You know, it’s not enough that plenty of perfectly good marriages are being ruined by lack of sleep, the demands of parenthood and juggling jobs and family life – but now vampires , emo chicks and werewolves are at it too?!

Yeah, it’s true. Know how I know? I read it in an article online and that makes it true, right? The article  said that there are thousands of women who were so obsessed with the TWILIGHT movies that they were neglecting their marriages and even their kids! They spend hours online obsessing about the characters, the production of the movies, even the actors and what they’re doing every minute of their lives.

And you thought Twilight was a story aimed at 14 year-old girls who recently acquired their breasts. I thought so too when I read the first book and saw the first movie, which I’ll admit, is as far as I got.  I mean, wow.  Having read the poetry that is Interview With The Vampire this was NOT my cup of blood.  

But I got it. It wasn’t meant to be great literature. It was clear to me that the appeal of these stories was the whole “forbidden sex” thing. The “danger of sex” thing. The first book was a long – and I mean very long – series of, well,  longing scenes, one after another after another. In fact, I kept wondering, “When is something going to happen?!” And then I realized, when you’re a teenage girl on the verge of her sexual awakening, nothing’s SUPPOSED to happen. Not if your parents and school counselors can help it. Sex is a scary thing, a dangerous thing. Especially in this day and age when it can actually kill you. Also, according to your friends, it hurts really, really badly the first time.

And while Stephenie Meyer may not know story structure if it impaled her through the heart, she knows that young girls have eternally been attracted to the bad boy and forbidden love.

Apparently, however, they aren’t the only ones. Because then I heard some of my mommy friends going on about these books. We’re talking women in their 30s and 40s. Women with husbands who, as evidenced by the existence of children, had already lost their virginity.  And lo and behold, they too had gotten wrapped up in the phenom that is Twilight. They talked about Team Edward vs.  Team Jacob. They giggled about Robert Pattinson’s brooding hotness. They marveled at the pecs of an underage Taylor Lautner. And somehow, I think they identified with the disaffected Bella who, if you ask me, seems like a closet cutter.

But at least none of my mommy friends have reached the frenzied point of the TwiHards who are neglecting their marriages and their children. But here’s what one such woman had to say in an L.A. Times article on the subject:

“My husband finally came to me and said, ‘I think you love Twilight more than you love me,’” says Johnson, who had become especially attached to the community she’d found online. “I ended up moving out of the house and fought for my marriage for six weeks. I had to take a step back and detox myself from Twilight. I was really angry that I had allowed it to suck me in.”

That’s what vampires do, right? Suck. Especially the ones in these books. But then, that’s my opinion. And clearly I am in the minority here.

Still, I’ve got to wonder if these women weren’t already having problems in their marriage. Maybe they are just  finding something in these stories that is fulfilling some need that isn’t getting met at home. And really, is this obsession any different than, say, the one that sucks in so many men during fantasy football season?

The bottom line is, all our marriages would be better served if we spent more time tending them instead of sitting in front of a computer screen obsessing about the lives of other people.

Uh, on that note…. Signing off to call Randy the perfekt husband who is on his daily long commute to his job so that Julia can grow up in a nice house on a clean street filled with loads of kids in the suburbs. I love you, honey. Yes, more than my computer.

I gotta hand it to Walmart. Despite all the bad press they get for doing things like forcing their employees to work through their breaks and making them vote for candidates the company supports, they DO take their ROLLBACKS seriously.

Case in point, just the other day a couple of WOMEN SHOPPERS at a Walmart in Salinas, California were offered a 6 month old baby for $25 dollars! Yeah, you read that right. And I know what you’re thinking. WHAT A BARGAIN, right?  I mean, adopting a baby nowadays costs at least $25,000 –  $45,000 if you buy it on the black market.

Get this. The women turned the baby down!  I KNOW! Crazy, huh? I mean $25 dollars for a perfectly good baby – WITHOUT the hassle of stretchmarks, labor pains or plugged ducts?!

But they were honorable women and knew that there was something wrong with the scenario given that the baby was just too cheap and that the seller said he was its father. Yeah, that’s right. The baby’s FATHER!

