Hey party people! I’m over In The Powder Room today reminiscing about my first (and last) authentic Mardi Gras experience.
I don’t want to spoil the ending, but let’s just say that if my daughter ever wants to go to Mardi Gras it will have to be over my dead, heavily beaded body.
I’m not kidding.
Come on over and read all about my maiden voyage to the Big Easy. I’ll bring the Muffalettas. (Not a euphemism.)
-Iris
Have you ever unwittingly rounded the corner in your own home only to discover one of your children doing something SO stinkin’ cute you thought your heart would pop right out of your chest and roll down the hallway?
If you are a parent, you surely have. Even if your babies are the fur baby variety, this is probably a familiar scenario. Right?
And of course, you never have a video camera rolling at that moment, or even a camera of any kind within arm’s reach.
God forbid you were to run for said camera because you just KNOW that by the time you returned the moment would be gone.
So you freeze and hold your breath and press the “record button” in your mind, hoping to never ever ever forget what you are seeing.
Well, as luck would have it, I walked in on my 4 year old son Bucket Head getting down to the song Funky Town by Lipps Inc. the other day. You know the phrase “dance like nobody is watching”? That is exactly what I witnessed. I’m telling you, it was a sight to behold.
But it wasn’t just his resplendent dance moves, oh no. Homeboy was singing along while he was shaking his money maker.
I held my breath and slapped my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t chortle and ruin the moment, but once I gathered my wits about me, I realized he was totally botching the lyrics in the most delightful way…and not just because of his well-documented speech impairment.
You know the part in the song that goes “…talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, talk about it…”?
Bucket Head was singing: “…taco body, taco body, taco body, taco body…”
Hand to God. I will never be able to sing it any other way for the rest of my life. Instant classic. I’m talking, “Hold me closer, Tony Danza” classic.
As predicted, once he realized I was watching, he froze up like a deer in the headlights. But because his performance was such a show shopper, I thought I might be able to get him to do a repeat performance on camera.
Boy oh boy, was I wrong.
The following is what we’ll call Just Another Precious Motherhood Moment:
This is why seasoned professionals know better than to star alongside children or animals.
Live and learn. And probably do laundry and/or tend to my personal hygiene more often.
yours truly,
-Iris
Linking this up to Yeah Write because something tells me that those bloggers know a thing or two about how to bring the funk to any potluck.
As part of their new monthly Wisdom from Mom Bloggers series, Babble.com just published a wonderful list of 25 Tips for First-Time Bloggers. Don’t let that post title fool you though; it’s packed full of great tips for any blogger, not just the newbies. And I’m not just saying that because I’m one of the bloggers they polled for input.
In fact, even though I am one of the contributors, I learned a lot from reading that list and put a few changes into effect immediately. (Thanks, fellow Mom Bloggers!)
It’s funny, it doesn’t seem like all that long ago when I was the new kid emailing more experienced bloggers for feedback and guidance.
And in a glorious full circle moment, two different bloggers reached out to me just this week for advice. One of them even forced me at gunpoint into the back of her minivan so she could serenade me with a Chicago song and smell my ponytail while I “put the lotion on.”
Fine, only part of that story is true.
But can you blame her for wanting to know “my secret” to blogging success?
I obviously have some skillz.
I can make fart sounds with 9 different body parts, sometimes all at once…sometimes without even trying.
Even my 2nd grade teacher Mrs. Rankin knew I was destined for something more than just the lead role as The Conductor in The Dental Hygiene Train.
This is why it pays to be a hoarder.
But good blogging takes more than just the ability to write stories. It also takes commitment, dedication, technical savvy, a willingness to embrace television as your babysitter, and in my case, a complete lack of decorum.
If I had better PR skills, I might call that “transparency.”
But I don’t. And apparently, after 41 years of searching, I’ve finally found a place where my untreated chronic verbal diarrhea is somewhat acceptable to more than just my mother.
Now, it goes without saying, “a good blog” means different things to different people. In other words, you say tomato, I say vagina.
So when someone asks me to tell them how I became “a famous blogger,” I’m not sure if I should say thank you or look around for the camera crew from Punked.
