Dear Seventeen Magazine, Thank You for the Heart Attack.

My tween love, love, LOVES Seventeen Magazine.  I mean Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers, Taylor Lautner, L-U-V loves Seventeen Magazine. Her love affair began a few months ago in the waiting room of her doctor's office.  She spotted the magazine with Taylor Swift on the cover and practically pounced on the table to snatch it up.  She poured over the pages, taking in all the glossy ads and reading me random facts about Taylor.

Did you know that Taylor Swift likes being single?  I mean, she likes it.  Why would she like it?  Did you know that she used to date a Jonas Brother.  A Jonas Brother!  Did you know her new boyfriend's name is also Taylor?  He's in the Twilight movie.  Can I see Twilight?  

 On..and on...and on with the Taylor Swift facts.  The other thing about tween girls is that the is no "off" switch.  They talk and talk like it's their jobs.  I suppose it kind of is.

At the next visit to the doctor's office she found the same old issue and picked it up again like it was brand new.  This time instead of telling me Taylor Swift's life story, she asked for a subscription.  I tried to explain that Miss Swift was not on EVERY issue of the magazine, though I'm not sure she believed me. 

I paged through the magazine quickly and didn't see anything too out of place for a tween girl...lip gloss, lists of what's "in" and "out", booooooys.  Le swoon.  So I ordered her a subscription for her birthday. 

Once a month it arrives in the mail.  Once a month she follows me through the house telling me all about the cover girl or whatever else she finds interesting. 

This past month, I came downstairs early one morning and found the magazine on the counter with a few pages dog-eared.  When I opened it up, I found a few page article on S-E-X.  Blaaaaarg.  I hadn't even had my Diet Coke yet.

The good news is that everything that was in the article was the right message (at least in my opinion).  It talked about how not everybody is doing it, how boys will be ok with not doing it, how to talk with your parents before doing it.  All the right info.  But a little over the head of my ten year old.

Later that morning I asked her if there were things she wanted to talk about in the magazine.  She told me that she didn't really understand those pages.  Soooo...we hunkered down on the couch and I did my best to explain them to her and infuse a little more of our family values into the message.  Her dad sat a few feet away, mostly looking like he'd rather be having a root canal, but I feel like I need to jump on the teachable moments when they come.

Sure, ten years old is probably a little young for some of the birds and bees business. But not all of it.  I don't want her to ever feel like she can't come talk with me about something (even if I'm screaming at the awkwardness on the inside). 

Talking about the magazine also gave us a good jumping off point for when I want to talk about things.  (Remember when we were talking about that article, well, blah, blah, blah also goes along with that).  It also opened the door for a conversation about "sexting" after a story on the Today Show.

How do you talk about sex with your daughters?  Does it get easier or less awkward?

Temper Tantrums and Cabin Fever

The Blizzard of 2010 has been over for less than five days and the Mid-Atlantic is under siege by snow yet again.  Our area has already gotten over 70 inches of snow this season--about half of that from this storm--and the norm here is only 18 inches.  We have more snow here than they do in Vancouver for the flippin Winter Olympics!

 

Yes, that's right.  My son is eating snow.  Don't laugh, it kept him entertained for a full five minutes.  That's like three hours with an eight month old.

Schools have been closed since last Friday.  That means I've been home with the kiddos since Friday afternoon.  Daddy has been home with us for most of that, but even he got to escape to work for a little while yesterday.  Since Friday, I've left the house twice.  Once on Friday morning to run some silly errands with Bink and last night to have dinner with the hubby and kids.

Otherwise known as dear God, I can't take anymore snow or being stuck in this stinkin house anymore, so let's go to Pizza Hut and Target.  Cause we're cool like that.

Since we've been imprisoned, the Bink has learned a few new tricks.  He can now pull himself up in his crib, on his exersaucer (which is not heavy enough to hold him and sometimes falls over...on him), and on the couch.

He has also learned to SCREAM LIKE HE IS ON FIRE!  I'm not sure where this little discovery has come from on his part, but he is LOUD.  Like it's the end of the world, someone must be dead, the sky is falling loud.  It's the kind of scream that adults would reserve for being chased by an axe murderer in a dark ally...or probably anywhere since there is a murderous axe-wielding person involved.

He expanded on that trick to scream DIRECTLY IN MY FACE.  Whenever he finds the opportunity.

Perhaps I displeased him by suggesting his fussiness may be caused my his morning-long lack of napping.  Perhaps because I removed the laptop power cord from his grubby little grasp as it was headed for his gummy little mouth.  Perhaps its because I wouldn't let him pull on my hair while he was nursing.  Yes, surely it must have been that. 

He's only eight months (and one week) old.  That seems young to me for this level of opinion, determination, and 'tude.  Am I wrong?  Are other babies this age as bossy as my little dude?

Snow-pocalypse

In case you haven't seen a news report in the last week, the Baltimore-Washington area got ROCKED by a blizzard to end all blizzards this weekend. It's being lovingly refered to as snow-pocalypse and snow-maggeden around these parts.

Since the hype surrounding this storm started super early, we had time to prepare. Well, by prepare I mean we had time to cram into the grocery store with every other fool in the state and stock up on essentials...bread, milk (well Soy Silk Almond Milk in my case), toilet paper...and junk food.

Yes, you read that right.  That says 31.5 inches of snow on our deck.

The problem with being snowed in is not the initial snowing-in part. I love a day that we CAN'T leave the house. We stayed in our PJ's. We watched bad tv. We snuggled on the couch.  

 We were even kind of productive and did massive loads of laundry, changed sheets, moved some furniture around to add a rug to the dining room. 

We bundled up the baby and took him outside to see the SECOND major snow storm of his young life. 

 He looks pleased about it, doesn't he?

 It made a little nostalgic to think that the last time we got this much snow (in December, mind you), Emerson couldn't crawl yet.  Now...now there is no stopping him.

 

  

I made black bean soup in the crock pot and baked chocolate chip cookies.  I stayed up late to finish a smutty book I started the day before.

The problem with being snowed in starts on the second day. The day when your husband and children look at you like, well, now what? The day when you wake up with a little cabin fever already, want to go out and do something, anything, out of the house. And then you remember that is still looks like THIS outside...