Why would a father sell his baby and how on earth did he arrive at this amount? If you guessed that is was EXACTLY the going rate for enough low grade meth to provide a quick but dirty high, you’d be right.

The women called police and the police went to the guy’s house where they arrested him and the BABY’S MAMMA (pictured right). Yes, you can tell by her lovely complexion that she, too, likes her some crystal meth.  And guess what, she gave her baby a taste for it too, because she was breastfeeding while she was high. Lovely.  The baby is in protective custody. 

Okay. Technically Walmart can’t be blamed or take the credit for this amazing baby discount. Because technically, it happened OUTSIDE the Walmart. And the salesperson wasn’t an AARP member wearing a blue vest. But you gotta admit, it’s further proof that  Walmart’s the place to go if you want the absolute cheapest prices on ANYTHING!  

Know what else it’s further proof of? That most some people SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO HAVE CHILDREN!

I sincerely hope that baby gets the chance it deserves. Although the deck is pretty stacked against it. Sigh.

Okay that’s all I have to say. I’ll spare you my RANT on forced sterilization because, you know, it’s not PC. And I can’t deal with hate emails today.  Today, not a good day.

Just love your children. They’re a gift. Enjoy every moment you have with them because it goes by so quickly.

I LOVE YOU JULIA! With all my heart.

I was going to do a post today about the hidden horrors of orthodontia…to the parent. However, my attention has been drawn to yet another horrific example that has popped up this week of bad parenting.

I don’t know if you’ve seen this video that’s going around of the 2 year-old INDONESIAN BOY with a 2 pack a day smoking habit, but if you haven’t you should take a gander.

WHAT THE WHAT THE?!!!!!

I mean, did you see that kid? The leather jacket, the way he flicks that cigarette around. What is he? The reincarnation of Charles Bukowski or something? The last time I’ve seen that kind of behavior  it was 50ish and sitting next to me at a blackjack table in Vegas.

And the toddler lights his own cigarettes. Julia’s 8 and I still won’t let her handle fire! I’m pretty sure Child Protective Services would be against it too. Apparently they don’t have that agency where this kid lives.

And his dad thinks he’s healthy?! Is he kidding? If the lung cancer doesn’t get the kid, the obesity will. And the whole thing about the dad not being able to take the cigarettes from him because he’s pitches a terrible tantrum. Well, I DO remember the nightmare it was taking the bottle away from Julia. Yikes! Toddlers CAN be terrifying. BUT YOU’RE THE PARENT! TAKE SOME FREAKING RESPONSIBILITY!

Then again, maybe the cigarette smoking is the least of the kid’s problems. Because if you look closely at the end of the video when he’s settling down for his afternoon nap with his ba-ba after a long morning of chain smoking – I’m pretty sure that’s a GUN that other little kid is waving around his head.

What a tragedy. What idiot parents.

Well, next time you’re being eaten away by rot-gut guilt over the fact that your kid didn’t eat a green veggie all day, or that you’re two weeks behind on their annual well child checkup, remember that at least you’re not spending their college education on cigarettes … for them! And at least that  checkup won’t have to include a chest X-ray screening for lung cancer.

First let me say that I’m glad this ended well. And by well I mean a rescue mission that cost somebody (probably me and you) millions of dollars instead of a recovery mission that cost somebody (probably me and you) millions of dollars AND ended up with the loss of a young girl’s life.

If you haven’t been following the news, Southern California teen Abby Sunderland (16) was on a solo trip to sail around the world (i.e., break the world’s record which her brother held until some foreign chick took it away from him thus ticking her parents off). And well, she went missing when she lost radio contact in a really bad storm on the Indian Ocean four hundred miles from the nearest land.

ARE YOU FREAKIN’ KIDDING ME?! My kid Julia’s going to be lucky if I let her drive down to the 7-Eleven to grab a Slushee by herself let alone go out on the open ocean for months alone in a boat. In fact, I can guarantee she will definitely not be allowed to get the  slushee. That thing’s nothing but sugar and crap.

