Blogger Idol: I'm Out! No, I'm Back In! VOTE FOR ME!!

You can click here to vote for Crazed in the Kitchen

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

Click on Bono to vote for me--that's fun, right?

Well, that may be exaggerating a bit. But my last week in Blogger Idol has been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and now I NEED YOUR HELP!

Our last assignment was to work with another contestant and interview each other. I was lucky enough to be paired with Jenn from "Random Thoughts n' Lotsa Coffee." We had a good time getting to know each other and working on the post together. We burned up facebook and gmail chats, and came up with a great post that you can read here.

Best of times, right?

But, alas, it wasn't enough. Fate and the Blogger Idol judges are fickle, and last Friday I learned that we had been eliminated.

Worst of times.

But the Powers That Be of Blogger Idol had a trick up their sleeves, and on Saturday I learned that I had been...SAVED! THAT'S RIGHT--I'M BACK IN BLOGGER IDOL!!!

BEST OF TIMES AGAIN!

Oh, wait. Except now I have to bring it. And by bring it, I mean BRING IT. Because now I have to prove that they didn't make a mistake in bringing me back.

You could also click here to vote for me

*gulp*

Of course, this week's assignment just HAD to be a doozy: Write about a day in the life of your family as if you were superheroes (click here if you'd like to play at home). Well, I did my best, and as of NOON CST on Wednesday, my post is live at Blogger Idol. You'll have to click over to read it, but let me give you a tease:

My superfamily's super alter egos are called "The Vaginator," "WhereDaddy," "The Inquisitor," and "Ole Blue Eyes." 

Intrigued? Head over there, read it, and vote! (Um, vote for Crazed in the Kitchen, that is.)

That's right--votes make a huge difference every week! And like I said, I need to bring it this week--with my post and with the votes. So please, let's show those Blogger Idol head honchos that they made the right decision in bringing me back. VOTE FOR CRAZED IN THE KITCHEN!!

Thanks!

Clicking here to vote for me is by far the most fun, don't you think?

Having a Knott's-So-Scary Halloween at Camp Spooky

So, Halloween is here.

Of course, it’s not ACTUALLY here—the day itself is still a few weeks away—but Halloween decorations are everywhere and my kids have taken to wearing their costumes around the house, so in a way every day is Halloween for now.

Last year, we had our first Halloween in our new house. On one of our evening walks, my kids and I discovered a house about a block away that goes all-out with Halloween decorations. I’m talking about a 6-foot spider with light-up eyes on the roof, about 15 life-size scary figures on the lawn, and maybe 30 different strands of Halloween-themed lights strung up on the fence and trees. Every night for weeks my kids and I walked past the “Wicked Witch House,” as they called it, to check on the progress of the decorations.

Like this, only bloodier.

But then one night it all went too far. The vaguely scary vampires and witches had been joined by some horribly gory and bloody baby dolls who were holding equally gory and bloody decapitated heads. I took one look and knew I’d have to choose a new route for our evening walks, at least until Halloween was over. Those babies were just too much for my little guys.

And that aspect of Halloween—the blood and guts and terror—remains a problem to me, as a parent of young children. They love the costumes and the candy, but I feel no need to mess with their already-iffy sleep patterns by introducing nightmare-inducing images of murderous monsters. Please. Less sleep is the LAST thing I need right now.

So I was thrilled to be invited to bring my family to check out Camp Spooky at Knott’s Berry Farm last week. Knott’s has a yearly Halloween celebration called Knott’s Scary Farm’s Halloween Haunt, which is aimed at much-older kids and adults. Camp Spooky (normally “Camp Snoopy”), however, is an area of the park with rides and non-scary Halloween thrills for 3-11 year olds.

And, boy did my boys have a blast at Camp Spooky.

Of course, the first thing they wanted to do was to decorate Halloween cookies at the “Kooky Cookie Painting” area at the Grizzly Lodge. They got comfy at the kid-sized tables and dug into the colored frostings and decorative sprinkles. As a bonus, we were there during “Scary Stories at the Lodge,” which, thankfully, were more silly than scary.

