next few weeks is to get advice for experts and parents about how to best tackle my little nap dragon. What do you all think? Are we back to babyjail for weekend nappage? What naptime routines are working for you? Any recommendations for off-season NFL defensive tackle looking for nanny work? I’m about at my wit’s end.

Photo Phinish Phriday III

It’s Friday. So it’s time to announce this week’s winner of the $10 gift card to Cold Stone Creamery to Horgon for…..

Elmo conversion 75% complete.

Way to go Horgon! Your card is in the mail.

Want in on the action? Give me your best caption for this…

So, what’s at stake this week? How about a $10 iTunes Gift Card! Woo-to-the-Hoo kids! Give me your captions in the comments for this post by midnight pacific on Thursday, April 2, 2009. I pick who rocks it most.

Much love. Happy Phriday, y’all.

Happy Bloggiversary to me!

Yep, it was one year ago today I made my first post over here on Fear and Parenting in Las Vegas.

Since then, there have been 283 posts and nearly 1500 comments.

Thanks to all of you who have read and commented. I really appreciate all of the interesting conversations I’ve had and fascinating people I’ve met through these pages this year. You’ve challenged me, loved and hated me, and inspired me to keep going even when I was ready to walk away from it all.

In case you missed them, here are 13 posts that I’ve loved this year.

1. Frayed nerves
2. Fears of a Four Year Old (Fantasy v. Reality)
3. You’re gay? You want to get married!?!
4. Happy Birthday Doodle
5. Thursday 13: Thirteen Weird Things at my House
6. Going Commando
7. My Redneck Mommy Moment
8. The Doodlenator
9. The M and M (and M)
10. I’m sorry. I forgot you’re four.
11. Oh my Godded!
12. Thursday Thirteen: The SkyMall Catalog
13. Letters I need to write

Did I miss one of your favorites? Give me some love and tell me which one you liked best. Entrants will be put into a drawing for an autographed copy of Rita Rudner’s latest novel, Turning the Tables. Get your entries in by Sunday, March 29 at midnight to be eligible.

Wordless Wednesday (Not really): I didn’t flash, but they did.

Earlier this month, I made plans to take the kids to this. I thought it would be a good way to get them out and teach them it can be fun to stand up for something you believe in. Well, apparently Boo believed in something else that Sat. morning. She dug her heels in and wanted to go to the park instead. I figured the event organizers would perfer not to have a screaming five-year-old ruining their event. I relented.

Here’s the video from the event. Hang in there until the two-minute mark. That’s when you get in on the action. See if you can find my friend, Amy, who’s apparently better at cajoling her kids into such things than I am.