This morning my toddler woke up with Kate Gosselin hair.

This was news to me because a) she didn't ask my permission, and b) I really loath that hair style.

She already has the mullet, I guess she figured, "Hey! What do I have to lose with a reverse mullet?!?"

The best part was that we didn't even have to spend hundreds of dollars trying to hook up with Kate Gosselin's stylist. We got the hair for FREE. Apparently, all you have to do is:

1. Take a bath before bedtime.

2. Thrash all around the bed while sleeping.

3. At some point, sprinkle some milk from a bottle onto your hair.

4. Roll around some more until morning.

Note to Self: Watch less Jon & Kate news coverage while the baby is around.

It's snowing.
AGAIN.
And I'm annoyed.
AGAIN.

Before the blah-blah-blah starts, I'm FULLY AWARE that I live in a state that is known for snow IN FEBRUARY. However, the recent rain and flooding had washed away much of the snow and tricked me into thinking Spring was coming. The big chunks of ice had even started melting in the water and I saw a couple of freighters sailing the seas again. A sure sign the snow and ice are going.

It's usually not a big deal. I love seasonal changes and even like snow.
To a point.
But, I'm just done.
I'm done being stuck in the house with a baby.
I'm done with boots and coats and melting snow all over my back entryway.
I'm done letting dogs out in freezing cold at 4 a.m.
I'm DONE.
(Did I mention, I'M DONE?)

It doesn't help that anytime it snows I have to listen to my Texas-born husband complain about how it was NEVER this cold where we used to live (it so was, he's just getting old and can't remember.)(OK, so what's a 20 degree difference some days?) The last time he complained about the cold I said, "HEY! We live here now, ZIP IT! I don't want to hear it anymore."

To make it worse? Pre-baby and pre-budgetary constraints, this is the time of year when Todd and I would hightail it outta here. Riiiiiight about now we'd be sipping yummy umbrella drinks. Perhaps here or here.

I'm blaming my recent downward spiral of snow-hating on reality television - Survivor in Brazil. I don't usually watch it, but I caught the first episode while folding laundry in my bedroom. (BECAUSE WHAT ELSE DO YOU DO AT NIGHT WHEN IT'S SNOWING?) I found myself thinking, "A 4-hour trek in the heat lugging loads of water and supplies doesn't sound THAT bad!"

Now THAT is messed up.
It's definitely cabin fever.

I'm a little late in following up to the British documentary to My Fake Baby. You'll have to excuse the tardiness, but there are a few things going on here.

I had a weird reaction to the fake baby documentary. I was completely insulted. I was insulted that they kept calling these women "expectant mothers" and these dolls "babies". Look, it might be overreacting, but I went through 8 months of very real illness - in and out of the hospital, non-stop "morning" sickness, gestational hypertension, and on & on. I went through 20 hours of VERY REAL labor. I slept sitting upright in a chair for the first 3 months of my baby's life so that she could find some comfort and sleep with her acid reflux. I held her little 6-week-old head into a head brace while she screamed at the top of her lungs so that they could do an upper GI scan to see if she had an obstruction and needed surgery. I think I've earned the right to be called "mother". I'm pretty sure these women paying $600 and up for a DOLL haven't.

Anyway...

The lives of these women were so ridiculous that Todd and I kept giving each other the What the... look about every 30 seconds.

Take the grandmother who kept talking about losing her grandson. The natural thought process was that the grandson had died. Sad. Very sad. It also made it a little more plausible that she might want a baby that looked like her grandson (crazy, yes, but also understandable). However, you find out later that her grandson just MOVED and he wasn't DEAD. In fact, she talks to him all the time via web cam. She has one of these "reborn" dolls made to look like him and then she shows the grandson over the web cam and says, "This is my new Eddie" (or whatever the kid's name was). NIIIIICE grandma. REAL NICE. Tell your 4-year-old grandson he's been replaced by a doll that looks like him. That won't cause any confusion/abandonment/love issues later in life AT ALL.

The best one was the woman named Sue. She had many of these reborn dolls that she's spent almost $45,000 on them.

FORTY FIVE THOUSAND.

DOLLARS.

She was getting ready to fly to America to pick up a new one - one that she paid around $2500 for (before designer clothes, accessories, plane tickets, expenses, etc.). She CLAIMS she knows the dolls aren't real and doesn't pretend they are. However, that didn't stop her from going to Harrods Department Store to buy Roberto Cavalli outfits and accessories for the doll.

This one made my head spin.