They went for the "Modern Art" look with their cookies.

More decorations = More YUM

Once the boys heard that there was trick or treating throughout Camp Spooky, that was the end of cookie decorating. (Who am I kidding? The cookies were long gone at that point.) The “Spooky Ookie Scavanger Hunt” led them to five different treat stations with five different treats. I appreciated that Knott’s limited the amount of sweets given out through the scavenger hunt (you know, pacing ourselves), and I was thrilled to see this cart with fresh fruit for sale. (OK, we didn’t buy any, but I was glad to know it was an option.)

Many of the kids at Camp Spooky that day were dressed in costumes, and I’m sure many were planning to participate in Snoopy’s Costume Contest and Parade later in the day. My boys ditched their costumes early on and headed straight for the rides—including a toddler-friendly roller coaster. (Um, who knew that a 2.5-year-old who deemed the mall train ride “too scary” would find a roller coaster delightful? And who knew that his 30-something mom would need a good 20 minutes to recover her balance after that same roller coaster ride? Looks like it’s just the mall train for me from now on.) The Ferris Wheel and the The Great Pumpkin Hay Bale Maze were also favorites.

After about 4 straight hours of fun, we had to call it a day and headed for the napmobile, er, car. Parking, unfortunately, was the one part of our day that didn’t bring us joy or candy. The attendants who were directing traffic when we arrived gave us conflicting instructions about where to park, and we ended up walking much farther than we needed to.

But, other than that, it was a great day—perfect for younger kids who aren’t ready for the scary and gory parts of Halloween. If you live in Southern California or plan to visit here in the month of October, you should definitely set aside a day for Knott’s and Camp Spooky. You can find all the details here.

Disclaimer: Yep, Knott’s gave me free tickets to check out Camp Spooky, for which I am truly grateful. But all the opinions above are strictly mine. What can I say? We loved the place. You should definitely go.

How to Make Sure Your Mommy Is the Best She Can Be

Are you a little boy? Do you love your mommy? Do you want to make her everyday experiences more enriching while you help propel her growth and development? Well, I am here to help. I’m Matthew, I’m four years old, and I have dedicated my life to improving my mommy. Now I’d like to help you help your mommy. Are you ready? Let’s go!

Before we get started on all the ways you can help your mommy throughout the day, you have to understand one thing: Mommies have a weird and mysterious body part that you don’t have. It’s called a “vagina.” Mommies like to be frequently reminded of this physical abnormality, so tell or ask them about it incessantly. Also, mommies like using cute little terms of endearment like “Honey Bunny” and “Sweetpea.” Use your knowledge of your mommy’s strange anatomy to come up with a cute little term of endearment for her. I like to call my mommy “Vagina Person.” She loves this special little joke that only we share (well, us and everyone at Target after that one day). Take a moment now and think of your mommy’s new special nickname….

Are you done? Great! Now let’s talk about all the learning opportunities your mommy has throughout her day. Don’t forget to throw in your special nickname for her as you go!

Mommies LOVE coffee!

Your mommy wakes up in the morning needing a little mental and physical stimulation. Help her out. I like to use music to ease my mommy into her day. Choose your favorite song and sing it repeatedly as you dance around her while she tries to drink hot coffee. Mommies appreciate loud volume at this time to help them become more alert and awake. If you really want your mommy to wake up and face the day, substitute one or more words of your song with your favorite potty words. One of my favorites goes like this: “Old McPoopy had a poop. Poop poop poop poop VAGINA!”

Lots of days, after breakfast mommy has to do errands like grocery shopping. If you get to go with her, you have an amazing opportunity to enrich her day and stimulate her senses. First of all, and as always, remember your potty words. I’ll never forget the look on my sweet Vagina Person’s face when I declared in a crowded checkout line, “It smells like a PENIS in here!” Her bright red face and stammering voice were a sure sign of brain cells growing and synapses being formed. 

