Mayhem and Moxie

An Open Letter To My Friends at HGTV

admin — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 06:36:34 +0000

Dear HGTV,

First of all, let me tell you what a huge fan I am of your channel. I recently read the press release announcing your partnership with Heather Armstrong of Dooce and your show, Design Happens.

While I am thrilled and looking forward to seeing what Mrs. Armstrong will bring to the show, I thought I’d pitch you an idea that came to me while ordering my family some takeout.

Good Enough would be focused on two modern day mothers who juggle the demands of raising children without going insane.

The Kick Ass Hosts of Good Enough

These women keep their home just tidy enough, their men happy enough, and their kids smart enough. We may not always be green, eat organic, and keep a spotless bathroom, but we get dinner on the table, our kids’ teeth brushed, and their hair washed (at least twice a week).

While I realize there is a strong market for the Martha Stewarts of the world, I know there is an even bigger market for moms (and dads) who just get by and that’s good enough.

Some possible show topics could include:

Planning A Dinner Party – Text your friends, last person to respond hosts the dinner, everyone brings something to eat. Voila! Done.

Kids’ Birthday Party – Scavenger hunt theme, no need to clean up the whole house. The first child to find your glasses, keys, flask, and latest US magazine wins a prize!

I sincerely look forward to hearing your thoughts and suggestions. While we may not draw the same numbers as the Dooce gal, I believe there is a niche audience that will surely be drawn to us.

Fondly,

Kacey

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Doing Blog Conferences Right: A Helpful Guide

admin — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 17:18:11 +0000

Over the weekend, I flew out to Baltimore for a blog conference known as Bloggy Boot Camp. After the one girl in the world who I wanted to meet wasn’t able to make it to Las Vegas last October, I figured I really had no choice. If I was going to stand next to Jill in real life and smell her hair, I had to get on a plane.

Jill's Hair: Kinda like what unicorns & rainbows & spring time all together smells like.

I motivated my pregnant self out of the house and flew 14 hours in three days. I am glad that I did too. Baltimore was great. Going to blog conferences renews my faith that the on-line community is not a group of freakishly scary men who have assumed women’s identities in order to befriend one another.

To prepare myself for the trip, I re-read Mama Kat’s Blog Conference Do’s and Don’ts post beforehand. I needed a checklist; a guide to show me the path to blog conference success.

I did my best to follow Mama Kat’s advice…

-Do check your expectations at the door.
Impossible for me to accomplish. I had expectations for everyone in my life. Happily, my expectations were exceeded. The women I met over the weekend were genuine, passionate about their blogs and their personal lives, and just as entertaining in real life as they are on-line.

-Do bring your computer.
Check. Considering I have a hard time going to the bathroom without my iPhone, I came prepared. Besides, how else could I have sent out such mind-blowing tweets during the conference?

Sitting next to @thenagainphoto at #BloggyBootCamp. We have the same HP computer. Pretty sure that makes us related. 10:28 AM Mar 6th via web

When I finally meet @ScaryMommy in person, I am guessing her first tweet will be, damn, Fran is so much cuter in person than I imagined, & not, she kinda looks like a man. 1:45 PM Mar 5th via web

-Do open yourself up.
I am fairly sure that I impressed hordes of strangers with my vast knowledge of everything useless. As a public service, here are a few of my conversation starters:

“Who saw the Shear Genius episode on Bravo where the contestants had to cut both the dogs’ and their owners’ hair? I tell you, that was television programming at its finest.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s so funny. When I was in prison the first time I…”
“I get so sick and tired of all these ‘nice’ people! Honestly! Be mean or something!”"
“You’re really wonderful. I don’t care what everyone else says about you.”
“How cute are you? You remind me of my grandma.”

People aren’t likely to forget me.

