Amah's Girl

I just bought this Halloween costume for my one-year-old daughter. I swore I wouldn't go all girl crazy with her. I was going to try and keep it a princess and Barbie-free zone in our home.

It still is.

But last year she was an Ewok and this year I'm strapping lady bug wings to her back. So there you go. And oh hell yes I bought the lady bug wand. So sue me. She may also happen to own a pair of bright red patent leather Mary Janes imported from Italy.

C'mon. The shoes totally make the outfit.

I'm not making her conform to gender stereotypes. I'm making her conform to fabulous. Okay?

She has also been known to rock the pigtails so hard it will make your ovaries twirl:

They are not pigtails. They are an explosion of hair happiness.

She can say "car," "baby" and "Elmo." When she is hungry she runs towards her highchair shouting, "Eat! Eat!" while she repeatedly puts her hand to her mouth. I think she is concerned that her father and I are a little slow. She also runs for the stairs and yells, "Baf? Baf?" every night before bed. I think she doubts our ability to feed and bathe her without prompting.

She said "Dada" long before she ever said "Mama." And she never really said a proper Mama. I'm not a Mommy. Long ago I decided that I would be a Mama and not a Mommy. As one friend put it, "Mama is more rock and roll."

But our dancing baby girl doesn't call me Mama or Mommy. She calls me Ah-Ma. Or Amah. She sounds like she is speaking English as a second language, which I suppose she is. It is sweet to hear her little voice in the morning, calling from the other room:

"Amah?"

"Amah?"

As though calling for her staff. She then pantomimes, "Eat" for me, and runs towards the TV yelling "Ehmo?" We pretty much follow her around and obey her commands. She knows her way to the park and she frequently walks her father there. Once there, she refuses to leave. I often get text messages from him, saying:

"Baby refuses to leave the park."

And so they stay for two hours.

This little baby girl runs our house. She has her father, her brother and me all wrapped around her finger. Occasionally she deigns us with a kiss goodnight, which she delivers with lips puckered like a fish.

Forty Lawyers Walk Into My House

It sounds like the start of a joke, right?

For some reason my husband and I thought it would be a good idea to have 40 people over for dinner tomorrow night. Hahahahaha. Aren't we funny? Did I mention that they're lawyers? Remind me not to argue with anyone.

Slowly, we began to wonder what 40 people in a 1,450-sq.-ft. house might look like. And really, the downstairs is less than that, right? I can't do math, but I think you get the idea:

Lawyers in a can!

So I rented tables and chairs. I called in for help. I have two assistants coming over to help me serve at the party. I took a day off work to start cooking. In fact, I've been cooking since 9 o'clock this morning. I'm just waiting for a chocolate bundt cake to cool so then I can frost it.

So far today I have made approximately 20 lbs. of spinach lasagna:

I was really motivated and artistic at the start of this.

5 lbs. of Swedish meatballs:

It's hard to make ground meat attractive.

And the aforementioned bundt cake:

I glazed it right in the middle of this blog. Soooo talented!

I've still got brownies and grilled chicken to go before I take the rest of the day off. I'm tired and my back hurts. I think this is why people cater events. I think I must have wanted to test my limits. That's the only reason why I can fathom I decided to do this. Oh yeah, I'm a big idea person. Of course, I have to live with the consequences of those big ideas.

*Sigh*

We've hosted 20 people in our home before and I've cooked for 20. I wanted to see if we could double that. I mean doubling that doesn't sound that hard, right? Sort of like a marathon of entertaining. I don't know if I'll repeat it but I was certainly interested to try.

Have I mentioned I've had an entire pot of coffee and a Diet Coke today?

I am wiiiiii-rrrrred.

I am a baking machine!

I'm having thoughts like:

"I should go into catering! Cooking all day is much better than writing all day. I'm all by myself and no one is criticizing the job I'm doing. No one in the editing department is re-mixing my cake. I don't have any account people second-guessing how much pepper I put in the Swedish meatballs. The client isn't going to send back the vegetarian lasagna they specifically asked for and tell me they wanted it with meat instead. This is totally awesome!"