Mommies love grocery shopping!

Mommy is busy at the grocery store, so this is not the best time to ask her questions directly. Instead, ask the other grocery store patrons your questions. Let mommy learn from their responses when you ask that lady, “Why are you so fat?” or that man in the wheelchair, “Why don’t your legs work? Did your big fat Vagina Person sit on them?”

When you get home from the grocery store, it will probably be time for lunch. Lunch should always be eaten naked or, if that’s not possible, wearing just underpants. Did you know that underpants have a little hole in the front so you can check that your penis is still there? It’s important to check—you just never know. Mommy thinks lunchtime is a great time for me to check my penis, so I try to do it often while I eat. I aim to please, after all.

Speaking of aim, keep mommy’s brain working hard by declaring a potty “emergency” just as she sits down to eat. This makes my mommy nervous and excited, as she knows that every trip to the potty for me is another opportunity for her to practice her cleaning skills. See, Vagina Person says it’s important to get all the pee in the toilet, but I say it’s important to see if you can hit that little fly on the wall. She likes to play little games with me like “Float a Cheerio in the Toilet and Hit it With Pee,” but somehow it always turns into “Hit the Fly on the Wall With Pee.” She may act mad, but she needs these learning experiences to grow and develop. Keep it up!

Mommies love facebook!

After lunch, my Vagina Person likes us all to have what she calls “Quiet Time.” She used to call it “Nap Time,” but my little brother Poopy Stinky Butt and I had a meeting and decided that watching an hour of TV is much preferable to sleeping. Sometimes during Quiet Time your mommy won’t have enough to do. You’ll know this is true if you see her on the phone or sitting in front of the computer. Your mommy needs to be stimulated if she’s going to grow, so don’t allow this idleness. I like this mental challenge in particular: Start crying for no reason. When your mommy asks you what’s wrong, cry harder. When she asks again, scream, “YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU STINKY HEAD!!!” It may result in a time-out, but it’s worth it. We’re helping here, right?

Remember, mommies don’t like to be alone. Their least favorite parts of the day are when they have to go to the bathroom or take a shower. Don’t let them be sad and lonely. Find a way to be with them during these troubled times. If you can’t actually physically join her in the bathroom (um, what happened to the whole we-don’t-lock-the-bathroom-door-young-man thing?), find a way to lure her out. The quickest and easiest way to do this is through Little Brother Torture. Poopy Stinky Butt’s screams of distress always bring my Vagina Person running, dripping wet and naked, to the rescue. Be sure to laugh and scream “NIPPLES!” at these times. Again, red face and stammering voice = growth and development. And that’s a good thing!

Finally, since poor mommy doesn’t have a penis like everyone else in the family, try to share yours with her. Pull it out at unexpected times (again, Target is good) and scream “PENIS!!” so she knows it’s out. I also like to put my mommy’s little things in my underpants then run around the house screaming, “Your Chapstik is touching my penis!!!” This has the added benefit of giving your mommy the physical exercise that facebook and Twitter just don’t provide as she chases you around the house.

So, there you have it. As you can see, it’s easy to use your everyday daily activities to stimulate and enrich your mommy’s brain, body, and senses. Next week we’ll discuss sleeping and bedtime with a post called “How to Make Sure Your Mommy Doesn’t Get Too Much Sleep.” Until then, keep your volume up and your penis out!

This story was originally posted as my second weekly entry as a contestant on Blogger Idol. To see the judges' comments, read it again here. And be sure to follow me on facebook and Twitter to find out about the next round of Blogger Idol, coming up on Wednesday!

Arizona Memories, or How I Learned my Grandma is a Stone-Cold Killer

Yes, it’s true. My Grandma is a stone-cold killer. I learned this 25 years ago, when my brother, Alex, my mom and I were visiting my grandparents at their home in Arizona. My mom found a scorpion in her room, and Alex and I watched wide-eyed as Grandma beat the venomous pest to death with a fly swatter. Didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink an eye.