In case you didn't know, Roberto Cavalli is a very high-end ADULT designer who apparently suckers people rich people into buying super expensive clothes for their kids, too. For example, this Roberto Cavalli baby Tshirt is around $140:

I can't even imagine spending that on my kid, let alone a DOLL. Wait, I don't even spend that on MYSELF anymore, but this woman not only bought Cavalli clothes for this stupid doll, she also bought accessories to match.

Hey, there are starving kids all over, but whatever. Spend a few hundred dollars on designer clothes for a doll if you want. It's all on you to have to answer to later... (I mean, SERIOUSLY, what do people do for a living that they have this amount of disposable income to blow on BS like this?!?).

Digress...

So, this idiot freak woman comes to the U.S. to pick up her doll. When it arrives (all boxed up) to her hotel room, I so wanted it to be a Chucky Doll when she opened the box. It wasn't. It was a creepy reborn doll instead (ALMOST as scary as a Chucky Doll).

The best part? It cuts back to Sue all disappointed and the voiceover says, "After two days of bonding, Sue has found an imperfection" and she REFUSED TO KEEP THE DOLL. Sue relayed, "Look, she's still smiling, even though she's injured."

SHE'S STILL SMILING YOU DUMB*SS BECAUSE SHE'S A DOLL.

A. DOLL.

IN ROBERTO CAVALLI.

Look, I don't want to get all therapist-like on you, but these women are ill. Mentally ill. This goes way, way above and beyond being a collector. There's something else going on here. I would love to stay and dissect it with you, but I hear my REAL LIFE baby in that famous designer named TARGET calling. And she's smiling because SHE ACTUALLY HAS FACIAL MUSCLES and a mom that might be crazy, but not as crazy as these women.

And that makes me smile.

Note: If you want to read a good posting about this craziness, visit http://www.thefword.org.uk/blog/2008/01/my_fake_baby

It doesn't get much better than British television - for SO MANY REASONS - but especially for their apparent fascination for wankers weirdos freaks an interesting subculture of probably very nice people who live their lives with fake dolls.

I blogged about this previously in my Creepiest Thing Ever posting where people live with fake adult dolls as if they are real.
Read the posting.
And be very disturbed.

Now I find out (AGAIN from BBC)? People are living with FAKE BABIES and treating them like they're real. I'm pretty sure if they make fake babies that keep you up for 23.75 hours out of the day, poop a horrifying volume of green goo in a color not found on any artist's color palette, and projectile vomit like The Exorcist, it would cure any "need" these women have.

Anyway...

They are called "Reborn Dolls" (yeah, I know, right?) and there is really an entire subculture out there. This is creepy stuff (all the way down to the "reborn" name). Check it out:




Does anyone else feel like we are treading into some Arnold Schwarzenegger sci-fi territory? (And how creepy that they keep referring to them as "Reborns"?!?).

*shudder*

And people? It's way bigger then we can fathom. These FAKE BABY LOVERS (*no judgement*) have their own supply store. Hell, I can't even find the kind of organic baby food I want for a REAL BABY and these people have an entire website dedicated to their FAKE BABY?!?

Whatever.

Anyway, BBC is doing a documentary on it tomorrow night (Wednesday, October 1) at 10 p.m. (Eastern). Set your DVR/TiVo/Alarm Clock or whatever you need to do so that you don't miss this.

And then come back here.

'Cos you know I'll be blogging about it.

And there will be judgement.

I liked it so much better when cross-dressing and vampires and people who love Iggy Pop were the only subcultures.
*sigh*

There's a show on British television (shut up) called It's Me or the Dog: How to Have the Perfect Pet. The lady's name is Victoria Stilwell and she goes into homes where they are having dog problems and teaches the owners and the dogs some respect. It was another one of those up-all-night-with-Ella's-reflux-might-as-well-watch-TV finds. It's also informative. And (shockingly enough) entertaining.

Anyway, I've learned quite a bit. The most helpful being what to do when your dogs are barking. According to Victoria, when your dogs are barking you aren't supposed to yell their names. You are supposed to make a loud noise like, "ACK! ACK!" What this does is simulate a noise the doggie mother would make if the dogs were doing something wrong in the litter. And, guess what? IT WORKS. Which is fantastic news since my usual approach of INDY! ABBEY! INNNNDY! ABBBBBEY! INDY-ABBEY-INDY-ABBEY-INDY-ABBEY! HEEEEY! SHUUUUUT! UUUUUP! really wasn't working at all when my dogs were barking.

