Madame Cindy Crawford???

I actually had to think before I sat down to write this post. I didn’t want to come down hard on another mom. I mean, we’ve all fucked up at this job. We’ve all done some pretty stupid things. We’ve all had some less than spectacular parenting moments.

And then I though about it some more, and realized this needs to be talked about and it needs to be talked about in a blunt manner. It’s not in my nature to beat around the bush. It’s not in my nature to play pattycake when speaking my mind, and I shouldn’t start now simply because I really, really want to give a celebrity Mom the benefit of the doubt.

Cindy Crawford and her husband Rande Gerber have allowed their 5-year-old daughter to pose for some photos. Allegedly she’s modeling swimsuits, though the suits could be easily called “nonexistent” or “age inappropriate.”

God, I know I sound like one hell of a Tipper Gore here, and I really, really don’t want too. But THIS PHOTO MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE.

Why? Because I can guarantee pedophiles are looking and enjoying.

Because it’s not a family photo, meant for a family photo album, of an innocent moment.

Because it’s posed, premeditated, and meant for mass consumption.

Because a 5-year-old is not only topless, but tattooed in order to seem fashionable and provocative.

Because other moms will think it’s ok to dress their girls like women.

Because other parents will think it’s ok to sexualize their children.

I’m not a prude. I am liberal. I’m ok with naked. I’m ok with art. I’m ok with being free and expressing yourself.

But THIS PHOTO MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE. I’m not seeing naked. I’m not seeing art. I’m not seeing innocence.

I’m seeing a little girl whored out.

And I want an explanation.

Hat tip to Red Stapler and Celebrity Baby Blog and Outside the Beltway Gone Hollywood.

DENIED ELMO

***I also blogged this at the Huffington Post***

The Kaiser says I shouldn’t be a slave to false consumerism. Or a sucker.

But I have a big, fat “L” on my forehead today.

Despite my fancy, brilliant plan to pre-order TMX Elmo, I got this:

Hello from Amazon.com.

We are sorry to report that we will not be able to obtain the following
item from your order:
“TMX Elmo”

Though we had expected to be able to send this item to you, we’ve
since found that it is not available from any of our sources at this
time. We realize this is disappointing news to hear, and we apologize
for the inconvenience we have caused you
.
Dear Amazon,

You suck. I hate you. Thanks for nothing, bastards. What the hell does pre-order mean, anyway? Nothing, apparently.

Fuck you,

QofS

I have no idea why I am so mad about a toy my daughter doesn’t even know exists. I’m just mad I got sucked into the whole thing, I think.

But I’m sure I’d be happy had I gotten one. I suck. I suck. I suck. Say it with me Mommybloggers:

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

“I will not buy a TMX Elmo.”

Keep repeating until you believe it.

Sexual Healing

*Mom, Aunt MaryAnn, any other family members…GO AWAY. Really. I mean it. Unless you really want to know about my sex life. Mom. This is your last warning, your baby girl is going to discuss her whoo-ha. Leave. Leave now.****************

It had to be done, dear readers. My mother and family have been “reading the articles” so “you get more hits…is that right? hits?”

It’s the ads there on the left. They bring out the whore in me. So much so that my Mom braves nearly reading about my amazing blow job abilities.

Now to the matter at hand, it’s been a rough few weeks in these parts. Health wise. Green snot monsters. Diseases of the bowels. Fevers. Even some rashes.

Yet sex with the Kaiser has been UNREAL lately. Despite the ass whuppin I gave him in fantasy football. And his sticky snot and my bacteria infested intestines.

I don’t know who out there seems to think sex after marriage is nonexistent or minimal. I know that is the joke, but it’s not true. We just keep getting better by the anniversary around here. I’m not kidding. And it’s not easy to come up with new moves after 10 years.

I’ll be damn if we haven’t gotten crazy lately. Green snot and all.

Maybe that’s why I have a hard time with sitcoms and their “wife hates sex with the husband” story lines. Maybe that was true of our mother’s generation. But I think even that is outdated. Newsflash: women actually enjoy sex. With their husbands. No, really.