And, at almost 93, the woman is badass to this day. In my opinion, pretty much all you have to do to be badass at 93 is to be 93. But my grandma does even more than that. Not only does she get around, run errands, and visit family in the area, but every year for the past 6 years or so, she has welcomed our large extended family to her retirement home for a noisy party in celebration of her birthday.

And every year as I get ready to shepherd my own growing family to Arizona for the festivities, I am bombarded with bittersweet memories of parties past.

The first year we celebrated Grandma’s birthday, I showed up at the airport giddy with a secret: I was 13 weeks pregnant with my first baby. Only my mom knew, and she and I spent hours together that weekend going over baby names, analyzing my pregnancy symptoms, and talking about my own babyhood. It was one of the times in our turbulent relationship that I felt closest to my mom. At the end of the birthday dinner that Saturday night, we told Grandma my good news. Three generations shared a hug and happy tears.

Mom and newborn Matthew, before she got sick

At the next year’s party, life was both wonderful and awful. My husband and I had a healthy 5-month-old baby. My aunts, uncles, cousins, and Grandma passed Matthew around from lap to lap, giving him as much love as he could take and then some. But when they passed my infant son to my mom, my heart nearly broke. She was two months in to a devastating and failing fight with lung cancer. She laughed and chatted with the group, but she wasn’t quite herself. She wore a wig to cover a head made bald by chemo, and she spent a good deal of time resting. I’ll never forget tiptoeing into the hotel room she shared with Alex to see her and Matthew napping together, their matching bald heads stark against the white hotel bed linens. I didn’t know it then, but I would see her just one more time after that weekend before she died.

Over 20 people from my family made it to Phoenix for my Grandma’s next birthday, but to me, my mom’s absence was even bigger than the crowd of well-wishers who gathered at the party. I was pregnant with my second son, and still not quite able to believe that he would never know his grandma. I sobbed as I hugged my aunts and uncle goodbye at the end of the weekend.  My mom had been dead for nine months, but somehow being surrounded by the love of her family made me miss her more than ever.

My grandma has had more birthday celebrations since then, and each year my family and I were there making new Arizona memories. One year, my younger son, William, learned to crawl on my Aunt Nancy’s living room rug. The next year, I watched Matthew’s face light up with joy as he played with my Uncle Rick in his pool, just as Alex and I did in our grandparents’ pool 30 years earlier. All the time, I missed my mom. I wanted her to see my boys as they grew. I wanted to tell her about my blog, squeal with delight with her about Alex’s upcoming wedding, and share with her my newest journey as a stay at home mom. I wanted her.

Mom and Matthew, 3 months old

This week, we’re getting ready for our yearly trip to Arizona. Both boys are old enough now to swim with my Uncle Rick, and both are eager to spend time playing with their Uncle Alex. Once again, my Aunt Nancy will fill her pantry with apple juice and cookies for the boys, and ice cream and chardonnay for me. My Aunt Martha is planning pedicures for the aunts and girl cousins, who range in age from 14 to 40. I’ll spend the weekend making lots of joyful new Arizona memories with my mom’s family. But most of all, I’ll spend the weekend missing my mom. 

This story was originally posted as my first weekly entry as a contestant on Blogger Idol. To see the judges' comments, read it again here. And be sure to follow me on facebook and Twitter to find out about the next round of Blogger Idol, coming up this Wednesday!

They're Throwing Snowballs in Hell Right Now...

A few things are about to happen that I have to tell you about. Number 1, my hometown Cubbies are going to win next season’s World Series. Number 2, my 4-year-old son is going to stop screaming “VAGINA!” 18 times a day at random intervals. And, Number 3, my 2-year-old son is going to start sleeping through the night, every single night, for the rest of his life.

