Alive in Wonderland

Put down the Purell and go see the movie 'Babies'

 

Babies are resilient.  Babies are tough. Babies have a wicked sense of humor. Babies can spend the first year of their life licking dirt, spending time unsupervised, and cuddling with cows and still enter into the toddler stage healthy and happy. 

These are all things I learned after watching the brilliant documentary "Babies."  

Every parent should take the time to go see this movie. It follows the first year of life of four babies living in Africa, Mongolia, Tokyo and San Francisco.  It wasn't only the dramatic differences in the way the babies were being raised that was fascinating--the African baby has his 'hair cut' with a machete, the Mongolian baby taken home from the hospital on the back of a motorcycle--it was also the underlaying truth that babies are babies, no matter where they hang their...well, I would say diaper, but only two of the four ever wears one.

Take a look at this video about the movie with an interview with its French makers-- Thomas Balmes, Director and Alain Chabat, Producer. (Unrelated: Is there anything cuter than a French man saying the word "babies?") 

Click here.

 I think they hit on it in their interview, as long as there is love, the babies were happy and healthy.  So, put down the Purell and go give your baby a rock to play with, really, it's fine.  

 

What are Miley Cyrus' parents thinking?

Where to start? If you haven't seen Miley Cyrus' new video, get an eye-full here. Keep in mind Miley is 17 years old and if you have a little girl yourself,  she most likely has at least one Miley Cyrus laden t-shirt, or thermos, or black lace bustier...well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

   

Okay, so let's just skip that part where it's kind of a ridiculous video. Most of us lived through the '80s and have loved many-a campy, overly conceptualized music video. Let's even skip over the nagging feeling that every female recording "artist" seems to, at some point, end up rolling on the ground with her fingers in her mouth. It's almost a cliche at this point. 

Fine. I won't even mention all that. 

 What went through my mind the minute I saw this was, "What are her parents thinking?" How can a father of a teenage girl green light this nonsense? Isn't this his precious daughter? We will just have to wait for that episode of Celebrity Rehab to air in five years to find out from Miley herself, I guess.  

Watching this I just felt incredibly sad for her. For all girls who don't have parents who would fight like hell to never let their teenager daughter's honor and modesty get trampled by 50 backup dancers and a pair of black thigh-high boots. 

 Yeah, I said it--modesty. 

My daughter, who's almost nine-years-old, and I watched the video together. She was perplexed. She kept saying, "That's not Miley." Then at the end she was quiet and finally it came out. The prefect response: "I can't believe I named a WebKinz after her." 

Maybe we can get her name legally changed.

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 I can get like this sometimes. 

Other rants:

"It's beginning to look a lot like... a kegger."

"Things that make you go ewww!"

Guy Fieri's National "Cook With Your Kids Day"

This Saturday is National "Cook with your Kids Day."  The passionate and hyper force behind this three-year old measure is celebrity chef--Guy Fieri.  

I had a chance to ask Guy about the benefits of families cooking together and why he thinks it's an important skill for kids.  In the video he also tells a great story about the first steak he cooked for his dad. I dare you not to be pumped after you watch it:

If you want to know more about National Cook With Your Kids Day or find out what's on the menu for my family on Saturday, click over to my blog at OC Family.  

Keeping it in Perspective

 

Here's my post featured in this month's issue of OC Family Magazine:

 

 

There are a few sure signs that you have entered the land of grown-ups-- paying taxes; treating your parents' to an expensive, swanky dinner; or even listening to Neil Diamond without shame. But, you know what really makes you feel like you're firmly an adult? Speaking to your kid's class about what you do for a living. So when my daughter's third grade teacher asked me to talk to her class about being a professional writer and blogger, let's just say I felt my age--in a good way.

It was 10:00 am on a Wednesday morning. I stood in front of about 50 eight- and nine-year olds in a darkened room with my blog "Alive in Wonderland" projected behind me. I kicked off the talk with one word: perspective.

 "Who knows what the word 'perspective' means?" I asked, and a smattering of hands went up. (Point to the first kid.) "Um....," no answer. (All other kids put their hands down.) "Perspective is the way you see something," I tell them. "No one else in the world has your same perspective. It's like your own creative fingerprint, and that is what you should focus on in your blog."