But a kid, on a boat, in the middle of an ocean. I just want to say SHAME ON HER PARENTS.

Sure I’m like the next proud parent.  I want my kid to excel and succeed and stand out in the crowd. But you know what’s more important? Seeing them live into adulthood and realize their full potential as human beings and, yes, give me grandkids I can spoil with those ice cream bars with chocolate and nuts on them (provided they don’t have nut allergies which, who knows these days).

I mean seriously, it is a parent’s job to JUST SAY NO! At least until a kid is of legal (and hopefully mature) age to make decisions about their own life.

You cannot tell me that Abby at 16 has the maturity to decide to risk her life on such an endeavor. I mean, think about it. When you were 16 how in touch with the realities of the world were you? Didn’t you feel immortal, invincible, like you were gonna live forever? Yes, I’m saying she did not have the proper (and healthy) amount of fear and caution to weigh the risks. Therefore, it was her parents’ job to do it for her.

But NOOOOOO. They wanted to let their kid ” go for her dream”. And whose dream really was it? And where did she get that dream? I mean, apparently they let her take this trip during the worst weather time of the year on the Indian Ocean (winter storm season). Know why? Because if she didn’t, she would have turned 17 in a couple of months and not broken the record.

THAT IS  INSANITY! I’m sorry. Actually, I’m not sorry. I’m MAD! Because parents need to treasure and protect their children. And if that means hiring a prom bus to make sure they don’t get into any hanky panky or dangerous situations on prom night, YOU DO IT! Actually the prom bus was an idea that came to Randy the perfekt husband in a dream just after Julia was born. And, much to her one-day dismay, he’s sticking to it.

I’m really hoping that Abby and more importantly, her parents, have learned a lesson from this.  But why do I have this nagging feeling that we haven’t seen the last of Abby’s Adventures on the High Seas.

Where’s Child Protective Services when you need them?

I try not to judge other parents. The key word is “try”. Because sometimes, I’ll admit it, I do. Case in point, this show on TLC called TODDLERS AND TIARAS. It’s all about the world of little girl beauty pageants. Yep, that whole JonBenet Ramsey creepiness still lives and it has it’s own TV show.

I watched this clip and it made me rethink everything I know as a mother regarding my daughter’s behavior. In fact, if I compare any episode of Julia’s discomfiture (explicable or inexplciable) it doesn’t come near the horrific brattiness of the kid in this video.

But I don’t blame her. Because I can assure you, she did not learn that attitude from watching DORA. No siree. That comes from listening to the adults around you. AND from them allowing you to get away with acting like a little diva from hell.

Suddenly Lindsay Lohan seems like a dream child.

OMG. If that was my kid. Well, it wouldn’t be, I’ll tell you that. I may be a bit on the soft side as a mom, but I would NEVER  let my kid get away with talking to me like that.

Then again, is it really the kid’s fault? I mean, her mother is pushing her into this whole pageant thing. She’s creating her own little Frankendiva.

All I can say is BAD MOMMY. BAD!

Welcome to Mommy Confessions, where I confess my mommy sins for all to read in the hopes that it will make other mommies feel less guilty and/or lame about their failings in the area of mommyhood.

My Confession for Today:

I suck as a cook.

Okay, I have always sucked. That is no big news or secret. Especially amongst the members of our household who are reliant on me for nourishment.

I am not, nor have I ever been one of those women who can whip up a gourmet meal from the handful of items around the kitchen. And I HATE watching those shows on TV where they do that and make it seem so easy. They make me feel inadequate, even though I know that behind the scenes they have 20 people doing the prep work. I’m not instinctive that way. Or ever prepared enough.

I have wanted to try recipes, but I never seem to have the right ingredients or spices hanging around in my fridge or cupboard. And it REALLLY bugs me to have go out and buy an expensive bottle of spice only to use one teaspoon on a recipe I will probably never make again because it sucks because I am unable to focus for long enough to keep track of how many cups or ounces I have put in. Yeah, that’s right. I can’t even follow a recipe. I get really, really distracted when I cook. Probably because my heart is not in it. Or I’m missing the gene. Yeah, that’s it.