All of these things are definitely going to happen…because Hell has officially frozen over.

How do I know this? Well, I’m going off of what has happened to my little ole blog over the past week.

The BIG news, and the event that really sent Satan running to Nordstroms for new Uggs, is this:

I WAS PICKED AS A FINALIST IN BLOGGER IDOL 2012!!!!!

Yep, that whole thing I posted a few weeks ago about channeling my Inner Rockstar and reaching for new heights with my writing and making out with Bono…

Wait, what?

Sorry. Bono fantasy distracted me again.

Anyway, all that stuff I wrote for my Blogger Idol audition obviously fooled, I mean impressed, those judges, because they picked me (and 12 others—see below) out of 167 auditions to compete for a MONSTER HUGE basket of chocolate. (Yeah, there are other prizes, too, and some really cool ones, but I can only focus on the chocolate. Check out the Blogger Idol website to see what else there is to win.)

So, as soon as I finish bragging about myself here, I’m off to write my first assignment post of the competition. And come Wednesday, I’ll be all over facebook and twitter begging you to haul ass over to their website to vote for me.

Because I really want that chocolate.

But, believe it or not, THAT’S NOT ALL!

Remember me?

Earlier this week I received an email from my favorite online magazine for moms, BonBon Break. And guess what? They want to feature my RabidRaccoon/Deadly Spider/Chupacabra post in one of their upcoming issues! You should check them out—they’ve always got a ton of great stuff over there and I’m honored that they want to include me. I’ll let you know when my post goes live.

So, all of that is pretty exciting and unbelievable right? BUT THERE’S EVEN MORE!

My friend Andi-Roo at http://www.theworld4realz.com nominated me for the Liebster Award! The Liebster Award is granted to up and coming bloggers with fewer than 200 followers who deserve some recognition and support to keep on blogging. And she picked me! (Well, she picked 11 people, but I was one of them!)

The Liebster Award comes with a few rules, which I am going to bend. But I can do that, because I am a Blogger Idol 2012 finalist. WE MAKE OUR OWN RULES!

Ahem.

Anyway, when you are nominated, you are then expected to nominate 11 other bloggers who you feel deserve the recognition. Then you have to answer 11 questions from the person who nominated you, and ask 11 new questions of the bloggers you nominated.

But, did I mention that I’m a Blogger Idol 2012 finalist? I have stuff to do, people. There’s a huge-ass basket of chocolate on the line. So with apologies to Andi-Roo, instead of nominating 11 blogs I’m going to point you toward the other 12 Blogger Idol 2012 finalists. There’s some scary-good writing on these blogs, and you should go read them and then NOT tell me about it because I am still working under the delusion that the basket o’ chocolate could be mine. And, because I know the pressure they are now under as Blogger Idol 2012 finalists (oh, yeah, did I mention I’m one too?), I am not going to give them new questions to answer.

So, here are the official 13 Blogger Idol 2012 finalists:

1. Pile Of Babies
2. My Rad Dad
3. Crazed in the Kitchen—THAT’S ME, PEOPLE! ME!!!
4. The Real Matt Daddy
5. Forever 51
6. Martinis and Minivans
7. Dad And Buried
8. The Mother Freaking Princess
9. Crazy Dumbsaint of the Mind

10. Edward Hotspur
11. Ice Scream Mama
12. Manderstanding
13. Random Thoughts n Lotsa Coffee

Now for my answers to Andi-Roo’s questions. Keepin’ it short but sweet here. Chocolate, remember?

You can have a half-hour conversation with anyone no longer living. Who do you choose? Why?

Definitely my mom. Because lately I’ve had this awesome latent memory come up of being 4 or 5 and eating graham crackers covered with some incredible peanut butter frosting. I’d really like to get that recipe. (There are other reasons I’d like to talk to her, of course, but that one is really bugging me these days.)

You can have a half-hour conversation with any fictional character. Who do you choose? Why?