 I could tell by their bewildered faces they needed an example. "Let's say, Sam and Matthew—you both play a game of baseball and Sam, you lose, and Matthew, you win." At this, Sam immediately gives me the never-gonna-happen look. "Sam, your perspective when you write about the game would be different than Matthew's, right?" He nods his head yes and his Yankee's cap goes up and down. "That's your perspective. It's how you saw things go down in the game."

 Think of perspective as your secret super power, I tell them. "Showing your perspective is a powerful tool in photography, videos, writing, and even in your daily life." I drive the point home by showing them my other blog, "Orange County Daily Photo," which harnesses the talents of seven photographers all sharing their perspective of our great county. 

I pull up a photo of a roller coaster at Knott's Berry Farm. "Here is this photographer's perspective of a roller coaster--bet you've never seen it like this before," they all laugh, nod their heads and I'm pretty sure I hear a couple of them say "awesome!" 

It's starting to sink in. Perspective is a powerful tool in parenting as well. Sometimes I get wrapped up in the day-to-day fracas of being a mom--all the little battles lost or won. The endless details and logistics of running my kids' lives haze the goal and I can lose perspective of my main job as a parent: to raise responsible adults who contribute to society in a positive way.

 But, it's hard to remember that when I'm locked in a heated argument with my son about the importance of wearing socks or frantically searching Michael's for a bag of green marbles or scraping dried macaroni and cheese off the kitchen chairs. All of my efforts, big and small, are all going toward the larger goal, and keeping it all in perspective is a daily endeavor.

 After I wrapped up my talk and each kid assured me they wanted to start their own blog (which I strongly urge every kid over the age of seven to do), and as I was saying goodbye one of the boys said to my daughter, "Emily, you have the coolest mom EVER!" My daughter rolled her eyes and turned a nice shade of pink. "Carter," I said to him, "I like your perspective."

Photo by Gregg Gallagher

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Some of my past columns, just in case you got some time to kill:

Lessons in parenting: lying to your kids

A curious pear

Girls in glasses

 

Snapped; The Mommy Edition

 

Scene: Dive bar just outside Orange County. It was a hot day.  Too hot to be inside, still I walked into the dark barroom quickly and with great expectations.  The sun filtered in through the dirt and bumper stickers on the window and the light illuminated all the dust particles in the dead bar air.  I was overcome by the smell mixed equally of stale cigarettes, beer sweat and tinkle.  

I let my eyes adjust and scanned the room looking eagerly for the face for someone I've never seen before. Someone I knew only as 'Gene.'  As soon as I laid my eyes on the slumped, Micky Rouke circa 9 1/2 weeks throwback man leaning motionless against the bar, I knew he was the one I was there to see.  

I sidled up to the seat next to him, and after taking a Wet Wipe to the ripped red vinyl cushion, I sat down and order a wine cooler.  The bartender looked at me with a perplexed face and then I clarified, "Oh, sorry, a STRAWBERRY / LIME wine cooler." He then walked away shaking his head and went through the curtains into the back room, never to be seen again.

"You Gene?" I asked as I checked my iPhone for a text from my girlfriend confirming she picked up my kids.  "Yeah, you Lizzy?"  he said into his drink.   (Good, she picked them up on time. What? "No, no Icee!" I furiously typed, "Just bring them to your house like I said." Sheesh!) "Yes, I'm Suz....LIZZY, I'm Lizzy," I confirmed, nodding like a bobblehead with a big, geeky smile.  

"So, who do you want me to whack?" he said, again into his drink.  

"What? You need to sit up and look at me when you talk. No one is going to respect you if you mumble," I corrected him.  

He did exactly what I said and then he asked again, "You know, who do you want to dispose of?"  

"Well," I said, looking around for the bartender, "It's not exactly a 'Who' as it is a 'What.'"   

**Journey's "Open Arms" comes on the juke box and for a minute were both lost in the sadness and hope of it.  

"Listen Lady, I don't have time for your little word games," Gene was getting agitated with me.  

**Cheerful Shrug** 

"Like I said, It's not a 'Who' I want rid of... I will pay you handsomely to make my...my laundry disappear. I want it gone. I don't ever want to see it again and I don't care how you do it. Just make it clean and make sure it never comes back," I blurted out in double-time. It felt so good to finally come out and say it out loud.

Then Gene did that little laugh men do when they think you're crazy, when they want to discount a perfectly reasonable request.  My brothers did that to me growing up...and my husband did it last week when I said I thought  he needed to use conditioner on his hair, **that laugh** "Conditioner, yeah, okay..."

