Sam's Room

I am a big believer in sensory stimulation. I'm also a big believer in popping color (I hate white walls- we just haven't gotten around to painting them yet). So when Sam was born I knew right away that pastels would never be allowed in his room. I picked decor that was bright and colorful.
But recently, I took it a little further. It started when he became restless on his changing table. I thought to hang stuff from the ceiling to distract him, then I copied that idea over his crib as well.

On his bookshelf I labeled transparent bins to organize his stuff. I have these and his books accessible to him because I try to reign in my need for clutter-free space and let him choose what he wants to take out (and usually scatter throughout the house) but I try to pick my battles with telling him "no" so if it's not dangerous he can go toward what compels him. It's usually the crayons :)

Perfect Imperfections

At what age do we become conditioned to what's beautiful and what's not? What determines it? When a baby hugs his mom he doesn't think twice about her round belly or stretchmarks. In some cultures, saggy breasts are beautiful because they indicate that a woman has bore a child, which is an honor. Perky breasts indicate youth and childhood which is not attractive to the men in these cultures. If you think about it, what is more womanly than the ability to grow a child in your womb? What's more incredible? Our culture should honor the marks that motherhood leaves behind. What if our culture thought stretchmarks and saggy breasts were beautiful? Constant reminders of the amazing capabilities of being female.
Who says that scars are ugly? Maybe they could be reminders of the most important events in our lives. I call my C-section scare my "mom-ento" because when Sam's a full grown man one day, I'll have my tiny 5 inch scare to remind me of the day they pulled his little brand new body out of me. Or any scar for that matter; they can remind us of close encounters, of learning experiences, or even of fun times.
It would take a lot of work to rewire our thinking. Society reminds us everyday. But if we could try... imagine how much more genuine and beautiful life could be.

Humpty Dumpty

So Sam has discovered the wonderful world of dancing, and he is HOOKED. Turn on any kind of music, any time of day and it's like BAM!- it just hits him. His knees start to dip, his head starts to bob... and the music takes over his body. This is really cute and funny to watch. The other day Monee, one of my best friends was over and Sam is really into Monee. Like he's hoping to pull an Ashton Kutcher when he turns 18 kind of into.
She wanted to see his moves so we turned on Prince.
And then it happened.

Sam dropped it to the ground, got on his belly, and began rabidly humping the floor. He was like a crazy man. He was humping like the very action determined life or death. It was shocking. And hilarious.

At first I thought it was the Prince, I mean c'mon those are some sexy tunes. But then today while suffering through NickJr, Wow Wow Wubzy came on and the theme music (which is definitely not sexy) ignited the same reaction from my little Casanova.
There he was, holding the side of the coffee table, thrusting himself to Wow Wow Wubzy.

If this kind of behavior is any indicator of Sam's future prowess, I will be attending every single school dance. Those girls wont have a chance if Prince comes on.

Unofficial, Self-Appointed, Unpaid, Band Manager

Danny is in a band. It's a thrash metal band named Sacrial. He pretty much owns all that is Sacrial. He wont brag about himself but I have no shame: he writes all the music and lyrics, plays lead guitar, and does vocals. What's so funny, is if you saw us out on a Sunday afternoon at TGIFridays, we'd look like a totally normal couple. Me, with whatever preppy (probably pink) ensemble I had on that day, and Danny in his T-shirt, jeans & cute black-framed specs, and our adorable little curly-haired boy. No one would suspect that on Saturday nights Danny is thrashing out in a band shirt onstage playing metal. I, on the other hand, am probably still wearing pink. But I sit right there supporting him every step of the way!

So a while ago, probably after watching a Behind the Music episode on Sharon and Ozzy, asked Danny if he would ever trust me to manage his band. He laughed. Here's the thing: I offer some pretty priceless advice if I do say so myself, and I always market their shows on my Facebook page and get all my hot friends to come. I tell Danny which parts of songs I feel need adjusting, and although he gets momentarily upset, he sure does go right into the music room and tweak that part. OBviuosly my opinion matters so why not, right?

I have since dubbed myself the USAUBM... the "Unofficial, Self-Appointed, Unpaid Band Manager". This title suits me well because with it, I can fire and hire band members, I can yell at venues that misspell their band name, I can call all the shots about which songs are played, and I can dictate all the merch details.
Not really. That was all a lie.

Really, it makes me feel important and like I'm a part of the team, without having any real power. Ahh such is life. I must say though, this gig is better than being a roadie. Or the water bitch who has to fetch the water when they're onstage. Oh wait, that IS me. :)

We are all united in motherhood

Mother's day is in a couple days and it's gotten me thinking about motherhood in general. I think it's pretty amazing that no matter what race, demographic, even species- women all share this special gift to create life. Tonight while grocery shopping, Sam was running around like a mad man and a woman stocking food got a big smile when she saw him and asked how old he was. She told me her baby was only 5 months but that it was going by so quickly. It was nice that this stranger who might have nothing in the world in common with me, has that. She has motherhood in common and therefor we are united in that way.
I have the previous post about the mama crow who was in distress because her babies were close to a man who was working next to their nest. This bird isn't even human, but I felt bad for her because I too, understand a mother's instinct to protect her young. It's universal.
This mother's Day, I hope that the world can put aside all differences and hate because if there's nothing else we can relate to another woman we know, maybe we can relate to her in that way. And really, what way could be more genuine?