Scarlett O’Hara. The end of Gone With the Wind haunts me to this day. I’d ask her what happened next.

Of these four characters, which do you most resemble in your own life?

— The Protagonist (Shit just happens when you’re around.): Dorothy / Harry Potter

— The Brains (You think of ways to avoid / escape the shit.): Scarecrow / Hermione Granger

— The Heart (Everyone loves you when the shit hits the fan.): Tin Woodman / Ron Weasley

— The Hero (“Who’s a coward now that shit just got REAL, bitches?”): Cowardly Lion / Neville Longbottom

Definitely The Protagonist. But mostly because I’ve always wanted to be Dorothy.

What made you choose your current Twitter avi?

Um, ‘cause it’s the best picture of me I could find, and I look way cuter in it than I usually do in real life. Duh. 

What’s your blood type? Just kidding. Trick question. Now go pee in a cup. I’M JOKING. Gosh, why so freaking serious? For realz this time: Are you down with True Blood?

Nope. My vampire love begins and ends with Twilight.  

How many pairs of shoes do you have? Don’t lie. It’s good to feel the shame. Let it burn.

It’s more embarrassing to admit that I only have like 6 right now. And 4 of them are sneakers. Pregnancy was not kind to my feet. When I go back to work I’ll have to buy some “normal” shoes, I guess.

Pushpins? Or dry erase markers?

Pushpins.

You’re throwing darts at your favorite local pub. Your choice: Are you tossing at a corkboard or one of those plastic mechanical pieces of crap?

HA HA HA HA HA HA “favorite local pub.” I have 2 kids and no life. But if you came to my house and installed a dartboard, I guess I’d have to say corkboard.

How often do you utilize your local library? What materials do you check out? Books, CDs, books on CD, DVDs… some even carry video games…

The kids and I go almost weekly. We mostly check out kids’ books about trucks and space and volcanoes.

Be honest: Did you, or did you not, read and adore “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” by Judy Blume? Best book EV.ER, #AmIRight ? Is there a male equivalent, anyone? #AskingForAFriend

I was an over-achiever at reading and read that book when I was in second grade. I had NO IDEA what this period thing was, so I asked my mom and then the whole book made a lot more sense.

Chinese or Mexican? I know, it’s a toss-up. CHOOSE. My dinner might just depend upon your answer.

Chinese. Unless it’s Mexican. Blogger Idol 2012 finalists are allowed to be fickle like that. And it doesn’t really matter, because all I want to eat is CHOCOLATE!!!

Why I Won't Be Doing My Family's Laundry Any More

Not long ago, I informed my family that I would no longer be doing their laundry.

No, this is not one of those Lifetime Movie of the Week things about a disgruntled housewife who goes on strike against her ungrateful family. In fact, I don’t really mind being my family’s Head Washerwoman. It’s fairly easy and has immediate results—my kind of chore.

Nope, nope, nope.

However, I won’t be doing it any more.

You see, our washer and dryer are in the garage. The garage is attached to the house, but to get there you have to walk out of the house and about 10 feet through the backyard to the back door of the garage.

No problem, right?

Well, actually, there have always been two major problems with this set-up: Son 1 and Son 2. During the day, I have to leave them briefly unattended in the house if I want to do laundry. Thanks to Murphy’s Laws of Parenting, I know that even if I am gone for literally ONE FREAKIN’ MINUTE, that will be the time that they either try to fight each other to the death or that one of them will attempt to fly from the couch to the coffee table with disastrous results.

So let’s just say I have learned from experience that daytime laundry isn’t worth it.

That leaves laundry for the evening, after my rambunctious darlings have gone to bed. Until recently, this was no problem. I’d throw clothes in the washer, then settle down to watch The Bachelorette, er, PBS.

But then I realized that my backyard at night is a scary and dangerous place.

And so I can’t go out there after dark. Ever. Again.