I snapped and in a quiet scream, through my perfectly glossed motionless lips I tell him, "Listen Chuckles, first of all women hate it when guys do that laugh and I can see by the absences of a wedding ring you have had no luck in that arena so cut out the condescending attitude. Second of all, I'm willing to pay handsomely with the money I earned from  selling knitted latte cozies on Etsy. So that's it! I'm taking a hit out on my laundry." 

I was really on a roll now...

"Obviously," I continued, " You don't know what it's like to hate something so much that you're willing to risk it all--the house, the Escalade, the double oven and the holiday newsletter---in order to see it killed."

No stopping me now...

"Obviously, from the smell of you, you haven't done laundry in a very long time... Obviously, you don't know what it's like to finish a task only to see it waiting for you the next day, double the size and the next and the next...Like some crazed, evil monster sent to the earth only to mock and torture you. Well, that is what I want to die, so if you aren't man enough for the task just say the word and I'll take my cash somewhere else."

At this point I realize I'm practically sitting on poor Chuckles's lap. He had, not so much a scared look on his face, but more a look that comes from nagging someone into obedience.  I was in my comfort zone. I backed off, sat back down and dug through my purse for the cash.  

"Here," I said as I threw it down in front of him. "There's an extra grand in it for you if you take care of 'making dinner,' too."   I then turned on my sensible heels and marched out to my Escalade. I then started the long drive back to Orange County--smiling the whole way.

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This was written for my blog over at OC Family, head over there for comments and assorted silliness. "My blog at OC Family

A Comic Strip: The Tooth Fairy

 

 

   

  

     

   

  

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For more about my mommy life head over to OC Family and read my blog there.  

Today: Getting Schooled by Homework.

Meh...Otter, Gopher, Beaver...all my knowledge of animal life comes from cartoons. 

 

Be like me. Wait! Scratch that.

 

This is a photo of my daughter and me.  We both love our Converse. 

I wrote a story to go along with  the script over on my blog at  OC Family. 

 

Best Shot Monday: Tiny Moments

The very wonderful Tracey Clark asks us for our Best Shot Monday this week,"What tiny moments make up our lives?" For me, the little moments with my kids are the most precious. The little looks.  The little giggles. The little moments of glory. 

I love this photo of Ben...er, um, I mean Batman. Look at those eyelashes! I know, it's hard to act tough when you have hordes of women swooning and envious of your lashes, but he tries.  

 

 

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On another note about boys,  I don't care if the book says Max came home because he was hungry, I know he really comes home because he misses his mom.  But, I'm letting Max stick to his story.  I get it.  It's important to be tough.

 

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Today I'm listening to The Smiths  "There is a light that never goes out." 

 

Dear Baby Einstein: Keep the cash!

“Hi, I’m Julie Clark, founder of The Baby Einstein Company…” 

More women have gotten naked to the sound of Julie’s voice than to the sound of Barry White, Marvin Gaye and Steve Perry’s voice combined. Why? That's how every Baby Einstein video begins and it has been the cue for a lot of moms that it's now time to take a shower. I would pop in Baby Mozart or Baby Beethoven just to get a break from my little bundle of joy and get squeaky clean, not because I really believed my kid would grow up to be genius because she watched it. 

Last week Disney, who bought the Baby Einstein brand from Julie Clark in 2001, is offering a refund to consumers of the video series because—surprise—it won’t make your baby smarter. The FTC says this in their statement, “There’s no credible evidence that screen media can educate infants.” 

Yeah, we kinda knew that already FTC, but have you ever gone four weeks without shaving your legs or eight hours without talking to another adult? I thought not…I liked Baby Einstein and used it strictly for the thrill of being clean. It was a benefit to me to not look like a swamp monster when my husband came home from work. That was the value. Give us moms a little credit here FTC, “educating infants” wasn’t the goal here, Sillies.  

I suppose the alternative to Baby Einstein would have been letting my baby stare out the window for 20 minutes or play with my hair dryer and bobby pins until I was done freshening up, but, to be honest, I kinda liked those little puppets and the music of Baby Einstein served as the soundtrack to my little respite from momminess. 

It’s not like I plopped my baby in front of the tube for hours on end (well, there was that one day…) and thought I was doing her a solid by giving her a jump start on her education: Moving her well ahead of her diaper-clad friends. I always knew it was just a distraction, a little amusement for her while mommy "got ready."

