Portland has lost an incredible community member and activist. From the Neighborhood Schools Alliance:

“Our beloved friend, Sheila Rae Brown, passed away Jan. 17, 2007. Sheila was a community organizer with Neighborhood Schools Alliance, and an NSA Steering Committee member. She was a member of Jefferson High School PTSA, a longtime SMART Reader volunteer at Irvington Elementary School, and an active member of the Irvington Neighborhood Association.”

She was lovingly described by a member of NSA as “a model of an engaged, outraged, civilized citizen.”

We can all try to live up to that example. Rest in peace, Sheila. We’ll miss you.

“You are the kind of bad mommy who never feeds her kids.”
— Wacky Boy

Dear Internet,

The Winter Hawks lost tonight. Also there were three fights. This upsets me. I think my partner in crime is going to write about the whole debacle, so you can go over to his place for All Things Hockey.

Now back to me. Did you know, dear readers, that I’ve been writing this blog for nearly two years? That’s right — Valentine’s Day will be my two year anniversary. But I like to celebrate everything early, so I’m taking the week off.

I leave you with:

WACKY MOMMY’S GREATEST HITS: A RETROSPECTIVE

Wacky Mommy Is Here (where it all began)

i cannot blog until the contractors leave (Yeah, reading this will make you never want to have work done on your house)

Friday Advice Column for Wacky Mothers & Others (Advice and recipes — what more could you ask for?)

All Abouts (My Illustrious Literary Career)

Thirteen Ways to Get It Up (this one needs no explanation)

I Had A Bad Year in 1997 (you will possibly cry)

No TV? Yes TV. And Tongue-Kissing (if Wacky Boy hadn’t gotten into a.m. preschool, I really would have committed murder)

An Editorial Wherein I Ain’t too Proud to Beg the Rolling Stones to Retire, Already, Before Keith Falls Out Of A Coconut Tree Again (no, I never posted this on the Stones fan club site, although several of you suggested it. Should I?)

Smooches,

WM

“His name is not Jethro. Or Ro-Ro. You cannot start calling him that.”
— Wacky Boy, when he hears my plan to rename Wacky Dog. (Here are pix of Wacky Dog with my sister’s crazy dog. And did you see this fat lab? Oh. My. Gaaaaaaaaaawd.)

Wacky Girl: “We already washed our hands. Upstairs.”
Wacky Girl’s friend, flatly: “No we didn’t.”

Wacky Girl: “I didn’t throw the ball — he did.”
Wacky Boy, agitated: “No I did not!”

— Wacky Girl discovers the joy of lying

“You read ahead in The Borrowers Afield, but not The Babysitters’ Club? No fair.”
— Hockey God to the kids, at bedtime

Hockey God: “Remember how you said you’d put the kids to bed at least once a week? How about you do that?”
Me: “I did. On Wednesday. So you could go to the hockey game, bozo.”
Hockey God: “Bozo. That’s nice.”

“Uh-huh. First I need some Tylenol.” (leaves the room)
— my Mom, when I ask her to read a post on my blog

“What I need, and it is not a hug, is help on this puzzle.”
— Wacky Boy

“Don’t lick that!”
— Hockey God, yelling at one of the kids

“The bitch you know is always better than the bitch you don’t.”
— Wacky Mommy

This week I was asked three different questions by three different readers, none of whom went to the right person for advice:

1) Should I have a baby alone (with a sperm donor)? Yes or no? I feel like I will regret it if I don’t.

2) How do I find a great guy like Hockey God?

3) Why didn’t any of you (bleep-bleep) moms tell me how hard nursing would be?

Sure, those are easy enough questions. I’ll bite. Oh, that’s not me biting — that’s a nursing baby!

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Those of you visiting from Mom’s Daily Dose, que pasa, mamas? Welcome!

More in a bit — need to run kids to school.

For Thursday, Jan. 11th, 2007, here’s my Thursday Thirteen:

THIRTEEN WAYS I’M LOSING POUNDS AND POUNDS

13. By saying “no.” No to candy bars, french fries, Taco Bell (I love you Taco Bell. Miss you. Kisses!), no to mochas (no to daily mochas, at any rate… more on mochas later…). No is a great word.

12. By trying to work out daily. Walks, yoga, stairstepper, stretches. I bought two pairs of running shoes on clearance and keep an old pair of sneakers next to the stairstepper, which Hockey God bought me for cheap-cheap at Play It Again Sports.

Now, and for probably the next three months, are the best times to buy used work-out equipment. Do any of us keep our New Year’s resolutions? No, we do not. Use this to your advantage. Check the stores, Craigslist, the classifieds, your neighbors’ garage sales.

Wacky Grandpa bought a deluxe elliptical for a great deal, just because a well-intentioned woman was chagrined to find herself looking at it (but not using it) day after day. I am ready to move to Iowa City just so I can stop by his house daily to work out. It’s the Cadillac of ellipticals. Plus they have a Jacuzzi tub. And a gift-wrapping room. And a huge yard, on a great street with tons of families. Don’t you think we should move in with them?

