Author Archive for mom zombie

10
Oct
08

MomZombie on the move

Hey! I’ve moved. You can find me here. Come on over. Stay a bit. I won’t bite.

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03
Oct
08

‘Call me?!’

I had a revelation today:

Blogging is like an affair.*

It’s all “look at me.”  And then it’s all “ooh, I got flowers and chocolates.”

And for a while it’s a blur of excitement and wonder and learning.
It’s sneaking off with the laptop when you say you’re doing the laundry.

Then, things change. Something turns a little and you realize maybe you’re a little obsessed. Maybe your thighs really DO look like they’re stuffed with packing peanuts. Maybe the Internets just “isn’t that into you.”

Then things start to slow down a bit. The Internets spends the holidays with the family and you’re left with some wilting stats. Next thing you know you’re thinking about rabbits and boiling pots of water on the stove and …..

MomZombie is taking a short break to get some psychotherapy and clean her hard drive.**

*Not that I’ve had any affairs (husband I know you read this).
**Soon relocating to a new site.

01
Oct
08

Careful what you say …

When my Girl from the West was a babe in arms, I cooed a promise into one of her little pink ears:
“Mommy wants you to grow up to be whoever you want to be. I won’t be one of those mean mommies who forces her daughter to vote Republican or chastises her for not choosing the convent as a career choice.”

If my baby grew up to be a bald, lesbian shot putter, that would be OK. If she aspired to be a minimalist performance artist who wore nothing but sticks and grass and chose to live in a refrigerator box in the town square, great.
It’s not that I want her to grow into someone whose lifestyle puts her at risk for ridicule and persecution. But I told myself I’d let the blossom unfold as nature intended. No making a righty out of a lefty or anything.

However, life doesn’t always play out that way, does it?

Say your babe in arms edges closer to adulthood and suddenly begins taking on all of the characteristics you abhor? Say you are an atheist and she decides to become a Born-Again Christian. Say you are vegetarian and she decides to take up bow hunting? Say you are artsy and edgy and she prefers to try out for the cheer squad?

Get the drift here?

I see my baby spinning out of my orbit so fast I’m not sure I got the flight plan before she launched.

I can’t help but recall my teen years. What hopes did my parents have for me? What was the sound of those dreams as they collided with the reality of who I was becoming? I know one of the biggest collisions had to do with my continued failure to subscribe to their religion. To this day, almost 30 years after leaving their church, I still get subliminal messages that they are not pleased, thank you very much.

Thankfully I have a number of friends who’ve traveled this bumpy road of parenthood. Their advice to me is to stop asking so many questions already! I’ll get more answers if I listen.

So this is my challenge of late: I must cross the razor’s edge. I must keep some distance, lead by example, have eyes in the back of my head and keep my flippin’ mouth shut — most of the time.

28
Sep
08

My girl crush


 

Oh Tina, you’re so fine

you’re so fine, you blow my mind, hey Tina, hey Tina!*

 

 

I don’t swing that way. But if I did, Tina Fey would be my “it” girl. She’s my girl crush. There aren’t enough adjectives to cover all the ways in which I adore this woman.  I’ve always liked her on “Saturday Night Live.” So smart and sexy. And when “Mean Girls” came out. Shut up! I was impressed, infatuated and amazed. What couldn’t this woman do? Sadly, I’ve not watched “30 Rock” regularly. Not because of dear Tina. Oh, no. Just me not having prime-time TV time in my life right now. But this weekend was the big one for me. I’m head over heels, Tina baby. You deserve every Emmy out there. You deserve to be president. Forget Obama. I’m doing a write-in: Fey-Poehler.

*apologies, I suppose, to Toni Basil and “Hey Mickey”

 

25
Sep
08

Break-up story

National Geographic Society

 

The signs of trouble are always right in front of me. Do I see them? Or do I choose ignorance?

In this relationship, our time together grows shorter with the passing of each hour. Sometimes my love slips out the door shortly after dinner. The bloom of our love fades by the day, from the vibrant green of infatuation to the faded gold, red and brown of neglect. Our once-solid foundation hangs on a frayed thread.

Each year Summer and I break up as intensely as  a first love. Yet each year I find a rebound guy pretty fast.

Autumn is cool. He’s colorful and fun. But Autumn is more of a whirlwind romance. He blows into town on a tropical depression, sucker-punching Summer to the sidelines. Autumn takes over fairly fast, rearranging the landscape and lighting to his tastes. And just as we’re getting comfortable with each other, drunk on cider and doughnuts, playing dress-up and overindulging in sweets, he slips away in the dead of night, leaving behind a note scribbled in frost:

“Watch out for Winter; she can be a bitch.”

24
Sep
08

Blog for change

 

Two things have me fired up today:
One, I participated in a campaign survey by phone the other night in which the caller spoke in a very thick accent. So much so that I could barely understand her questions. On top of that, the static on the line was so pronounced I imagined a frayed wire stretching from my home in the Midwest all the way across the Pacific Ocean to the country to which this work was outsourced. Please tell me I’m wrong about this. Disturbing to say the least.

Two, while strolling the booths at our city’s final art festival of the season last weekend,  a pre-teen boy with a clipboard approached me, asking in earnest: “Would you like to volunteer for Obama?”

I set down my iced tea and grabbed the clipboard to give the flier a cursory glance. Then I gave him the most honest answer I could: “I’d love to but I just can’t. Really. I wish I could.”

As our group moved on, I felt my face grow hot. What kind of lame-ass answer was that?

“You know, I’m just not a knock-on-doors kind of person,” I said to my friend and her college-aged son.

We all nodded in silent agreement and pressed on through the crowds. But it’s been bugging me ever since. I know how much this election year has been bothering me, gnawing at my conscience and worrying me.  

So it is with an odd sort of kismet that I found this today.  Read this post.  If you are enlightened, pass it on.

23
Sep
08

Glam Top 10

Welcome to another installment of Glamorous in Real Life, the brainchild of Marcy.

In this episode we examine how one woman’s biggest daily challenge has shifted from: “Should I have Greek, Thai, Mexican or Middle-Eastern food for lunch?” to “What ingredient can I add to this box of mac and cheese to make it stretch?”
Welcome to SAHM life. In a crapola economy. Where the husband is doing quite well but must travel out-of-state to achieve this. Where the toddler and teenage daughters continue to demand excessive amounts of stuff while their MomZombie is ready to employ Scarlett O’Hara’s methods of style and beauty. (Think curtain rods and cheek pinching.)
Consider these recent glamorous observations that make me feel oh-so pretty, happy and grrrr……

1. I spend too much time in my kitchen and not enough time in my bedroom.

2. I get up first, go to bed last, yet everyone else in my house “needs a nap.”

3. I have one child who clings to me like a spider monkey and another who flees the room like a cockroach when the light goes on.

4. I have had one-too-many shower-optional days lately.

5. The longer I stay out of the workplace, the more daunting it seems to go back.

6. The longer I go without a paycheck in my name, the more outdated my wardrobe becomes. (Clinton and Stacey, do you hear me?)

7. And it follows that the less money I have to work with, the more pretty shiny things I want.

8. The more obsessive about cleanliness I get, the more trashed my house becomes.

9. And it follows that when my house is at its very nadir of filth, including cat vomit in the entrance hall, the doorbell rings.

10. And it follows that it will be a hot guy conducting a poll.  I will not have showered. Something most likely will have just been scorched on the stove. I’ll just be happy I have on my “dress” flip flops. 

Be sure to check back with Marcy for more G.I.R.L. stories.