I learned this a couple of weeks ago when I blithely headed out to do laundry. I heard a noise at the back of my (fairly small) yard, so I peered through the semi-darkness and saw a shape on the brick wall back there. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw it was a HUGE raccoon—like, the size of a golden retriever, at least. (MAYBE a large German Shepherd, even. He was big. BIG.) Anyway, he looked at me, arched his back, and let out a hiss that said, roughly translated, “I will eat you alive and then poop you out all over your laundry if you so much as look at me again.”

So that was the end of laundry for THAT night.

Contemporary legend? Or TOTALLY REAL??

The next night I stayed up late writing. At about midnight, a round of horrible screeching and screaming erupted right outside our front door. It sounded at first like cats, but as it went on it became clear that it was something else. I peeked out the door, but I couldn’t find the source. Eventually, the screaming evolved into enraged chattering that went on for over an hour.  I knew there was just one thing that could be making such a noise: a chupacabra.

OK, yes, I realize that a more rational answer would have been “a raccoon.” I had just seen one in the neighborhood, after all. But it was past midnight, dark and quiet, and my thoughts turned naturally toward this less-likely probability. As the chattering continued into its second hour, I became more concerned. I called animal control.

NO, I did not tell the nice lady who answered that there was a chupacabra outside my house. I may BE crazy, but I don’t like to APPEAR to be crazy. I explained the noise to her and she said, surprisingly, “Sounds like a raccoon to me.”

Ummmm…sure.

“Well,” I said, going with this absurd raccoon theory, “could it be injured? It’s making a lot of noise.”

“Is it in the street? Did it get hit by a car?” she asked.

The face of evil

“No,” I replied. “It’s definitely in a tree.”           

“Then it’s not injured,” she said. “Raccoons don’t get injured. They’re way too aggressive. They win every fight they’re in.”

STOP.

WHAT?

“Raccoons don’t get injured??? Like, ever???” I asked.

“Nope!” she answered cheerfully, before informing me that there was nothing she could do about the devil menacing my neighborhood.

This news about raccoons bothered me. I mean, I knew raccoons were mean garbage-eaters, but now I learn that they are actually INVINCIBLE, evil baby-killers? (<--That part is just me extrapolating from the information I have. Seems reasonable.) Nope. Never leaving the house after dark again.

I woke up my husband to inform him of this turn of events re: his dirty clothes, but I didn’t have to say much because just at that moment the raccoon/chupacabra ran screaming right under our bedroom window and over the fence into our backyard. Where it went from there, I don’t know, because I haven’t been out there since.

OK, that’s not wholly true. I did get desperate for clean clothes last night, so I snuck to the garage with my super-beam, heavy duty, could-beat-a-raccoon-off-of-me-if-not-actually-injure-it flashlight. Out of curiosity, I flashed it around the backyard to see what was out. No raccoons. No chupacabras. But the light did shine momentarily on what turned out to be a spider web in a corner. I went to check it out and what did I find? Not much. Nothing, in fact, except for A BIG BLACK WIDOW SPIDER conveniently hanging belly-side-up as if to say, “That’s right! Check out my red hourglass! Just like you’ve seen on Google late at night when you should be sleeping or doing laundry!” If spiders had fingers, this one would have been flipping me off.

Oh, look! A spider! I'll just go check it--aaaaarrrgggghh!

Well, half a can of Raid Flea and Tick Spray (it’s all we had) followed by a phone book squish-and-smear (you know what I mean), and I had taken care of that cheeky spider. But not before it screamed out in spiderese to all its friends and family about what I was doing. (<--Again, extrapolating.) So I think it’s fair to expect that they will all be out and coming to exact revenge on me each night at sunset, along with the super-raccoons.