But I'm sure as soon as this caffeine high wears off I'll start appreciating my desk job.

Although right now cooking seems AMAZING and I am a SUPER-CATERER TO THE LEGAL STARS OF METRO DETROIT.

Okay, even writing that sentence took away from the high that is quickly evaporating. I have to admit, I stopped to glaze the bundt cake after writing that sentence with all caps and now I'm tired. The thought of making brownies or grilling chicken exhausts me.

Maybe I need to start doing cocaine?

Uh oh. Now I'm re-thinking the whole career in catering. The mere thought of it has turned my mind to drugs.

Shoestring Enlightenment

Read more about it at Buddha Mama Sans Drama.

Rear View Mirror Conversation

I love driving my seven-year-old son to school. We always have conversations in the rear view mirror.

This was this morning's conversation:

"If I want to have a girl, I have to be nice to her," he said.

I laughed.

"Where did you hear that?" I said.

"You."

I laughed some more. I felt like a good mom.

"I wish I could find a genie and get five wishes," he said.

"Why five?"

"Because I don't want three."

I looked at him in the mirror and he was holding up five fingers, counting to himself. It dawned on me then that he had thought up five things he wanted, not three.

"What are your five wishes?" I asked.

"One, when I die I want to be reborn as a baby and have all of my family. Two, I want a light saber. Three, I want all of the toys in the world. Four, I want a thousand dollars. Five, I don't want my frogs to die."

I looked at him in the mirror and wanted those five things for him too.

Friday Nonsense

Since I have writer's block about my own life, but I'm apparently overflowing with creativity when it comes to popular culture and sex, I'm just going to claw my way through a blog and let it just be terrible, without a clear beginning, middle and end, and possibly a run-on sentence or two.

Things That Happened This Week:

1. Someone posted a passive aggressive note about dirty dishes at work and I have resisted the urge to blog about it because I try not to blog about work. Even though I just did.

2. My son saw his two frogs in their tank and cried out: "Oh look, they're playing piggyback rides!" I could not stop snickering and he kept asking me why. "Piggyback rides are just funny, " I said.

3. My son learned how to ride a bike this week. I have a massive bruise on my leg from my one failed attempt at teaching him. Props to his step-daddy for his dedication and patience in this task. Thanks to him, my son will not enter the second grade without knowing how to ride a bike.

4. I played piggyback ride with my husband a few times this week.

5. I know, that last one was totally inappropriate but it made me laugh yet again.

6. Piggyback rides are comedy gold.

7. I found out that my dentist is going to use me in a paper about how you can create a dramatic difference in your smile without the use of veneers. So, I will basically be a dental superstar. I wonder if they'll want me to do signings and public appearances?

8. My daughter discovered tomato sauce.

9. My husband asked if we could have a few work associates over to our house for a party and now the total "Yes"s are up to 30 people and the "Maybe"s are outstanding at 10. That's 40 potential people, people. We have a small house. I'm considering installing a disco ball and a karaoke machine because what else can you do with that many people in that small of a space? It had better not rain.

10. Do I talk about how awesome my husband is? Is it annoying if I do? I've known the man for six years and I feel like I get to know and understand him more and more with each passing year. I also feel like knowing him and growing with him as a person has enabled me to be a much better person than I ever thought I could be. He inspires me. He makes me laugh. He's truly my best friend. He's good in bed. And he regularly sends me news stories like this:

Important news for Mandy to read.

That's my week, in short. Tell me something that happened to you this week. Or something that didn't happen, but should have. Did you get any piggyback rides?

Sex and Psychoanalysts

Hello, Doctor.

Sex, Freud, Jung. It's almost too much for my Id to handle.

Read all about it at Sprocket Ink:

Keira Knightley Goes Full Freudian in New Movie.