Compared to the other “screen media” like Barney and The Wiggles, Baby Einstein was bearable to watch and the music was…well, classical. The only thing that annoyed me about the video series was the fact that I didn’t think of it myself, market it, and sell it to Disney for millions. 

So, you might have clued in, I won’t be cashing in on Disney’s offer to refund my money. In fact, I want to give a BIG shout out to Disney and especially Julie Clark for keeping me clean and (occasionally) coifed during the baby years—Thanks! Oh, and Julie, if you ever put out your own CD, please do a duet with Steve Perry, women around the nation will go wild for it! 

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This was written for my blog at OC Family. Head on over there to see what you're missing.

I'm up and writing at OC Family

 

I've got my first couple of posts up and running at OC Family. My column is also out in the print issue. If you can't get your hands on an OC Family Magazine, here it is: "You're Soooo Orange County."

You can click over and read my "Post Halloween Ritual" on my blog there as well. If you're still grousing about a bad deal you got from a Nov 1st candy trade with an older sibling years ago, you'll be happy to know, you're not the only one.  Go read...

 

Hello OC Family

(Photos by the lovely Dana Sipper)

So, what am I going to do now?  

I've accepted a position at Churm Media as  lead blogger for OC Family.  That means four times a week you can find me there talking about mom stuff, non-mom stuff, and of course, the occasional post about roller skating, Lip Smackers, and Ducks hockey.   Irresistible, no? 

The very idea of representing O.C. Moms at OC Family made me swoon, but the best part about the job was choosing 14 other O.C. Mom Bloggers to join me there on the web site.  The thought of all of us there ranting, opinionizing (it's not a word, don't bother looking it up), and giving our suggestions for the best things to do in O.C. makes my toes tingle (but that might just be the mini-margarita kicking in). 

Go ahead and bookmark ocfamily.com now, I'll wait.............or become a friend on Facebook....... and look for all of us to go live there on Nov. 1st.  Also, keep an eye out for my column, Alive in Wonderland, in the November issue.   I just turned it in today and if you think I didn't mention OC Family's Mom Bloggers' ambitions of World Domination, you're sadly mistaken.  Don't we look fierce? 

Photos by the lovely Dana Sipper. 

Emily's Locks of Love challenge

It was a day almost a year in the making--the day my eight-year-old daughter, Emily, was going to get her hair chopped off for Locks of Love. She orginally got the idea when she saw George Parros, of the Anaheim Ducks, cut off his long black hair for charity. Though she wanted to do it with him this winter (read that story here), the morning drama and the heat of the season got to be too much for her. She got it cut off and donated her hair this summer to Locks of Love.

I think it was harder on me than her. I was surprised I was so nervous about it. As we drove to the "salon" I felt nostalgic looking at her long locks and worried a little about what lay ahead. I remember too clearly the hair fiascos in my own past--frizzy perms,misguided asymmetrical bobs, and hair made orange by Sun-in. I worried for about half the drive, then I started to think about the moms whose daughters have cancer. How their worries and fears leap far past my frivolous concerns. And once again, I was surprised by my own pettiness. (When does that stop happening?) I snapped out of it and pulled out my camera.

Emily was unwavering and chatty through the entire thing. She proudly held up her ponytail to the camera and eagerly shoved it into the baggy. I have to admit, that ponytail was a little creepy, like carrying one of her limbs around in a ziplock. You don't realize how much your hair is a part of you until you see it severed and lonely through plastic. I guess that's all the more reason to support Locks of Love. Kids with cancer have already lost so much, this was a minor sacrifice in comparison.

Now Emily is asking all her friends to join her to grow their hair out for next year. She already has two friends on board and is hoping that this post will get more friends to participate. Email me at suzbroughton@yahoo.com if your daughter is inspired.  Maybe we can do a Locks of Love party when it's time to get it lopped off...

We just meant to scare them a little, not scar them for life

Art work available on Etsy.

Chalk this one up to "one of those things you can laugh about with your kids later." Like WAAAY later. My husband, Larry, and I were just thinking of a creative way to get our kids to brush their teeth for two minutes. We had tried it all; toothbrushes that play "High School Musical" songs, cute little timers, threats, and, the old standard, blatant bribes. 

Then we thought, "What about scaring the living daylights out of them?" Kidding. We didn't plan on doing that, but that's what happened. One night last week after the usual hassle / battle at the basin, Larry decided to show the kids what will happen if they don't brush their teeth twice a day for two minutes -- implementing the scare 'em straight method. Where did he go for this kind of propaganda? Why YouTube, of course. 

