Queen of Spain Blog

To Whom It May Concern,

You are in luck today! I don’t want to censor you, v-chip you, ask you to tone it down, or tell you to stop making commercials.

But you should know, I’m not watching. So it really doesn’t matter. You might as well keep making them however you want.

You see, when it’s 2pm on a Sunday and the family is gathered around watching a game…we skip your commercials. My kids, they don’t need to see a woman’s face melt, a guy with a gun shooting aliens, Tom Cruise running from spaceships while crap blows up everywhere, or your latest war game where people’s heads explode.

We’re not only NOT watching your ads, we’re not buying your products.

So you can go ahead and keep showing your violent, frightening, foul-mouthed ads when children are still awake. I just thought you might want to know the consumer isn’t watching.

Maybe you’ve forgotten we don’t NEED to watch? Even without TIVO, I have the power to turn off the television. That’s right, some responsible parents actually TURN OFF THE TV when the programming may be objectionable. I know you are probably used to parents who are lazy, and will let your brainwashing ads sink into those little brains. I mean, all you have to worry about is the FCC right?

Wrong.

In fact, this Mom isn’t even a fan of the FCC. Or Tipper Gore. Or letting the government decide what is appropriate for her family.

Well, anyway. Good luck selling that video game, movie, war toy…whatever it is you are hocking. Maybe those same morons that blindly follow the herd here in good old America will shell out some cash for your crap.

Sincerely,
Queen of Spain

p.s. I’m not buying Floam. Ever.

There are always challenges in breastfeeding. It’s just a given. While the sucking of the boob and the giving of the boob to suck may be natural, it’s still a “put Tab B in Slot A” situation and some bumps are bound to occur.

In following her tradition of being absolutely nothing like her brother, my darling daughter likes to bite.

It took one loud yelp with the Count and he never showed his teeth again. HRH Princess Peanut thinks it’s a game. A funny, funny game where Mommy yells loud and she laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

At first I was very gentle with her. I thought, like an idiot, that she would realize I was in pain and stop. Lately, on having to apply yet another coat of lanolin and/or neosporin to my nipple, I’ve gotten stern.

I need to clarify that when she bites, she is neither malicious nor devious. She really, really thinks we’re playing.

I put on my Big Girl voice and tell my precious daughter “No! No biting Mommy!”
She giggles and goes for another nip.
“I SAID NO!”
Her face turns from the sweetest smile to the utmost of betrayals. Her bottom lip quivers, her eyes well up with tears, and she is wounded to the depths of her soul. Bluebirds fly to her shoulder to sing and console her. Butterflies shoot out of her ass. A halo appears over her head and a black pointy hat appears on mine, while a hairy mole grows on my chin.

The girl just isn’t mean by nature. And despite the situation, she has no intention of hurting her beloved mother and can’t possibly understand why I am using the tone of voice usually directed at her brother.

I feel an inch high when I yell at her. But I have bite marks and bruises on my nipples. Mostly on my right nipple. For some reason, she likes to try out her EIGHT teeth on that one nipple much more than the other.

Some of you may think this little one is pulling one over on me. But I swear to you, she’s really doing the “I’m just a baby, I don’t get it” thing. But this has been happening for the past few days, and I KNOW she’s very smart-So it’s got to click soon, right?

Or do I just want to believe she’s innocent and sweet? So much so, that I’m letting her get away with it??

Maybe this is just one of those turning points. She’s going from baby to toddler now, and I find myself beginning the real start of discipline with her. Lately she’s been in trouble for standing on her ride-on Princess car. For pulling the cats’ tails. For pulling her brother’s hair. For climbing onto the couch and then climbing on it’s arm and trying to stand. For stealing her brother’s juice box straw and sticking it in the CD player. For eating rocks. For dismembering a snail. For trying to take knives from the dishwasher.

Hang on…I’m seeing a pattern here.

You’d think on my second child I’d catch on to the “testing us” thing earlier.

Hooray for blogging. But seriously, I’m happy to take suggestions on stopping the biting. It’s not enough of an issue for me to wean, but my boobs have already been through enough here.

I’m contributing at a new Sports Blog called “Draft Day Suit.” If you get that joke, then click on over.

Just to review…that’s Blogher, DotMoms, Draft Day Suit. Oh yeah..and Queen of Spain.

Eventually I will take over the world. It’s not like I didn’t try and tell you people I’m the Queen.

See that badge on the left there? The one that proudly proclaims…”I’M GOING TO BLOGHER!” See it??? It’s wrong. It should say “We’re Going to Blogher!”

My husband and children are coming to BlogHer.

The Kaiser has confided in me that even IF Princess Peanut has weaned herself by July…he’s not real sure he can handle the kids for an entire weekend. At least the man is honest.

Goodbye two nights of uninterrupted sleep. Goodbye Sarah, my supposed-to-be roomie. No giggling and girl talk or pillowfights in our lingerie. Goodbye drunken stupor, followed by stumble back to hotel room….wait…that will probably still happen.

Truth be told, the Kaiser has never had the kids for more than maybe 3 hours at a time. He doesn’t put them to bed. He doesn’t really know the ins and outs of their daily routine.

Sure, if push came to shove he could take them all weekend and everyone would survive. But is that how he wants to spend his weekend? Not to mention me being a 5 hour drive away. How many Paxil’s would I have to take if something did happen and I had to rush home (a point the Kaiser made, which freaked me out to no end)?

This is not his fault. And before you start yelling at me about how freaky protective I am of these kids…it’s not my fault either.

It’s what we decided on long ago when it was agreed that he would work and I would stay home. The man leaves here at 845am and gets home around 8pm. That’s the price we pay to live la vida loca here in suburbia.

The Kaiser, in his very sweet way, broke the news to me not too long ago, and I’m still thinking about it.

Are we odd? Should I leave my children more often? Is everyone too dependent on Mom?

I’ve never left my children overnight. Actually, I only left the Count in order to birth the Princess. Sometimes I think that is really weird. Sometimes I think it’s just our circumstances. We don’t have family nearby to take the kids.

I’ve also been breastfeeding for an eternity. Which makes this entire conversation moot (I really think everyone should use the word moot much more often) since I don’t see an end to the Princess’s thirst for breastmilk anytime soon.

So look for me at Blogher. I’ll be the one darting in and out of my hotel room to nurse between sessions. I’ll also be keeping the Kaiser locked in the room with the kids, because if we let him out, all you women will want him to come party with you instead of me. Trust me on this. He’ll be picking on us and rolling his eyes and making really inappropriate jokes.

I have no doubt you will find the Kaiser and Sarah at the bar Friday and/or Saturday night. Promise me you will go ask them “Where’s Erin????” and they will drunkenly laugh and say “Putting the kids to bed!!! Hahahaha!!!”

I’ll eventually kick the Kaiser back up the room, but I’m wondering if I’ll have a baby monitor in my purse…