You see, I’m still evolving as a blogger too. I don’t know the difference between SEO and REO (Speedwagon). I haven’t the faintest idea how to use my camera or make a media kit or do a giveaway. And I vacillate daily about my “brand” and how to find a balance between authenticity and professionalism…particularly given my colorful vocabulary and penchant for scat photography.
Truth?
I look at the more “PR friendly” blogs with envy and think, “Wow, I wish I could get a free Elfa closet system from The Container Store in exchange for a blog post! But they’d never pick me because I would just say how much I FUCKING LOVE MY ELFA CLOSET SYSTEM SO HARD THAT I WANT TO LICK IT.”
And who wants to pay for that? Nobody. That’s who.
Mini-Me's maiden voyage to the land of Elfa. Enthusiasm and lack of impulse control seems to run in the family.
So basically, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I really don’t know what “my secret” to success is. Or even what defines “success” in this mixed up crazy blogosphere.
If you want to be a good blogger, just be yourself, and work hard, and network, and be kind, and try not to let the demons in your head sabotage your dreams too much. If you do those things, you’ll probably be awesome. I guess. Whatever that means.
Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want something more specific?
Okay.
How about this…
Blogging is a lot like sex:
• it gets better with practice,
• experimentation is encouraged,
• wine is fine but liquor is quicker,
• sometimes an apology is in order,
• and sticking a hamster in your anus is never a good idea.
Too much?
Damn it!
Well then go read Babble’s blogging tips. I wish that list had been around when I started three years ago…it probably would have helped me to avoid a lot of hamsters.
Happy blogging,
-Iris
One of the many wonderful side benefits of blogging is the ability to look back and see how things change over time.
A blog can also be a very useful instructional guide for the husband.
Last year on this day, romance was in the air over here. Or was that just the lingering odor of a poorly planned Valentine dinner? You’ll have to read my weekly column In The Powder Room today if you really want to know.
But this year, things are definitely looking up, and it smells better too. I’m not one to boast and brag, but let’s just say my husband and I are both making more of an effort to rekindle that spark.
And of course by spark, I mean understanding of the new cable channel guide.
Baby steps. Actually, I’m expecting good things today from life in general, because it is a universal truth that you get what you give. And if I can stay awake long enough tonight, I’m going to give my husband a Valentine he’ll never forget.
Friends, I hope you know today and everyday that you are loved and cherished, at least by me and The Big Guy/Gal driving the Winnebago in the sky. Because you are.
Now go read my In The Powder Room post, and then tell someone you love them, preferably in a way that is not an affront to any of their senses.
SWAF,
-Iris
Yesterday was “Muffins with Mommy” at Bucket Head’s preschool.
There were muffins.
There were Mommies.
And there was a presentation in which the preschool teachers took turns reading aloud each child’s previously transcribed responses to the “My Wonderful Mommy” questionnaire.
The teachers swear there was no coaching and that they honored the children’s exact words.
"Want to know a secret about my Mommy?"
{Ahem.}
The basic template for the questionnaire is something like this:
1.) My mother is the ______________ mother in the whole world.
2.) My mother can ______________ better than anyone else.
3.) She is also very good at ________________.
4.) My mother’s favorite thing in the whole world is ______________.
5.) My mother works very hard ______________.
6.) When my mother’s work is done, she likes to ________________.
7.) She looks especially nice when she wears her ________________.
As you can well imagine, this little activity is nothing short of a recipe for total heart-melting cuteness and/or utter humiliation.
Boy howdy, the moms sure did learn a lot about each other yesterday. And because I’m a giver, I’d like to share some of our secrets with you in the form of these darling cards I made especially for the occasion at someecards.com.
So yeah. Teachers of young children know a lot more about us than we realize. Note to self: give extra special teacher gifts this year.
very nervously yours,
-Iris
PS – Linking up with my peeps over at the Yeah Write community, my favorite one-stop-shop for the BEST posts of the week by 50 up and coming bloggers!
Look, Mondays can be hard. Why do you think there are songs like “Monday, Monday,” and cats like Garfield, and get-your-ass-kicked phrases like “Somebody’s got a case of the Mondays.”
But there is one thing I look forward to on Monday nights that always tacks a happy ending onto a typically rough day: watching The Bachelor and tweeting about it with friends.
