Queen of Spain Blog

Carnys!

August 8, 2007 by Queen of Spain 19 Comments

Like a drunken whore, not thinking before she acts…I took the kids to a local county fair this week. By. My. Self.
Yup…4H Club pigs, goats, cows (oops, I mean heifers) and kids in strange bow ties. The Ferris wheel my youngest was too small to ride and my oldest didn’t want to ride. Cotton Candy, live music (TONY ORLANDO!) and even hay. HAY people.

We had to ride a yellow school bus, much to the kids’ delight, to the fair. We couldn’t even park and walk on in. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, other than I’m so shell shocked I need to just type. Type. Type. Type.

I should mention I live in the burbs of Los Angeles. Which means as much as we TRY to have a regular old county fair…we still have Pink’s hot dogs and the Bangles. That’s our fair.

Anyway, I woke up that day with um…as the men in my life call it an “I Love Lucy” moment and decided the kids and I needed to DO something that day. We NEEDED to get out of the house. I was thinking beach. Maybe the movies. The park. But I gave in to the udder obsessed 4-year old (its true, he loves cows with tits) and decided going to the county fair seemed easy and totally do-able.

Holy fuck was I wrong. From the yellow shuttle bus in to the fair “complex” to the hour ride home in traffic…I WAS WRONG.

A 2-year old who REFUSED to hold my hand and Count Waffles who ONLY WANTED COW TITS, I’m a tired, tired, tired mother. Send wine. I’ll be cowering in the corner and checking my email between bong hits.

Filed Under: Royal Family Outing

Striking Fear in the Hearts of Men

August 6, 2007 by Queen of Spain 16 Comments

Up until about 4-6 weeks ago, my daughter was nothing like me. She was sweet and quiet and shy. She picked flowers and sang to blue birds perched on her finger. Yes, the bluebirds harmonized with her.

I was confident she was going to be one of those sweet, nice, sunshine smile kind of girls. The kind and gentle voice of reason to her slutty, stupid girlfriends. Studious. Polite to a fault. Teachers pet. You’re getting the picture here, right?

Well, apparently at 2 1/2 years old she’s just NOW decided that halo-polishing baby I knew was just an act. We’ve entered classic terrible two territory with the “NO!” and “I DO IT MYSELF” but with a Princess Peanut Punk as Fuck TWIST-she’s got a hair flip, eyelash bat, head cock thing going on that scares the bejeeezus out of me.

She is going to CRUSH men. CRUSH them.

In the meantime, she’s crushing me. I tell her “no” and I get an “I want DADDY!” in response. I say “stop that right now” and I get a “NO Mommy” then she grabs my cheeks and kisses me on the lips. As if to say, “I’m not going to do what you say, but I’m cute and loving and I will at least give you a nice kiss before defying you, silly woman.”
I’m fucked.

Time outs are not working. Taking away toys seems to only fuel her evil. I took away a beloved baby and she said (and I’m not kidding here) “pffffffffffffft.” She pfffffft’d my punishment and walked away.

I keep reminding myself we went through this with Count Waffles, and he’s now a model citizen. I keep telling myself its just another phase and it will pass.

In all honesty, I’m not sure. The hair flip, head cock, eyelash bat thing-is beyond “phase.” Its possible I inadvertently taught her how to work a man. She’s using it against me. She’s using it against her father. She’s using it against the world.

I blame myself of course. I obviously showed her my wily ways. I didn’t realize she was soaking it in, but…there it is. OR, maybe its just in the DNA? She’s got some female Queen-gene that helps her pout her lips and lean her head on her father’s shoulder at JUST the right, somewhat evil, moment.

What I need to remember here is that I’M the Queen. I’m the ALPHA female in THIS house. I will not fear her. I will not give in to her. I’m not going to fold at a mere eyelash bat, sulk episode in my kitchen.

She can’t make me.

Filed Under: Princess Peanut, Royal Pain, Royal Vagina, Royally Screwed

Hot Pink Mess

August 2, 2007 by Queen of Spain 28 Comments

There is a Barbi pink bottle of nail polish sitting on my counter mocking me.

Fucking pink nail polish.
I bought it on a whim while picking up some prescriptions at the drug store. I had this fleeting thought that it would be fun to paint my daughter’s nails. Or for her to paint mine.

Then I got home and my brain kicked in, and putting hot pink nail polish on a 2-year old seemed completely out of the question for about a dozen reasons. First and foremost, last I checked she was 2, not 12. I rail against ear piercing for babies and push-up bras for 2nd graders, and in a moment of insanity I somehow thought nail polish was OK for a toddler.