{I want you to know that I found that dog clip on video for you, Kristin. You’re welcome.}

-Do introduce yourself by name AND by blog…or twitter ID
I followed this one to the hilt. While everyone else brought business cards to pass out, I felt like I needed to stand out from the crowd. Plus, since Kacey wasn’t with me, I wanted people to feel like they were getting a sense of both writers behind Mayhem & Moxie.

So, for Kacey, I made 200 of the following:

Kacey On A Stick

Granted, my kids and I had to eat a ton of Popsicles, but it was totally worth it. I pasted a picture of Kacey next to a stuffed goat on all 200 sticks. To ensure people really got a sense of who she is, I included her home, work and cell phone numbers, home address, Twitter ID, Facebook URL, personal e-mail, and an array of little known facts about my friend.

It is almost like she was there.

-Bring Mama Kat gifts.
Quasi-fail. Although I did not have anything for Mama Kat to unwrap, I am hoping that she will be completely fulfilled by my willingness to declare that I was simply in Baltimore to act as her groupie. As an added bonus, I encouraged anyone who wanted to contact me to pick up one of Mama Kat’s business cards and find a link to my blog from hers.

Giving just comes naturally to me.

-Don’t worry about how fat you are.
This one was easy. I’m pregnant. As soon as I patted my belly a bit and talked about my delivery date, people just nodded and smiled. Fat rules don’t apply to pregnant people.

I have now decided that even if I am not pregnant at future conferences, I am going to stuff a pillow under my clothes and pretend like I am. Who wants to deal with worrying about their weight?

-Do blog about your experience.
Done.

-Francesca

Want more Bloggy Boot Camp? You can find pictures from last weekend here on Flickr, see the veins popping out of my neck at midnight on Saturday night here, and meet the girl who, when faced with my utter lack of ability to navigate to the airport using a map, still managed to like me. God bless Sara.

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Then and Now

admin — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 13:11:40 +0000

I have come to a realization.

It happened just the other day.

While putting away my kids’ toys, it dawned on me that I am not the girl I used to be. Gone is the 20-something career focused girl with hopes of securing a VP title in corporate America. She’s no more. In her place is a stay-at-home mom of two (soon three) children, who spends her days swearing at Caillou, making small talk with the checker at the grocery store in the hopes that he is as desperate for adult conversation as I am, and responding to incredibly gripping questions on Twitter, such as, what is your porn name?

(By the way, in case you are wondering, I’m Pepper Hopkins.)

Later this month, I will celebrate my 35^th birthday, and it kinda shocks the hell out of me. Where did my 20’s go? What happened to the nights when I watched the clock, not to calculate how much longer my kids will be awake, but to figure out when I would be home from work and be sitting down to my first cocktail?

My life is not what it used to be….

In my 20’s, I exercised. By God, yes, I did. More specifically, I had a pair of running shoes that I used regularly. Now? I see something like Sit and Be Fit advertised on TV and think, hot damn that is for me. Is it possible to not move and still be fit? Apparently it is, but only if you are retired, physically limited, or suffer from chronic pain. Whatev. I still ordered the video. I’m pretty sure that before long I will be able to take down anyone 65 or older who wants to mess with me.

In my 20’s, I was annoyed by parents who couldn’t control their kids and make them be quiet. Couldn’t they exert some sort of influence and manage the situation properly? Now? I know better. There are meltdowns and tantrums that cannot be kept in check, only ignored. I find it works best to simply use the path of least resistance and pretend that my children belong to someone else when they act ridiculous.

In my 20’s, I never appreciated the beauty of a long shower or a closed door to the bathroom. Now? I may as well live in a nudist colony. There isn’t a man, woman, or child in my immediate vicinity who hasn’t seen me naked.

(Maybe Pepper Hopkins has a future yet.)

The other day I came to realization that I am less ambitious, fatter, less clean, more sarcastic, louder, and lazier than I used to be.

On the other hand, I am laugh more often, am more relaxed, and maybe, just maybe, am finally able to appreciate life’s little moments as they happen, rather than continually thinking about what comes next.