Pretty lame, huh? Well, it gets worse than that. And this is where the real confession comes in.

This last weekend Randy the Perfekt Husband accompanied me on a trip to Trader Joe’s. He rarely does this as I do most of the grocery shopping. But he does love him some Trader Joe’s. He feels about this place the way he does about Costco - like a kid in a candy store- because they have so many fun and interesting items.  And when he goes to either place we always end up buying a lot more stuff than we plan on.

Anyway, as we were going down the aisles at TJ’s he spots these overpriced stuffed chicken breasts. They were stuffed with some kind of fancy cheese and cranberries and ingredients I’m certain I don’t have anywhere in my house. You know, the kind of thing I could do at home for a lot cheaper if I had any clue or inclination – which I don’t.

Well, here they were, this overpriced pack of 2 fancy stuffed chicken breasts, and Randy said he thought those looked good. So I thought, what the heck. I’ll get them. It’s like making a gourmet meal without me making a gourmet meal. And all I had to do was bake them for 40 minutes or 165 degrees. I couldn’t screw that up, right?

WRONG!

So last night I go to make these lovely overpriced gourmet chicken breasts that someone else has done all the hard work on. I heat the oven, remove them from the packaging and put them in a shallow pan covered with aluminum foil per the instructions. I set the timer for 20 minutes. BEEP! I remove the foil and set the timer for another 20 minutes.

I’m feeling pretty proud of myself at this point because while this was going on I managed to whip up some whole wheat couscous (microwave instructions 3.5 minutes) and edamame (stove top 5 minutes). I’m thinking, my family’s going to be doing some gooooood eatin’ tonight.

BEEP! Chicken’s done. At this point I stick the thermometer we got for a wedding present and have never used (why not, as long as I was being uber domestic, right?) into one of the breasts. I watch the temp climb but it never gets past 140. What the what the? How can this be? I have followed the instructions to the letter. And I know for a fact that my oven runs hot so it can’t be a temperature issue.

Perplexed, I stuck a fork in one and started to turn it over. And that’s when I saw it .

A SHRIVELED, PARTIALLY MELTED PIECE OF PACKING PLASTIC!

You know what I’m talking about. Those little liners they put between meat and the styrofoam packaging. I’ve encountered them before, in packages of turkey or beef. Usually however, they are large and VISIBLE! Not squares smaller than the chicken breast under which they sit! Completely hidden from view! And yep, upon further investigation, there was one under each breast!

AAAAAGGGHHHH! I mean, how was I supposed to know they were there, sticking to the bottom of my overpriced piece of stuffed chicken?!

I know, I know. If I was a better, more experienced or even caring cook, I would have known. I would have at least known to look.

I felt like a total idiot. A complete and utter mommy moron in the kitchen. And the worst part was confessing it to my family who looked at me with word-filled eyes but who said ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! (Definitely the best way to go given my emotional state).

Naturally I couldn’t feed the chicken to my family. Not after all the articles I have read about toxins that are released from plastics into food when they’re heated. And then there was Randy’s proclamation “I’m not eating that!” which also greatly influenced my decision.

In the end, after a period of mourning during which I spent a little time with the breasts imagining the meal that could have been, I dumped them uncermoniously into the trash.

Yep, I threw out those breasts and threw some sausages on the grill (organic, no preservatives, natch!) and my poor family was deprived yet again of anything resembling a special meal.

And though it’s not in my nature, I’m trying to look at the bright side. Had I not decided to use a thermometer for the first time in my life, I might have assumed those breasts were done. I would have then scooped them onto plates and served them up, only discovering AFTER A MOUTHFUL, that there was an unwanted ingredient in them.

Then I would have felt lamer. Nah. I couldn’t have felt lamer. Just maybe more guilty. Yeah, that’s it. Guilty. From now on, I’m sticking to what I know. Boiling pasta noodles and heating sauce from a jar. You know, for my family’s sake. SIGH.

HOW ABOUT YOU? ANY EMBARRASSING MOMMY MOMENTS IN THE KITCHEN?