So now at my house, when the dogs are barking you will hear me do a brief, loud ACK! ACK! (Go ahead and laugh, everyone else does, including my parents. Thanks mom & dad!).

End of the story? Not quite. Remember, we have an almost 7 month old. A few days ago Ella started doing this low grunt-like thing that comes out, "GRR! GRR!" - almost a cross between clearing your throat and grunting. I knew immediately what she was doing. The first time Todd heard her he said (look of confusion), "What IS she DOING anyway?!?"

My response?

I laughed hysterically (like any good role model parent).

ACK! ACK!

I totally don't get the complete and utter devotion to American Idol.
*cough*my husband*cough*


I mean, it seems that after a certain age, devotion (er, obsession) to/with this kind of thing is, well, creepy.
*cough*my husband*cough*


Anyway...

My husband used to get mad at me because I never wanted to watch it. (Sorry I outed you, honey). It was just a little too cheesy for me (not to be confused with Chikeeze)...

Last year FOR THE FIRST TIME I watched some of the tryouts. They were amusing, but I eventually lost interest as the "popularity contest" went on. Same thing happened this year. I did make it pretty far this year, but only because Michael Johns and David Cook were such hotties (LOVED the "Cougars for Cook" sign in the audience a couple of weeks ago). But after Michael Johns got voted off, I (once again) completely lost interest unless David Cook was on.


Last night, I had Idol on while I was doing housework. Well, honestly? It was on because we were DVR-ing two things at once and you can't change the channel which is really stupid.

But, I digress.

Anyway, I must admit, I really enjoyed the David Cook/ZZ Top pairing. I would've preferred two hours straight - without moving - staring into the TV - of a David Cook concert (paired with other cool musicians). The rest? COMPETELY OVER-THE-TOP CHEESY. I mean, who else was creeped out by the "I'll be your father figure" group sing? *ew*.

And, don't even get me started on the semi-choreographed dancing...
I mean, did you see poor Brooke try to dance and sing at the same time? Egad. And what about that rocker chick who so obviously wanted to be anywhere but there? Speaking of which, how torturous of them (the producers) to make the LOSERS (helloooo big L?!?) stay on the rest of the contest only to perform on the last night to remind them what big losers they are? It's all too weird for me (not to mention, I have NO INTEREST in trying to watch 16 year old David Archuletta trying to sing Neil Diamond. I mean, HELLLLOOOO, was he even born in time to know what "I will be your father figure" is all about?!?).


Anyway, SO GLAD that David Cook won. I'll really look forward to seeing, er hearing, more of him.


I can't believe I just wrote an entire blog post about American Idol.
I suck.

Wow.

Having a baby takes up some time.

A LOT of time.

I'm no idiot, I knew BEFORE the baby that babies take up a lot of time. I just had no idea how much time. Where the time goes during the day/night is completely mind boggling.

I own a bookstore, but there's no time for reading.

I freelance to make money, but there's no time to bid for jobs that I won't have time to work on anyway (despite the fact that we desperately need the money).

Answer personal emails? Sorry, it just ain't happenin' right now (nothing personal to any of you!).

Update my websites. I don't think so.

Work on my fiction mystery novel? I don't even remember what the file is named.

Write on my blog? HA!

I need to eat right and work out, but WHEN?

Heck, I just now had time to do this (almost 9 weeks after she was born):

OK, out of all fairness, I barely did any of this. Todd and my friend Marilynn painted. Todd put together all the stuff and organized the room. Heck, he even organized the clothing by months (yes, anal retentive is not the word(s) for my husband). I did place that cute green monkey on the little bench and put the diapers in that pink basket on the changing table...

WAIT! And I DID do this (the cute dots to match the bedding):

(notice how little is actually done?!? It'll probably still be that way when she says, "But MOM! I want my room to be *insert latest Hannah Montanna craze*!")

And, oh yeah, I did order that awesome bedding from online.

(Before I get hate mail about how she's not supposed to sleep with anything in her crib, let me just say SHE DOESN'T EVEN SLEEP IN THIS ROOM YET).

Know what I do have a lot of time to do?

WATCH T.V.! (something I barely did before the baby)

When you are up at all hours with an acid reflux baby who wants to be held A LOT, the only thing to do is watch T.V.

I'll save the details about the love affair I've developed with Anthony Bourdain for another post... (it's OK, my husband knows...)

Is it wrong that I just spent the entire Labor Day weekend unlaboring by watching reruns of Fox's reality TV show Paradise Hotel?

That's OK, right?
right?

RIGHT?!?!