I will never be the girl I was in my 20’s again. She is gone for good.

However, the girl that took her place has got a few things going for her.

And that seems like a pretty good trade off to me.

-Francesca

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Raindrops Keep Falling On My (&*#$ing) Head!

admin — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 06:51:55 +0000

Friends,

As you know, I’ve been sick the past few weeks. I’ve spent my weekends indoors, wrapped in blankets, barely moving from the fetal position on the couch. Yeah…it’s serious. My husband says I’m just being dramatic. However, my doctor has finally diagnosed me with terrible case of Preciparalysis (a.k.a. – “rainy day bluesies”). It’s a dire situation, and the only thing pulling me through this tough time is a blog I’m about to share with you. I’m fully aware that my sense of humor is not universal, but as my dying wish, I beg you to cut me some slack – try not to laugh at these images from failblog.org. I’ll let you figure out the theme of this highly entertaining website.

Seriously? No, seriously? It makes me sad, but at the same time, I can’t stop laughing. Is this what some politicians refer to as the “real America”? I’m thinking of stealing this idea for our next holiday card.

My suggestion for our school’s upcoming spring pictures.

Let this last photo be a warning to a certain someone who twitters for us, is utterly devoted to Mayhem & Moxie and will be with third child this August.

Thanks for letting me share this dreamy website with you all. It turns out laughter really is the best medicine, unless, of course, you have tuberculosis. But you know what? I do feel better. And gosh darn it, maybe I will get up, put hat on, and venture outside into the beautiful…oh yeah, it’s raining.

Why me?

-Kacey

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I’d Like To Teach the World to Sing

admin — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 23:45:46 +0000

Only I probably shouldn’t.

As Kacey can testify to, I like to think that I have a gift when it comes to music. Although I can’t hold a note to save my life, I consider myself a lyricist. Kinda like the long lost twin sister to Eminem, only minus the tattoos, I live in the suburbs and I don’t have my own record label. Other than that, we’re practically the same person.

There are a few songs that I have memorized, but most I make up as I go along. It is never a problem if I forget the words. I am the queen of improv.

My method works just fine too. And, with the exception of my husband, no one seems to mind.

Until now.

My son has been learning different songs at pre-school. Namely, Where is Thumbkin? Every kid in America knows the words to this song at one point or another…

Where is Thumbkin?
Where is Thumbkin?
Here I am!
Here I am!

How are you today, sir?
Very well, I thank you.
Run away.
Run away.

But do you know the names of the remaining fingers? They all have a different identity.

There is Pointer, Ring Man, and apparently, the little finger goes by either Small Man or Pinkie.

You might already know this. But, do you know the name of the largest, and arguably the most important, finger on your hand? I looked it up today on Google. It is Tall Man.

The take home lesson from this post is that its name is not Middle Finger Man, as I have taught my son.

I clued into the actual lyrics when I picked up my son at pre-school and he announced, “Look Mama, I’m giving Teacher the middle finger, just like you taught me in the song.”

Somehow explaining to Giancarlo’s teacher the “funny story” behind this incident and that my four year old wasn’t flipping her off didn’t come out quite right.

I settled on quickly explaining that five different names for five different fingers is a lot to remember. For both of us.

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Where’s the App for That?

admin — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 04:17:15 +0000

Confession: I used to be a PC girl. I made fun of those who gave into the Apple marketing, inevitably paying twice as much as they needed to for a computer. Even after I received my first iPod, I taunted the person helping me at the “genius bar” in their store. If it was such a great product, then why was there always such a long wait to get help with repairs? Are that many broken?” (Note to self: Do not taunt the “genius worker” until after he/she has fixed your iPod. For some reason, your name gets put to the end of the line.)

In any event, after my PC died within a year of purchase, my husband snidely suggested I try an Apple laptop and I haven’t looked backed since. Naturally, my next purchase was the iPhone. I LOVE this phone. Not only because it allows me to eat out in peace while Emi watches a Yo Gabba Gabba episode, but it also lets me check my e-mail on the go.