He found this lovely video of the foulest teeth you'll ever see, ever. So we plopped them down in front of my computer and let them watch this video (right before bed, mind you). I am warning you, this is D.isgusting with a capital "D."

 Watch it at your own risk. 

I know! It's like the dental version of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Gross, right? Yea, our kids thought so too. Mission accomplished. They scurried to the bathroom practically tripping over each other to get to their toothbrushes. But when we went to put them to bed, Emily, our eight-year-old, was crying, obviously traumatized by the whole thing.  

We both took turns sitting up and talking with her until she fell asleep. Larry and I both kept shooting each other the "Oops" look as we passed each other in the hallway, switching shifts. The next morning Emily asked that we never speak of "that video" again. Done. It's in the vault...but, she has brushed her teeth for two minutes ever since.

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This is the video I remember from the '70s Saturday morning cartoon era.

Time for Timer

   

Totally agree. This would have have been a far better choice.

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This was something I wrote for MomCrush, but never posted here.  I'm home with a sick kid today, so thought it would be a good day for repost.  But, just as a follow-up, Emily saw I was coping this post and said, "Mommy! You promised! Never again!"  

My idol wears Spiderman band-aids

So my son Ben came home from the first day of kindergarten with what I think is the perfect and most fitting memento, especially for a boy--an injury report.  Not that I'm happy he was hurt, but because it told me  he got out there and played hard.  He jumped high. He ran fast. He tried something a little over his ability. He tried something new. 

So he biffed it?  So what?  

It made me smile when I glimpsed him in the rearview mirror as he happily chattered away about his day, emptied his sand-filled shoes on the back floor of my car, Spiderman band-aids on his knee and elbow, then handed me the piece of paper.   "Here, I burned-in on the playground. It was fun." 

I want to be more like Ben.  He was kinda my idol at that moment. 

Other things I've written on MomCrush about my kids and school:

✬  Mensa Mamma

✬  Is there anything cooler than a 5-year-old boy?

✬  second graders really want to know.

Who is this person pushing the Pringles on my kids?

After spending a week at my mom and dad's house with my family I was overcome with one, albeit  immature,  feeling: NO FAIR!!!

The first morning my mom had already prepared the breakfast table with every sweet delight that was banned from my house growing up -- Fruit Loops, Frosted Flakes,  enough sugar cereal to fuel a 5- and 8-year-old through more than a morning's worth of tantrums and meltdowns.

I know the topics of  "Grandparents spoil their grandkids" and "Why do my kids get the foods I never got as a kid?" have been done to death, but this is a little different, because, frankly, it's happening to me.

In my family growing up, my mom filled the kitchen with the healthiest food the '70s had to offer: Roman Meal bread (instead of Wonder Bread), grape juice from concentrate (instead of soda), Red "Delicious" Apples (instead of fruit cups), Triskets (instead of chips), and, the worst travesty of all, Laura Scudder's Peanut Butter (instead of, you know, peanut butter). Laura Scudder's is the kind that has the oil sitting on the top that you have to stir in like some kind of cruel science experiment.  It's thick and pasty and there is zero chance of not ripping your bread to pieces when spreading it. My mom has  even admitted that she used to put wheat germ in our brownies as a "fiber booster." What kind of twisted ...

All this was done in the name of eating healthy, and to this day I think I have pretty good eating habits because of it (my man-food habit aside). I'm grateful to her for her efforts, and even though as a kid it seemed like my friends were eating Pop Tarts, Pop Rocks and Sugar Pops for breakfast, I knew she did it because she loved us.

So, I just want to know, who is this woman pushing the Pringles on my kids and what has she done with my mom?

My mom has taken on legendary spoiling status among our friends.  We get requests to tell the same stories over and over again. Like once, after seeing Disney on Ice at The Honda Center, my mom bought Emily, my daughter, cotton candy on the way out the door after a whole parade of special treats during the show.  When I protested, my mom shrugged it off and justified it saying cotton candy was "mostly air." Mostly Air!  She's a legend.  This is the sort of thing only a grandmother who is completely head over heels in love with her grandchild would say.

Which leads me to my husband and my stance on the whole subject -- my own personal feeling of  injustice aside -- we think it's wonderful.  Our kids are lucky to have a grandma and gramps who love them and spoil them rotten. So many of my friends have lost one or both of their parents already, or their kids' grandparents can't be bothered with them, or  they live too far away to see them.