Yes. It’s true. I am a fan of The Bachelor/Bachelorette. And I’m not even ashamed of it (mostly). This show is absolutely fascinating to me from an anthropological mating rituals perspective. Okay, fine, that and I truly enjoy all the skin and exotic locale makeout scenes. And the cattiness…oh Lord, yes please.
photo source: http://haveuheard.net
You don’t even have to watch the show to guess what the five women on the left are thinking about Princess Bitch Nipples there on the right.
I’m not here to sell you the show. It’s trash, plain and simple. But it’s delicious trash, and it brings me mindless joy. (Don’t judge.)
Ho-ever (not a typo), in spite of its dearth of redeeming qualities, there are some fabulous nuggets to be gleaned from this drivel. Specifically, examples that can help single ladies improve their chances of making a love connection in today’s challenging dating scene.
Here are the Top Ten Dating DOs and DON’Ts that I have ascertained from the last few episodes of The Bachelor:
1.) If you are ever talking to a guy and he can’t keep his eyes off someone else (like that scheming vixen Courtney), stop talking to him immediately and move on; you deserve better. (Unless you are a contestant on The Bachelor, then shut up already and kiss him like he’s never been kissed before…on the mouth, see # 5 below.)
2.) And speaking of first kisses, whatever you do, DON’T “Jamie it.” That was just plain awkward. Rule of thumb: if you have to give step-by-step instructions to someone on how to kiss you, you’re just not compatible. Game over.
"...easily one of the most horrifying moments in the history of the show." ~ Chris Harrison
(You know you’re dying to see it now, aren’t you. I’ll make it easy for you. Click here.)
The Ugly Cry
3.) Keep it on the down-low if you are on the rebound. Your date will never want to take it to the next level with you if he suspects you’re heart isn’t in it.
Not unrelated: never let a date see your ugly cry too early in the relationship. You may as well start pooping with the bathroom door open. Just go ahead and just pack it up, sister. Do not pass go, do not collect your rose.
4.) Under no circumstances should you EVER show your date the creepy scrapbook you’ve been making about him. Once he knows he’s the center of your world, the thrill of the chase is over; pack your bags, beeyotch.
"And I made this page with my own blood, Ben. We're going to be SO happy together, baby."
5.) Don’t be a slut. If you put out too early, he might keep you around for booty calls, but you’ll never meet his parents. Or like my Mama says, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free.” (NOTE: this adage does not apply if you are in fact only interested in some sexy time. In other words: “Why buy the pig when all you want is a little sausage.”)
Photo Credit: Screen Still via Entertainment Weekly
6.) If you badmouth other girls, it makes you look shallow and petty. Don’t do that. (Emily! Geez, for such a smart girl, you sho’ nuff is dumb about boys.)
7.) If you tell your date that you just want to get married because all your friends are already engaged or married, GAME OVER! Nothing scares a man away like the smell of desperation.
8.) Be a good listener. “I appreciate the fact that you listen to me” Ben said to Kacie B., the baton twirling doe eyed Girl Next Door. God gave you two ears and one mouth for a reason…use them in proportion. You can talk his ear off AFTER he puts a ring on it. (Your finger, that is.)
9.) Be flexible, easy going, and willing to roll with the punches, like the way Nicki didn’t let that torrential rain in Puerto Rico ruin her date with Ben. Men dig “low-maintenance” girls, or in Ben’s words: “It’s a turn-on!” (Granted, he’s probably talking about her wet t-shirt and not her attitude, but whatever.)
10.) Personally, I think a good tattoo can be sexy. But if you have a tattoo IN YOUR MOUTH, game over. Nothing says “tramp stamp” like a tattoo in your pie hole.
photo credit: http://abigpicturewindow.wordpress.com
I can’t even imagine how much that must have hurt. (Bless her heart.)
Got it?
Would you prefer it in 140 characters or less? No problemo. Or like Nicki would say, “No prob-a-LAAAAAAY-MOE. (Ben is mooooey moooooey moooooooey calienTAY.)”
For more The Bachelor related fun, check out:
Bachelor Ben Drinking Game by Connie at The Young and The Relentless
The Bachelor Season 16 Best Tweets from Week 6
And/or join me and my Bachelor loving friends on the Twitter next Monday night, 8 PM EST.
kiss kiss,
-Iris
Well, it’s Tuesday and that means two things:
1.) I’m a little hungover from watching The Bachelor and drinking every time Ben says “journey” or one of the women does something ridiculous.