It’s an old joke. And it’s time it’s retired. Because I know we’re not the only ones fucking like rabbits. Watching porn. Sticking things in places that don’t normally see sticks. Getting it on in the office, the bed, the living room.

Or maybe I’m just feeling defensive about the state of marriage. Maybe I just feel everyone should know it can be amazing. Long lasting. Exciting. Worthwhile. Sensual. Sexy. Hot. Truthful.

Satisfying. Powerful.

And did I mention the hot monkey sex?

I want to play bridge and drink bloody marys*

I want to watch Oprah.

I do not want to work.

I want to be head of the PTA.

I want to organize fundraisers.

I want my husband to make the money while I tidy up the house.

I want to keep my engagement ring.

I want to get a new tattoo.

I want to listen to Mary J. Blige AND Laurie Berkner.

I want you to stop assuming I’m a bad feminist or simply a suburban soccer mom, even if I am.

I want to stop defending my choices to other women.

I want to play bridge and drink bloody marys.

*my new favorite phrase, coined by Sarah. We’re going to have to learn bridge…

First Day of School

When my son would refuse to leave my arms during Gymboree, well intentioned family members would joke about him being a “Mamma’s Boy” and spoiled by all that holding, and nursing.

He won’t be independent, they’d say.

He’ll be a wimp, they’d say.

He sleeps with you. He’s always nursing. He is never out of your arms. That can’t be good, they’d say. Because, you know, if you hold and spoil and love a baby too much, they won’t understand the cold and unloving world around them, I guess. Or something.

Today was the Count’s first day of school. Last year he began preschool with everyone terrified he’d cry the entire time. He didn’t. In fact, he was thrilled to go.

This year he actually got annoyed with me when I didn’t leave right away. Imagine this, coming from a 3-year-old, in his best Valley Girl voice with bonus eye roll:

“Gooooood bye, Mom” with a very lazy hand wave thrown in.

When I picked him up and peppered him with questions about his day, an exhausted little boy put his hands up like an old, Jewish man, shook his head back and forth and said,

Ok Mom, the pink girl bit the other guy and there was a spider and we all ran away-fast. That was all that happened. Ok?”

Not only does he have ZERO separation issues, but he’s already annoyed by my motherly prying. Greeeeeeeeeeat.

First day of school

…and for her next trick, Barbie wipes her ass

Somewhere, sandwiched between a Floam and Moon Sand commercial this morning, I half glanced at the television.

Barbie.

Huh, she seems dressed somewhat normal. Still super big tits, but whatever. Clicking on yahoo, No, no cookies until after lunch. Stop kicking your brother. Click. Click.

And a dog.

Cute doggie. He has a bowl of food and everything. I should really take Peanut’s socks off, it’s getting hot. Sure, Count, you can have more milk, I’m coming. Is Barbie holding a metal detector? Wait. she’s picking up litter, nooooooo!

OH MY GOD, did that dog just SHIT? Turds just shot out of Barbie’s dog’s ass. This is a joke, right? Do I have on the right channel, what are we watching???

Did Barbie just pick up the shit with a pooper scooper? She did. What the hell am I watching? Is this real, hang on honey, I’m coming to get you milk. I just need to see if this commercial is real.

It is.

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…because I just can’t shut up about it

After my short post the other day on the TINY WHORES -the blogosphere went crazy with the padded bra for 6-year-olds story.

I blogged it over at the Huffington Post. Please go read it and leave your two cents. You know those readers over there…

In the meantime, I demand photos of all your daughters in their Halloween costumes. And so help me if any of them are slutty I’m flying to where you live to kick the crap out of you.

My kids will be in these:

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Of course, it will be my kids and not these child models. So they will be much cuter.

Love Thursday-The Men

Love Thursday

I love that he naps on the couch and his daughter gives him Elmo, because she loves her Daddy that much.

What husbands do...

I love that despite his inability to stand up, he’s trying to skate. He only knows it makes Mommy “so very happy.” He falls and cries, but tries again…because, “Mommy, you like when I skate.”

Check me out, Mom