It's not like they have no control at all. My parents require our kids treat them and each other with respect.  They make them say "please" and "thank you" and they look after them like hawks, but they just can't help but be spoiled by them -- and that's OK.

That our kids have grandparents that fill them with sugar, let them jump up and down on the couch, and even encourage them to bring frogs into the bathtub is all counted as a blessing in our minds.  It also helps if they're the ones who are watching them when all this is happening, not us ... oh, it's an advantage if we have at least one day of "Grandma-detox" before school, piano lessons, or basically having to bring our kids out in public.

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Random Posts from MomCrush, my blog at The OC Register:

✺ We just meant to scare them a little, not scar them for life.

✺ ...and then, I felt like a cougar.

Be a fan of MomCrush on Facebook.

MomCrush Comic Strip

The latest comic strip I made in Toonlet. Ben really wanted to 'star' in one of his own...

MomCrush Comic Strip

I Found the coolest website called Toonlet thanks to coolest blogger Foolery.

(Yep, pretty sure I can't get away with saying 

"Coolest" anymore.)

What nickname do you have for your son?

My son has an older sister, so it's the natural order of things that he would get some hand-me-downs: helmets, videos, and sometimes, sadly, girlie things. Not princess outfits or Angelina Ballarina backpacks, nothing like that, but he did get stuck with his sister's nickname. It was the endearment that was tip-top on my mind. 

The name had just become a habit, "Please come here, BABYDOLL." It would easily flow from my lips when I would drop him off at preschool, "Have a good day, BABYDOLL." I used it all the time -- everyday. 

Then, one day on the way to school he said, "Mom, could you not call me BABYDOLL? Not with my friends there." How could I have done this to him? Duh! Yes, don't call a boy BABYDOLL. This should be obvious. It's like a double insult, "baby," only like the worse thing you could call a preschooler and "doll." Do I really need to point out the travesty of calling a young boy "doll?" I mean, it's not like I dressed him in heels and a tiara, but, BABYDOLL! Boy image suicide. 

I knew I had to make things right for him. 

So I let him choose his new name. After going through our options -- Little Man, Dude, Blue Power Ranger -- he came up with Dinosaur. He wanted me to call him Dinosaur instead of Babydoll. It was a little bulky for a nickname, but Dinosaur it was. 

Everywhere we went, he was my Dinosaur, and it made people smile in line at Trader Joe's and strangers join in at the park, "Hey Dinosaur, you're going to fall off there if you're not careful." It was fun, but I missed calling him Babydoll, just a little. 

Then one day, as I was driving him home, I accidentally let it slip -- Babydoll. "Oh, gosh, Dinosaur, I'm so sorry." He was understanding and said, "It's okay, you can call me Babydoll sometimes, I miss that." (Yea!) He then quickly made sure to put in one stipulation, "... just not in front of my friends." Deal.

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Could our summer be more random?

My kids have been out of school for one week now. It has been a random, unorganized, fun, and exhausting week.

I will use this photo collage as a visual aid to demonstrate what happens when you have no plan in place when summer hits. So far, this is what our summer has consisted of:

1.) Cherry on Top, have you been here yet? Just don't, because once you do, your desire for this special treat will become a driving force in your life, all other things will revolve around how you can end up there. We even had it for lunch one day.

2.) Spending time with friends.

3.) Staying out until the street lights come on.

4.) Educating my daughter about the awesomeness of Lip Smackers--Watermelon.

5.) Searching the perfect Lemon Drop Martini

6.) Reba. My kids are obsessed with watching the reruns on Lifetime. I have zero idea what the appeal is to a five and eight-year old, but it's a welcome change from Sponge Bob.

7.) Previewing the new summer shows at Disneyland and participating in the press junket (including interviewing Alice in Wonderland). Staying up to the wee hours of the morning editing and writing about all the fun.

8.) Roller Skating. Roller Skating. Roller Skating.

Yea, it's been a pretty good week. But, I still feel like I should have some kind of action plan. Do you have a plan for the summer? Can we wing the entire summer? Watch me try...

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Is there anything cooler than a five-year-old boy?

Ben: I was running so fast at school!

Me: Really?

Ben: Yeah, you know when you run so fast and smoke comes out the back of your shoes?

Me: Yes, that IS fast.

Ben: All my friends behind me were coughing and coughing because of all the smoke.

Me: Oh, my. You are a fast runner.

Ben: Yeah, really, really fast.