Queen of Spain Blog

Princess Peanut ripped her wound open today. So we trudged to the pediatrician where everything was closed again…it took her 1 hour to get this new cast off…which Mom reapplied with Princess tattoos…

…and on the way home we got in two (minor) fender benders in 5 minutes.

I’ll be locked in my down-covered house with the children in bubble wrap for the remainder of the week.

If my computer let’s me, I’ll be over at blogher eventually.

Henceforth my children will be encased in bubble wrap.

The Queen’s Palace shall be covered in down.

Anyone entering will relinquish all scissors, knives, keys, nail files, q-tips, makeup brushes, chapstick, and pointy hats. It will be much like LAX, except more strict. And with better food after you pass through security.

During my umpteenth trimming of my evergrowing vines, Princess Peanut Punk as Fuck, Heiress to the House of Noodle, grabbed the gardening shears (which had slid from my “secure” and “safe” location of the minivan hood to the ground) and nearly cut her cute, little, delicate, wedding ring finger to the bone. Just shy of bone, really.

An ER trip, a firefighter issued Teddy Bear, and enough Mommy Guilt to fill my pool- later, we’ve got one delicate little finger glued together, one traumatized 3-year-old, a relieved Daddy (who braved rush hour to get to the hospital, thinking the whole time his daughter would go through life minus one finger), a criticizing Uncle, a shell-shocked mother, and a 1-year-old who seems to be no worse for the wear.

So forgive me if all of your Blogher entries have not been read. The top three entries will be posted, starting tomorrow. The winner’s post will be published on Friday.

Kicking things off tomorrow in the #3 spot (would that be the 2nd runner up? like if the winner AND 1st runner up dies, she wins???) is Sarah and the Goon Squad. She could have won, but really couldn’t have won.

I’m off to kiss my daughter more.

**win free blogher tuition. You only have a few more hours left!

I’m walking. Nevermind the construction on my paseo path (that’s sidewalk for you nonValencia folk).

Easter candy for a week not helping my hippo ass-Today starts anew with the diet. But I have one, very serious question…

How many Weight Watcher points in ejaculation?

****QofS note: you have until Monday, April 17th at 11:59pm Pacific to submit your entry for free Blogher tuition. Some hints: you are guest posting on my blog. So it should fit in with the tone of this blog. It should be original to the Queen of Spain site-not something you’ve posted already. It needs to be unique and QofS-centric. You can enter as many posts as you like. Offer is good for tuition only. Tuition can not be refunded for cash and cash will not be awarded. If you can not attend blogher, your registration will be forfitted and you will not recieve any compensation. Stop making me be all PriceWaterhouseCooper-y and just email me your entry. Friends, family, pets, children, and their mothers are all eligible. It’s my contest. queenofspainblog@yahoo.com

Happy freaking Easter. We spent it at the Aquarium. What??? Like you thought we’d be a church???

Birds like to shit on my head.

Rumor has it this is good luck…but I think that was made up by the same people who claim rain on your wedding day is good luck. I know, let’s take something that SUCKS and pretend it’s good luck. Then it won’t seem so bad.

I got pooped on (oh, dear God the search hits I’m inviting here) at the Santa Barbara Zoo a few weeks ago.

I got pooped on at the Aquarium of the Pacific this weekend. The Lorakeet exhibit seemed like a great idea at the time. You can sort of see the crunch on my head.

Shortly after the pooping incident, I asked the Kaiser “Hey…do I have poop on me? I think I got pooped on?”

His response? “Uh…no…no poop.”

He later explained he *thought* I would freak out and it would ruin our day if I knew I had bird shit on my head and back. Whatever. Like I freak out. Ever. I’m so calm and cool and collected. He’s just a liar.

We’re going to ride on Thomas (jeez, that sounded dirty) in a few weeks. I’m taking bets on making it 3 for 3 on the bird shit thing. I’m offering 3-1 odds. Any takers?

Anyway. The Easter Bunny came. The Easter Bunny was only going to show up with some very small treats, and then Mrs. Easter Bunny felt guilty around 1130pm and hit the store where she found all Easter items already half off. Dear God I love me some Peeps. Left open for a few days so they get all hard. Looks like my daughter has inherited my Peep-lovin’ gene.