2.) I’m In The Powder Room today oversharing about something related to my Down There Lady Business.
My family is so proud.
Seriously people, you do not want to miss my column today. It’s all about S-E-X! Oooh-weee! Come on over and read it…you might learn something new, and/or feel compelled to say a prayer for my husband.
with reckless abandon and Extra Strength Advil,
-Iris
(Originally published 2/10/11.)
What is it about Valentine’s Day that makes me feel such an urgent need to overcompensate for all my shortcomings as a wife and mother?
Perhaps you’ll recall the time I made a Valentine Tree, hand crocheted heart ornaments, and a vulva shaped coin purse? I think it started a few years back when my oldest child was in Montessori school. Oh, those were some rough years for a mom like me.
In my grossly generalizing approach to life, the mothers who choose the Montessori way usually fit into one of three categories:
1.) “Mother Superiors,” aka Über Moms, who are fiercely competitive “Type A” women on a mission to forcefully mold their kids into the future leaders of the free world.
2.) Hippie Moms who really dig the student centered Montessori philosophy and want their kids to have lots of freedom to work at their own pace and choose their own groovy work each day.
3.) Slacker Moms who are terrified of how their kids are going to turn out unless they shell out the big bucks for top notch private education to make up for the lack of intellectual stimulation at home.
Guess which one I am? Or was, rather. My youngest, Bucket Head, doesn’t go to Montessori school. Which is probably why he wears underwear on his head and enjoys “Shart Frackers and Douche Bags for ‘nack.”
Anyhooo….
Valentine’s Day always gives me horrible flashbacks of that first year at the Montessori school when I made the hideous mistake of sending in cheap-dime-store-made-in-Taiwan-with-lead-based-ink-cards featuring licensed Bob the Builder characters and actual CANDY containing gluten, peanuts, and red dye #40 taped to them. Oh, the shame.
When Nature Boy got home that afternoon, he tore open his beautifully decorated bag of “Valentimes” and there on the table were 15 adorable homemade Valentines and ONE tacky Bob-the-Builder “Put it there, Bob” Valentine/candy combo pack.
And of those 15 homemade Valentines, most of them included very special “I made these with my Mommy!” non-edible treats like heart-shaped crayons made from recycled crayon bits lovingly melted in antique collectible candy molds, or little red and pink pompom critters waving a paper plea to “Be Mine!”
I’m totally not exaggerating. Montessori Moms play to win. I probably should have known that by the large number of “ALTA Tennis Champ!” magnets on all the Hummers in the parking lot, but I was too focused on getting to school on time and getting the hell out of there before someone asked me to volunteer for something.
Yep. Those Martha Stewarty Valentines Day cards were a real slap to the rubber parts. So I made a mental note that Valentines Day is obviously more about the earning or losing Mommy Points and not really at all about the expression of preschool love. And, I vowed that I would never put myself or my poor children in that situation again.
So last year, on Valentine’s Day, when Bucket Head was attending his first year of non-Montessori preschool, I made sure we were ready to show those other moms how it was done. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present exhibit A:
Bucket Head's Homemade Butterfly Valentines, 2010.
Ta-DOW! Oh yeah baby. That’s what I’m talking ’bout.
Not only were they cute, but my toddler totally got to participate in most of the process. See those polka-dots? Bingo markers! And threading the pony beads onto the pipe cleaners? Holy hand-eye coordination practice, Batman! Sure, he got bored after making three of these, but the point is, we made them ourselves for pennies on the dollar!
Bigger picture: I was about to exchange my World’s Worst Montessori Mom crown for a World’s Best Non-Montessori Preschool Mom crown.
(Insert sound of screeching tires here.)
Not so fast, Grasshoppah.
Wouldn’t you know it, when Bucket Head brought his bag of Valentines home that afternoon, his butterfly card was the ONLY handmade card in the bag! And the butt loads of candy? For a second there, I thought I had accidentally enrolled my child in a Toddlers & Tiaras style beauty pageant.