Which is why I won’t be doing laundry ever again.

photo credit: nal from miami via photo pin cc photo credit: fingle via photo pin cc photo credit: EJP Photo via photo pin cc

Channeling My Inner Bono

I have always believed that if life were fair, your talent at something would match your enthusiasm for it. If you loved to knit, you’d be able to make gorgeous sweaters that fit perfectly. If you loved to play tennis, you’d serve aces every time. For me, it’s singing. I LOVE to sing. I sing in the car, I sing around the house, I sing to my boys. But I’m really not that good at it. At times, in fact, I’m pretty bad. And that’s not fair. Because I would love to be one of those people who jumps up on the stage at karaoke night and belts out some ‘80s rock anthem that brings the crowd to their feet. But I’m not. In fact, if I belted out anything at karaoke night, people would indeed be on their feet—to LEAVE.

But, despite my lack of singing talent, I think I may have found a way to be…

Wait for it…

A ROCKSTAR!

ALMOST as cute as my husband. Almost.

Yep, it’s true. And that’s because there’s an awesome group of really smart people who believe what many of us have know for years—that writers are the new rockstars. To prove it, they’re holding a competition for bloggers called Blogger Idol—and I’ve decided to channel my inner Bono and audition.

(Hmmm….turns out channeling your inner Bono just makes you want to stop what you’re doing and make out with yourself. I may have to pick another, less attractive, rockstar to channel if I want to get anything done around here.)

Anyway. You can check out their website here for more information, but the audition process is pretty simple: Tell about yourself and why you think you’re worthy of the title of Blogger Idol. This was tricky for me, as I’m not generally one to toot my own horn to strangers. But I gave it a go, and here is what I came up with:

My Blogger Idol Audition

I’ve earned a few titles since I temporarily left my teaching career to be a stay-at-home mom. “Nicest Mommy In the Whole Car,” “Best At Almost Always Getting Us to Swim Lessons On Time,” and “Vagina Person” are just a few of the lofty awards that have been bestowed upon me by the adoring masses, um, I mean, my two little boys.

So why would one already so decorated with honors pursue yet another—that of Blogger Idol? I guess I’m like the driver of the cherry red convertible Ferrari I saw the other day at a red light. As I gawked at the beauty that was his car, I noticed that he, too, was staring at something longingly. I followed his gaze to the next lane over and saw the object of his drooly desire—a sleek, gray Lotus. And I realized something: even Ferrari guys want more.

So, while I am obviously driving a Ferrari of Life with my enviable mom titles, my I-swear-these-are-yoga-pants-not-pajamas lifestyle, and my little ole blog (www.crazedinthekitchen.com), I’m eyeing the Lotus in the next lane. I’m ready to trade up.

I want to be the next Blogger Idol.

But, you might ask, aren’t you a mommy blogger? Isn’t that a little genre-specific—a bit like being a yodeler trying out for American Idol? I mean, sure, a yodeler can make some awesome yodeling sounds, but can she rock? Can she belt out a power ballad one week, a country-bluesy tune the next, and follow it all up with a kick-ass cover of “Hot Blooded” on Foreigner Night? (Note to Simon Cowell: There is not enough Foreigner on American Idol. Also, wow, I’m old. And not at all hip.)

Well, no, a yodeler probably couldn’t do all that. But I’m not just a yodeler, er, mommy blogger. Sure, I write about my kids sometimes, but I like to think that my strength lies in taking those everyday moments we all have and sharing them in an entertaining way. I make no effort to hide my imperfections as a mom and as a person, and I think that’s part of why people like my blog. And, I’m eager for opportunities to grow as a writer. If power ballads are my specialty, then it’s about time I branch out and try some country, or even, *gasp* yodeling. I’m pretty sure I’ll rock them all.

Thank you for your consideration.

So, there it is. I already sent it off, so if you don’t like it just go ahead and lie to me in the comments. As you know, I already lead a rich fantasy life, so that is no problem at all. The 12 finalists will be announced September 20, and I’ll let you know then if I made it. Meanwhile, stop by the Blogger Idol facebook page and tell them Molly/Bono from Crazed in the Kitchen sent you.

Now I’m off to finish this Google Image search of Bono pics. Yum.