11. By watching TV while I work out. No more lazing around in bed watching any of my new and old favorite shows. These include, but are not limited to: The Knights of Prosperity, My Name is Earl, THE OFFICE, General Hospital, One Life to Live, LAS VEGAS. And speaking of Josh Duhamel — he is a mere 6’2″. I would have guessed, eh, 6’3″, 6’5″ possibly. But he looks much taller. You know why? He is not fat. No, no Taco Bell for Josh. No chalupas there, baby.

10. I did a whole “mind-over-body” trip on myself. I reduced stress. How? By not stressing! Stress creates stress. Yeah, getting rid of The Contractors Who Refused to Leave helped. That helped a lot. Did I mention we finally paid them? That’s right. I told them they took four months to finish my bathroom, so I figured waiting four months after that to pay them was fair enough. Contractor, after hearing this: Gulp. Really, you don’t want to ever try to crush my legs because I will spring back from it, and vengeance will be mine.

9. I stopped drinking booze. (Bonus: This has saved us a ton of cash when dining out.) I was thinking that drinking was reducing stress, but I was leaning on it too much, which created more stress. Speaking of…

8. We stopped dining out so much. I’ve started substituting a bowl of soup (with no bread) for a meal whenever I can. (I try for once a day — it’s more like once every other.) Ditto a bowl of cereal (non-sugary) for a waffle. A cup of yogurt instead of a grilled cheese… You get the idea.

7. I started drinking more water. Eight-ten 8 oz. glasses every day. I keep a little notebook and tally it up. I also take fiber, vitamins, calcium and anything else I can find in the medicine chest. Kidding! about that last item. I am no druggie. I’m ditzy enough already. (You are welcome to disagree with me. Please.)

6. I started thinking about my kids, started moving like them, eating the way they eat, just trying to keep up with them, basically. I am 42. They are not. Who do you think has more energy? And speaking of…

5. I’m trying to get enough sleep every night. This is not easy, because I spaz. Especially when it’s 11 o’clock, and I hear a train whistle blow, and it reminds me of when I was a kid and my dad would get home from work (he worked swing). And then one night he didn’t. You know what helps for freak-outs such as this? Don’t laugh. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. Because we all have a little ADD mouse (or moose, or pig) living inside of us, and it’s OK. You just have to learn to cope with it, that’s all.

4. More on the mochas: I fix myself coffee at home, and put a little chocolate syrup in. I call it an “almost-mocha.” And since it has no whipped cream, and not as much chocolate as a coffeehouse mocha, it does not have nearly as many calories.

3. More on #10 (the mind-over-body thing). I came to terms with some things I couldn’t fight: The Nasty Neighbor, for instance. Remember her? How could we ever forget her. Did I mention she wears leggings that she sort of oozes out of? She is not the sort of gal who should wear leggings. Especially not with a too-tight T-shirt, tucked in at the waist and baby blue Crocs. Ouch.

Dress. For. Your. Body. Type. Please, people, I just cannot stress this enough. I don’t care if you’re tall, short, heavy, thin, busty, flat, with a bubble-butt, whatever. Dress in a way that doesn’t accentuate your flaws. For instance, those of us with voluptuous asses should not have the words JUICY printed across them on our track pants. Whew, sorry I’ve been needing to get this off my large, curvy chest for awhile. Also, the neighbor felt the need to put up a pop-up canopy, sort of like this one, over her back patio.

So the dog poop won’t wash away in the rain. God, it is hideous.

God, maybe I’m not as over her as I thought I was. But for real, I am trying to focus on other stuff and it has reduced my stress level a ton. One of my friends suggested I hang twinkly lights in my kitchen window, as a distraction. I also put some pretty blue bottles on the windowsill. Ahhh, nice!

2. Baby weight is no joking matter. It’s like your body is all, “Baby! Ah, babies! I will keep these nice, soft extra pounds on as cushion, in case I decide to bear triplets! Ah, breastmilk, I’m ready for you again!” NO, NO, A THOUSAND TIMES NO. I told my body, “Sorry, but it’s time to shut down production.” And it did. And no cortisol stress going to belly, since I’m de-stressing. Ah!! Bubble baths are great, I must say. And I’ve started writing more in my journal. The blog helps, too. I love Thee, Blog, and the readers and friends I’ve met through you.

1. And… I cut back on baking. I love to bake. This one is the worst. Wish me luck, and good luck to you, too, if you’re trying to get or stay in shape.

Happy Thursday!

One of my old friends — who is no longer a friend at all, I am sad to report — became a real hotshot. Got the fancy job, moved out of the country, then to another country, then to another country — became a big dog with her company. Married, sooooooooooooooo happy. Allegedly. Has two adorable children. Not allegedly — they’re real.

(Does she read this blog? I think not. Do I care if she figures out this is her I’m kvetching about? No, not really. I’ve told her all this before, in person.)