The main reason I adore this phone is for it’s applications or apps. Plain and simple, I’m an apps addict.

Emi loves Peekaboo Barn, Cute Math, and the interactive Wheels on the Bus. In fact, earlier this year, I forgot to pack Emi’s sound machine and within minutes I found an app on my phone for free. Needless to say, everyone got their sleep that night!

However, being an apps expert, I feel it’s my duty to suggest some new ideas. Here are my top apps wish list:

1. Danger Alert Status: I appreciate that the government issued color signals to alert us as to the terrorist threat level – it lets us know if we should be moderately terrified to go about our daily business or just mildly terrified to go about our daily business. I’d love an app to forewarn me of the likelihood and degree of danger for Emi as she attempts new feats of strength on the playground. She consistently overestimates her physical capabilities, and yet detests any shadowing I do, let alone assistance I offer. Go away Mommy, she’ll say, as I hover over her like an LAPD chopper.

A few examples of what I have envisioned:

Yellow Alert – She’s on the three foot slide, potential bruise and whimpering.

Red Alert – Climbing the jungle tower while trying to eat a pretzel!

2. Baby book: Who in the hell has time for a baby book anymore? Give me an app that let’s me check off a milestone and records the day and then magically uploads all the information into a baby book. Emi eats paste…check.

3. Silencer: To be used anytime your child is throwing a tantrum or your husband is telling you about the latest NBA trade.

If anyone has any connections to Apple, feel free to send my ideas. I only ask for 10% of the final profits they make from by ideas. I’d also settle for an iPad.

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Cleaning Remedy

admin — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 20:04:06 +0000

Have you seen the show Hoarders on the A&E channel? Each episode follows two people with hoarding issues. And the word “issues” here doesn’t come close to doing it justice. Typically, it appears as if a giant scooped up their homes, inserted large quantities of dirt and old food, and then vigorously shook it upside-down before setting it back in its place. Their hoarding is so out of control that a family intervention ensues often because they’re on the brink of having their children removed by CPS. And yet these people typically remain in denial about their problem being a “serious” problem. They frequently argue that it’s a lifestyle choice. Episodes usually end with a cleaner house and a shrink that tries to resolve the root cause of the issue.

Obviously, these cases are extreme, but nonetheless, the homes are both fascinating and frightening to me. As I watch the show, I find myself looking around my own home. I notice stacks of “whatever” that we’ve ignored for weeks. One of the biggest drawbacks of living in a city is lack of space in our home. And after we had Emi, it quickly went downhill as we found ourselves drowning in baby goods. Our current home can go from clean to cluttered, literally, in a matter of minutes.

The show has scared me into keeping a more tidy home. It’s gotten to the point where I actually interfere with my daughter playing. While she’s taking out the Lego’s, I’m right behind her putting them back in the box. Same thing happens at reading time, I basically shadow her and while she takes a book out, I put the other one back in. To me, I feel like I’m saving myself from cleaning up later. To my husband, he feels as though I’m more worried about the cleaning process than enjoying the moment.

Lately, my husband has banned me from playing with Emi because he says it’s not playing. Obviously he has no concept of multitasking. Tyler comes from the school of make mess to the point of stepping over things and then clean it up all at one time. I’m more of a pick up as you go along type of gal. Tomato – tomahto, people.

Hoarders has changed us for the better. If you find yourself needing motivation to clean, tune in to an episode of Hoarders and you’ll find yourself happily dusting the blinds (the most evil of all chores).

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Signs that You Might Be an Angry Pregnant Lady

admin — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 19:43:51 +0000

I’d like to think that I am a pretty even tempered person, but something has been amiss lately. Maybe you could blame my outbursts on my raging hormones. Or maybe you could say that any patience I have is being depleted by my children. Whatever the case may be, my husband often returns home from work to bear the brunt of my tirades.