So now it sits there, on my counter, laughing at me. Another big, fat, black mark on my feminist card. We’ve been sexualizing these little girls for so long that it nearly got me. ME.

I’m so ashamed.

Maybe because it wasn’t as blatant as a t-shirt with a promiscuous saying. It wasn’t a thong for a 3-year old.

It was just some pink nail polish. Is nail polish the gateway make up to fire engine red lipstick? Is pink nail polish a statement on a 2-year old? If anything, I think it says “my mother is a fucking moron who put this on me to whore me up.”

Or am I just over doing it here? Is it just a bit of “play” on a 105 degree, stay in the a/c kind of day? Am I thinking too much? Is this just what little girls do? Or just what little girls do because their mothers think its cute and fun and girlie.
I don’t think so. I think if it were not an issue to use my brain over, that nail polish wouldn’t still be sitting on that counter. Mocking me.

I won’t let my son have a toy gun. I know he’ll figure it out with legos or a stick soon enough. So why would I encourage the whole “grown up” look on my daughter? She’ll figure it out soon enough and be demanding it all on her own. Without my help.

So what do I do with this hot Barbi pink nail polish on my counter? I think I’m going to leave it there. As a reminder. This little girl isn’t going to grow up too fast. Be sexualized too fast. Too soon. No. Not even those little nails. I’ll let the bottle mock me. Maybe we’ll bust it out for her sweet 16. Until then…it stays on the counter.

Filed Under: Princess Peanut, Royal Vagina

Senator Clinton: Embrace your inner EMO

August 1, 2007 by Queen of Spain 8 Comments

The New York Times thinks Senator Hillary Clinton’s college letters to a friend are FRONT PAGE worthy. That is sooooooooo June 2007.

Way back in June, I was flipping through my old diaries and journals. I voluntarily chose an entry, stood in front of an audience in Los Angeles, and read aloud portions of my youth.

It hurt.
It was cringe inducing.
It was more than embarrassing, and that’s the point.

We laughed until our sides hurt at who we were and the things we wrote with such passion decades ago. It’s called LA Angst, and Senator Clinton, I invite you to join us.

The Sunday Times article quotes Clinton letters to friend John Peavoy and they would be LA Angst GOLD. Exactly the kind of thing we read up on stage while choking back howls of laughter and snorts.

“Can you be a misanthrope and still love or enjoy some individuals?” Ms. Rodham wrote in an April 1967 letter. “How about a compassionate misanthrope?”

If she’s got some forlorn, angst-ridden poetry to go with it, we would put her in the headlining spot. The more Emo, the better.

Why the Times finds this front page material is beyond me. Were they expecting to drop a bombshell by revealing she was a woman who wrote down her *gasp* feelings and *shock* thoughts? Ooooooh, that’s right, this is all part of that mainstream media conspiracy to put Hillary in office, to show her as more down to earth. (sarcasm)

Down to earth would be joining us on stage to read and spending time talking to us. Down to earth would be showing up and laughing with us. Down to earth would be the time and effort I watched Elizabeth Edwards take with a gathering of women in Chicago this past weekend.

After a keynote speech for the BlogHer ’07 conference, Elizabeth Edwards joined us at our cocktail party where she spent HOURS hugging, talking, and just hanging out. She was gracious, she was charming, and she was available. She took the time to talk to every. single. woman. Answer every. single. question, and she did it without a team of advisers looming over her shoulder. She spoke candidly to some and whispered in the ears of others. Elizabeth (as she insisted we call her) then offered to take more questions via the BlogHer site and offered up her personal email address to those of us who needed privacy to get the courage to speak to her.

The Clinton camp wouldn’t even comment on the Peavoy letters.

So we’ve got Barack Obama taking dinners with “Average” supporters and the wife of John Edwards spending hours in an informal atmosphere chatting with others.

The Clinton camp had no comment on the Peavoy letters.

With all due respect Senator Clinton, and with my dream of seeing a woman in the White House *this* close, you need to join us for the next LA Angst. Laugh with us.
Chat with us.
Be one of us.
I’ll even buy the first round.

crossposted at The Huffington Post

Filed Under: BlogHer, blogher07, Feeling YaYa

It’s TRUE, what they say…

July 29, 2007 by Queen of Spain 14 Comments

I am no where near due for my period, but hanging with 800 women will get you bleeding way off schedule.