Am I jealous? No. I hate flying, and she flies constantly. My kids are also adorable. And we’re all allegedly happy. (Joke — we’re for-real happy.) My husband is, you know, a honey. And plays hockey and is a big strapping guy. Wall of Hockey God, I call him. Also, I actually get to hang out with my kids, whereas she works 50-60 hours a week. Yeah, I need to stop going around calling people “asshat” (thank you Snickrsnack Katie for a new list of insults — “asshat,” “asstroll,” pretty much anything with the word “ass” attached heh heh heh).

Where was I? Am I ADD? Possibly. All I know is that most people, when they take Sudafed, get jittery. I get focused and am able to complete tasks in an orderly fashion. Sudafed: Mommy’s Little Ritalin. We were talking, this former friend and I, it’s been ages ago, and she’s all “blah-blah, my exciting life, blah-blah, off to important meeting at the Consulate… What’s your schedule like this week?” It was a Tuesday, and she’d caught me in a Zen-like (probably Sudafed-induced) moment, so I said:

“On Tuesdays I usually bake bread.”

Feeble, so feeble. My daughter and husband love my homemade bread. We have a breadmaker, it’s easy. Takes five minutes to throw the stuff in the bread pan…

1 1/2 cups warm water
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
3 tablespoons honey or sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup oatmeal
2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup + 1/3 cup white flour
2 teaspoons yeast

Put on wholewheat setting, light crust. Takes four hours and 10 minutes until it’s done. If you want to make it the “real way,” follow the instructions on a wholewheat bread recipe for the kneading and rising times. Bon fucking appetit from the little mousy housewife. The little mousewife.

I don’t know what I said to her after that. (No, I didn’t give her the recipe — I just put that there for you.) I probably made something up about manuscripts in the works, a bevy of agents beating on my door, sorry gotta go, who knows. All I know is that I let my own, inane remark make me feel feeble and like “oh what a good lil housewife” for quite some time after.

Then Wacky Girl came along one day and saw that I was trying to find my way blindly through my day. Dishes undone. Laundry in heaps. Dog, kids, cats unfed. Hair? Yeah, a mess. Some days just are a disaster around here. She made me a list:

1 Make brid!!!!!! (She then crossed off the “i” and turned it into a “e”)
2 Wash dishis!!!
3 Take a brak for 8 menet’s
4 Plea’s go to bed

Then she worried for awhile. Would it overwhelm me, The List?

“Mommy, is eight minutes a long time? Because I wanted you to have a long break.”

There is nothing feeble about me, or my life. I taped her list to the cupboard and it makes me smile, everyday.

This is a wonderful life. It’s Wednesday. I baked some bread today. And wrote.

I am a Frappacino. How did they know?

It is National Delurking Week, as the Birthday Girl just pointed out.

So delurk, would you? What do you want from me? More recipes? Fewer? More sex talk? Less? More stories about children stabbing themselves? More tragic stories about my past?

More pictures? Dammit, I hate putting up photos. I mean, it’s basic enough, but I just have a mental block about it. That and geometry.

Here’s a funny story about the Crier and her Arch Nemesis:

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For Today’s Discussion:

I was just e-ing with my friend, a lover of literature and words, about our early influences. She feels, in hindsight, that she was much too harsh on Woolf. And that perhaps she should have branched out from Jonathan Livingston Seagull and Valley of the Dolls. She is wrong. JLS was a fine example of what each of us should strive for in personal growth. And the Dolls? You do not want to end up being a doll or popping dolls. I think we can all learn a little something here.

I can see, in hindsight, that throughout my college years, I loved Toni Morrison and “The Song of Solomon” to the exclusion of everything else. Except Shakespeare. And John Donne. And “Rosemary’s Baby” (the film and the book). And the movie “Sid and Nancy.”

My other early influences, both cinematic and literary? Here goes:

Am/have always been extremely fond of Truman Capote (his Southern writing, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s) and Eudora Welty

Double features my parents took me to as a child:

Jonathan Livingston Seagull/Brian’s Song (at the Bagdad Theatre in Southeast Portland. My dad and his best friend L took us. I remember them bawling like babies — “I love you, man!” Heehee. Pretty sweet.)

Deliverance/Dirty Harry (at the drive-in. Mom and Dad thought my sister and I would sleep through both films. We did not. Not so sweet.)

My favorite books as a child and teen:
Looking for Mr. Goodbar (which I often refer to when writing the Friday Advice Column for Wacky Mothers & Others)
I’m OK/You’re OK
Transactional Analysis book my mom had
Yellow Brick Road self-help book (mom and dad’s book)
Go Ask Alice (a fraud!!!! Pure fiction! Aiiiiiiii I cannot take it.)
Sunshine (this is still my favorite, and yes, I wrote my senior honors essay on it in high school.)
anything by Judy Blume (esp. “Wifey”) and Norma Klein (esp. “Mom, the Wolfman and Me”)
The Silver Crown/Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH (Robert C. O’Brien — My daughter and I are reading the latter now, she’s liking it)
The Borrowers
Hans Brinkman and the Silver Skates
The Joy of Sex
Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex (and Were Afraid to Ask) — I loved this one because it was so… off. Somehow. But I didn’t really know how it was off and had no one to ask.

Your influences? Please list, and describe.