I can just imagine those other mothers looking at our butterfly cards and thinking, “Aw, how sad. Little Bucket Head couldn’t afford real Valentines!” or “Well, lookie here. Bucket Head’s mom has an inferiority complex. Bless her heart. Let’s pray for her. Honey, bring Mama the fam’ly Bible coozy.”
Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. And some people wonder why I drink.
One of these days, I’mma figure it out, and when I do? LOOK OUT, BITCHES.
-Iris
© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.
And speaking of cleaning up your womb…
I’m looking on the bright (red) side of life today In The Powder Room.
Warning, it’s already been called “Gross but hilarious” on Twitter, so go ahead and read at your own risk.
Oh, and by the way? It’s satire. Just thought I’d go ahead and put that out there, you know, just in case I have any new visitors who wouldn’t know funny if it bitch slapped them upside the gum ball machine. And by gum ball machine, of course I mean vagina.
See you over there?
I’ll bring my hot water bottle and a fresh box of wine to share.
-Iris
Hi, I'm Iris. Welcome to my blog!
And that’s why I finally took The Mom Pledge.
Funny story: about a year ago, I came across a pretty little button on someone’s blog that piqued my interest.
And I thought to myself, “Huh. That’s odd. I’ve never seen anything even remotely redolent of online bullying, particularly by women against other women.”
Then it hit me like a sock full of quarters, “Oh my God…is she talking about ME? I am pretty snarky sometimes. OH SHIT. Am I a cyber bully?”
I immediately emailed the author, Elizabeth Flora Ross, and asked her to please tell me more about it.
Elizabeth kindly explained that she was particularly concerned with:
And I wrote back, “That’s shocking!” and “Oh phew, that’s not me!” and “Thank you for the information!” But I never did anything further about it; never took “The Mom Pledge,” never even gave it another thought.
As many of you know, last week my satirical blog post about Bucket Head and the gum ball machine was viciously attacked by a small and particularly hateful group of anonymous commenters.
It was eerily reminiscent of a (virtual) home invasion.
They crashed into our little community and verbally assaulted me, my parenting, my children, and even my readers. One of them even wished us bodily harm.
The whole experience was rather unsettling and caused me to feel a wide range of complex emotions.
At first I was like, “Huh?”
And then I was like, “Oh-Em-Gee.”
And then I was all, “Oh no she DI-int!”
And now I’m just like, “Ha!”
I’m just saying.
So where were we? Oh yes, Internet bullying.
I recognize that publicly sharing this blog puts me in a vulnerable position. It’s like hosting an Open House every day and not knowing who might walk through my door. And perhaps I’m at greater risk than some because of my colorful vocabulary and willingness to “tell all.”
But that doesn’t give anyone the right to disrespect me. Ever.
This particular pack of attackers chose to check their manners at the door and “crap all over my house.” Not okay.
Many of you who jumped to my defense here and on Twitter, Facebook, and your own beautiful blog posts (here and here) were as stunned as I was. Your support was incredibly comforting to me. Thank you.
Several of you applauded me for ignoring the nastier comments and thus “not feeding the trolls.”
Interestingly, some of these attackers did not take kindly to being called “trolls,” even though their actions were clearly in line with the Urban Dictionary definition of a troll.
Silly me, I didn’t even know what an Internet troll was before last week. But now I do, and I feel compelled to officially announce my stance on this issue:
Any questions?
No, I didn’t think so.
It’s really quite simple. No matter what your background, race, religion, age, gender, interests, or politics…just be nice.
Or like I say to the ladies at my church potlucks, if you don’t like what I’m cookin’, don’t fucking eat it.
Now, for you citizens of the Internet with your own blogs, I urge you to learn from my mistakes. Take action NOW. Don’t sit back and think “Oh, that will never happen to me.”
It can, and it might. It’s the nature of the Internet.
If I had taken The Mom Pledge a year ago, I would have been more prepared for how to deal with this issue. I would have immediately recognized the difference between a dissenter and a bully. And I would have known my rights and how I should react (by immediately deleting such comments and not giving attackers a platform for their hatred).
I’m proud to say I’ve finally taken the pledge, better late than never, and I encourage you to do the same.
Be prepared. Know your rights. Take the pledge.
Together we are strong,
-Iris
© Copyright 2012, The Bearded Iris. Be nice.