I’d like to clearly state that I have been trying very hard as of late to not go overboard. It’s really hard. The kids get so damn excited and happy. And when you watch them get excited and happy it just makes you want to make them even more excited and happy.

My brother and I got things like waterbeds for Easter. Along with baskets filled with solid chocolate bunnies and plastic eggs with hockey tickets and $50 bills inside. My parents were never more than middle class…but they literally gave us everything they had. The Kaiser, meanwhile…got some eggs and whatever bunny was generic and on sale. So you can imagine the fun he and I have when it comes to buying things for our children.

Happy Bunny Day. Try not to get pooped on.

I’m really, really, really excited. And I can’t help but share my excitement.

I’m sending YOU to Blogher.

The Queen is the Queen, afterall. And she can make things happen.

Get yourself a hotel room and airfare. And I’ll pay one reader’s tuition. But we need to act fast, because Day One only has 100 spots left and registration is going quick.

So take the weekend to write a guest post for the Queen of Spain. You read the site. You know what kind of snark flies around here. Write about anything you want. Your life. Your kids. Your vagina. Whatever. Get it to me no later than Monday, April 17th, 2006. 11:59pm Pacific is the cutoff. It’s just like this year’s tax deadline…but so much better.

I will pick a winner for whatever reason, for whatever mood I’m in. Everyone and anyone can enter.

Email me your entry at queenofspainblog@yahoo.com.

I will post the winner’s guest column along with a bio. And we’ll meet in San Jose, CA in July! And then you can proudly put this button on your blog:

Yesterday I was forgetting to sunscreen the kids and baking my prodigies as we ran through our favorite park.

Today…the wettest Spring in Southern California has once again emerged. Just when you thought it was safe to break out the sidewalk chalk, the heavens opened and I am again at a loss with what to do with these children.

I’m tapped out. I’m not the creative/crafty Mom type anyway. So give me my usual handful of bad weather days around here and I will run the gamete of “movie marathon,” “color/finger paint/stamp fun,” “clean, cook, and do laundry with Mommy,” or the really popular “here, have this toy while Mommy blogs” game.

The good news is our garden and plants are loving this mild weather. Normally it’s nothing but scorching heat and wind. I’m having to trim my vines weekly they are growing so fast with all this rain.

We’ve been to the mall. We’ve hit the stores, grocery and otherwise. And the Count has taken to impaling an apple with a garlic press for entertainment. That’s where we are at people. Fruit is being mutilated.

Oh, the humanity.

I’m open to rainy weather suggestions…but if anyone says “Chuck E… ” or suggests a craft-I’m banishing you from my blogroll.

There is excess skin around my tummy (yes, I said “tummy” and I also say “potty”, bite me) from having gained and lost 40lbs with each child. There is still some fat to be lost in that area…but a lot of it is just empty skin. Is there anyway to tone that or can it only be sliced off by Dr. 90210???

Count Waffles keeps asking me to fence. I have no idea where he picked up “fence.” But should I find it odd he doesn’t just want to play swords (and no, he has no swords so shut it…he was using a straw) or pirates or something. What 3-year-old says “Mommy, let’s FENCE!?”

Does everyone just wash the underwear the kid has an accident in (the #2 variety) or do you throw them out?

I’m at BlogHer today. And working up some stuff for other freelance projects. So forgive my lame post.

It’s not easy to look at this page, I’m sure. There is the lavender hue. The big fucking tiara in the corner. And usually some sappy photos of children on the latest post.

The first paragraph almost always says “fucking,” or “vagina,” or “suck it.” And you really can’t escape sex talk or diaper talk or the fine art of shaving your whoo-ha.

Which is why I am your dirty little secret. The place you click when, apparently, you’ve had your fill of those other blogs. Or, as I was told..those “real blogs.”

If Dooce and Finslippy are your morning coffee and newspaper, the Queen of Spain is your ice cream and Star.

I think I’m going to take that title and run with it. I don’t mind being your “Poor Mom’s Fussy.” In fact, I think I’m going to revel a bit in being called the “tabloid” of Momblogs.

…because we all know that you might skim your newspaper, but you MUST read every little detail about the Queen giving oral sex to the Kaiser and being interrupted by screams from the baby monitor.