Does this sound familiar? Not sure? Let’s just say that if you find yourself having conversations like mine, then it may be time to face reality and accept that you too are an angry pregnant lady.

(Or maybe you are just angry and not pregnant. Either way.)

Scenario 1:

Well Meaning Husband: Wow! You are really starting to look pregnant. I love it. You’re beautiful.
Angry Wife: What are you talking about?!? I don’t look pregnant. What the hell is wrong with you? You must be blind. Look, I still fit into my jeans!!!

(Angry wife storms off into bathroom for the full effect, knowing perfectly well that her husband speaks the truth and she does look pregnant.)

Scenario 2:

Helpful Husband: Hey, Francesca, when you have a chance, could you please come downstairs and give me a hand with dinner? It is almost ready and I think the kids are pretty hungry.

(Angry wife ignores husband completely and does not respond. 10 minutes pass.)

Helpful Husband: Did you hear me?
Angry Wife: I’m here. My GAWD, I was in the bathroom!! Can’t I get one minute of peace and quiet? Just wait a sec!!
Helpful Husband: Well, it has been like 15 minutes since I first asked.
Angry Wife: It hasn’t been that long. And no one died.

Lucky for my husband, he only has about six more months of this appalling behavior to endure. After that, I’ll probably be crying all the time.

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ASK A DAD

admin — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 15:22:05 +0000

Dear Ask a Dad,

My daughter is having a very difficult time saying she is sorry. Case in point, this last week she hit me. While her father and I were asking her to say sorry she pretended she had a cough. I’m not kidding, she is two and actually pretended to cough to weasel out of an apology. She did come around and finally said she was sorry but it wasn’t on her own terms and by no means sincere. Any advice on how to help?

Fondly,

Tired in Toronto

PS: Where have you been?

Dear Tired in Toronto,

It sounds as though your daughter has inherited a very rare and special gift – and everyone knows that gifts are attained neither by nature nor nurture. Apostreemarts is a superhero-like brand of street smarts that is just now being exhibited by some children. It is marked by an acute ability to read and manipulate people. Your child’s gift will test your wits to a degree the world has never seen. Like a Grand Master of chess, she will quickly learn to play you fifteen moves ahead. You will permit her to do things you never thought you would and she will convince you that every decision was your idea. You will age at twice the rate, and what little sleep you get will be your only respite.

Here’s the good news. Even though this modern day gift will undoubtedly help dig you an early grave, her Apostreemarts should prove to be an invaluable asset for her during the imminent post-apocalyptic society. When the global dust cloud ushers in the new ice age and radiation destroys the fertility of all soil, those who survive will need to rely upon their ability to, guess what, read and manipulate other people.

Now that’s a comforting thought worthy of a bumper sticker.

Yours truly,

Ask-A-Dad

P.S. I do apologize for not posting an Ask-A-Dad for some time. I’ve been consumed by the redecoration of my grandfather’s bomb shelter. I didn’t care for the color pallet and it was devoid of feng shui.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

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I Believe I Can Fly

admin — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 16:12:30 +0000

I have a scar on my left knee. It is not as noticeable as it used to be, but it is still there.

I’m not even sure when it happened anymore, but I do remember how it came to be.

I was what I like to call an “imaginative” child. I believed in many things passionately: Santa Claus, that I would someday change the world, and marshmallows made everything in life better. I also believed I could fly.

It’s true. I was sure that if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough, then I would take flight. I even set out to prove my little theory one sunny day in our backyard. I climbed to the top of our deck and jumped down.

Shockingly, my Peter Pan and Tinkerbell moment never materialized. I simply ended up with a badly bloodied knee and a scar that would stay with me always. My self-confidence also suffered a temporary set-back.

I was reminded of this little event recently when my kids donned their superhero capes and started racing around our house, shouting that they were flying.

“Look, Mama, look.”

I guess sometimes things just don’t skip a generation.

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