I’m sitting at the airport in Chicago (menstrual) and trying to wrap my head around seeing all these lovely female bloggers, all in one place, all being smart and witty and funny and total dorks.

Elizabeth Edwards (wife of presidential candidate John-yeah, that one) took to the stage for her keynote speech with Lisa Stone and then graciously joined us at our cocktail party. The woman hung out with us bloghers all night. She met everyone and answered questions about anything and literally was one of us. Not sure if I’m voting for her husband…but wow, she impressed the hell out of me, and I’m not easy to impress.

Apparently we’re super cool, because as I was leaving (more like stumbling) out of the party I ran into LeahPeah who was going to an after party with Chloe Dao from Project Runway. Yeah, so Elizabeth Edwards and Chloe from Project Runway just kinda hung out with us bloghers alllll night. I’m not kidding.

I got to hold this new blogher and I got to HUG this one and I got to laugh like a big DORK with this one, oh, and did I mention eat a large pile of MEAT because of HER? We were meat drunk. This blogher gave me a crown (I KNOW) and this one passed me a condom lollipop and this one is just a nice as you think.

Hung over this morning I held the red stapler and hugged this one good bye and told this one we might bring the kids to DC soon. Did this one tell you yet about how her luggage was lost? Or this one her ID (no comment, I did it at blogher business in NYC) or how this one and this one went on a boat ride and watch some guy’s big ears flap in the wind???

Yeah, so I’m might have to go change my tampon before I get on this flight…but it was worth it.

Filed Under: blogher07

BlogHer ’07 Keynote Elizabeth Edwards LIVE in Second Life

July 28, 2007 by Queen of Spain Leave a Comment

Filed Under: blogher07

Windy City Pretty

July 23, 2007 by Queen of Spain 12 Comments

That’s the name of my toe-nail polish, swear to god…Windy City Pretty. Of course I did it on purpose.

Last year as I packed for BlogHer, I was nursing Princess Peanut in between folding skirts and shirts. I was fretting over how many hours a session would last, and how long it would take me to nurse my daughter after breakfast, before session #2, during the cocktail party…you get the idea.

I was worried how my mother and the Kaiser would handle two kids in a hotel room. I was still TOTALLY uncomfortable leaving my children for any length of time, even to join my friends for a once-a-year get together.

Tonight, I’m doing laundry, packing, and counting the hours before the Kaiser and I leave for LAX. I’m wondering how many drinks I can have on the plane without feeling like shit. I’m wondering if I can add a day to our get away just because. I’m wondering if I’m a terrible mother because not only do I want to get away from my kids, I am DYING to get away from my kids.

Let me be clear, I’m the mother who wouldn’t let you HOLD my child. I’m the mother who never spent a night away from her kids. They were GLUED to me. GLUED.
NYC for BlogHer business was my first trip away. I’m now determined to never come home. Ok, kidding, kidding…but I feel like a freshman at college who got away from her parents and suddenly fucked everyone and drank like a fish. I now want to leave my children ALL THE TIME. I went from one extreme to the other.

I’m not sure it’s healthy.

I can’t do much about it now…with BlogHer in Chicago beckoning me with its yahootinis and wonderful swag bags. With its familiar faces and hugs from bloggers I’ve only typed with.

…but when I get home…I’m thinking I need to sloooow down a bit. Reengage with my children, my home, my life. Stop trying to escape like a forlorn teenager and find some balance between hovermom and freedom lover.

In the meantime, me and my Windy City Pretty toes are off.

Filed Under: BlogHer, BlogHer.org, Stepford Crazies

SCOOP of the Century (or at least for this weekend)

July 23, 2007 by Queen of Spain 13 Comments

Well placed sources tell me the fabulous women behind TRUE MOM CONFESSIONS will be giving away a CONE during this weekend’s BlogHer conference in Chicago.

There is more, and HOLY (that’s a hint) HELL do I wish I could tell you, but you’ll have to come to Chicago to find out.

Some things as I pack for Chicago-

-my son has decided now would be a great time to have a string of allergic reactions that send us to the ER in Santa Monica. We don’t know what it is and yes, he swells and throat starts to close. So scary I can’t even blog about it yet, but rest assured we’re on top of it.

-BlogHer in Second Life still has space, register or face my wrath.

-I’m going early to the conference to make sure stuff is ready-I leave in about 32 hours. HOLY SHIT.

Filed Under: BlogHer, BlogHer.org, BlogMe