Only a bored mother would make her child into a art project. I am one bored mother. Check out my attempt at Zachary Warhol art.

Only a mother would think her child could inspire Andy Warhol.

Do you remember your first birthday? Neither do I. But for some reason first birthday parties can be the biggest, most-over-the top occasions in a child’s life. All for a day they will never remember.

I thought we’d just have a family event for my son’s birthday. That includes some family, a few close friends, cake and beverages. For me, big parties give me a headache.

This is unlike my mother-in-law who loves to throw large gatherings and has napkins, plates, and special dishes for about every special occasion on the calendar. Did you know they make special plates for smoked salmon and asparagus? Oh, yes. She has them. But to her credit, her gatherings are very classy and would put Martha Stewart to shame. She rocks at throwing bridal showers: blue ribbon all the way.

I, on the other hand, think chips and salsa are good appetizers. At the last party I hosted the food options were brats or brats and we ran out at the party’s half-way point. I sent the birthday boy and his out-of-town guest out to fetch more. I’m not even Rachel Ray. Although, to my credit, I don’t claim I invented the recipe for Lil’ Smokey’s and BBQ (…Ms. Ray).

My son’s first birthday will involve 16 people, one large Cold Stone Creamery ice cream cake, lemonade and home video entertainment. That’s it. My invite was constructed in Photoshop and emailed to my guest five days (yes, only five days) before the event. Call me a slacker. I prefer the term: minimalist.

Above (Mark and Zach in happier times: ie, pre-molar.)

Zach has been miserable lately. We have no concrete proof, but we suspect he’s getting his molars. We took him to the doctor to make sure it wasn’t an ear infection and we were told he was fine (ear wise) and that he might be teething and to give him Motrin. Meanwhile, there is literally no proof that he’s teething at all. Not one toothbud in site. Its very strange to me that one, unerrupted molar could change a happy toddler into a manic monster.

Luckily, I think we might have found the cure. He tried my electric toothbrush and held it on the suspected molar location and was happy. (Yes, I know, its gross to share a toothbrush. Talk to me when you’ve spend 48 hours with a screaming beast.)

On the way to be dropped off and Grandma and Grandpa’s house, my husband stopped at Safeway to get more Motrin. He also picked out a child-sized Sponge Bob Square Pants toothbrush for Zach. According to my husband his eyes lit up in wonderment and disbelief. “Is that really what I think it is?” His joy was uncontainable.

Later at Grandma and Grandpa’s with the toothbrush buzzing wildly in his mouth, Grandma dared to ask, “Did the doctor say this was okay?” My husband, relieved that the monster child had been tamed said, “I can’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t say it was okay.” Meaning: just go with it Grandma and your life will be so much better.

Who lives in his parents basement and is into all things geeky. This picture is something he’d find arousing. I, on the other hand, only find it amusing.

Not saying that I’m not a huge, huge nerd. This weekend I found some free voice changing software for gaming and played with it all weekend. So, because I’m such a geek I decided to give my alter ego a voice. Click on the samples below to see how I’d sound as my geeky, white-and-nerdy, male counterpart.

Fan boy

Parents basement

Star Wars rant

Because my husband loves to bash on all of my science fiction loves (Star Wars, X-Files, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter) I have decided to dedicate this triva to one of his favorite film franchises: James Bond.

Question #1: Which of these girls is not like the other?

Story: One of these Bond girls pictured from the movie For Your Eyes Only, was not always a girl. Can you tell which one had the sex change? (Kind of adds a new twist to the name “Octopussy”.)

For the answer: click here.

Bond question #2?

 Which actor who played James Bond asked John Travolta to dance with him? To which, John Travolta said, “Yes” and they danced man on man to a number? (That John Travolta has a repuation for “dancing” with both sexes.)

Find the answer here.

Now you’ll be forced to think about these “fun facts” while watching the Bond movies for the rest of your life.

Fifty-one weeks ago, I was not a happy camper. That’s because I was having “false” labor (who ever invented that term should be shot) and seriously hoping I would be delivering on time. (Ha, ha, that’s such a funny joke! On time! Oh, the hopes of the first time mother.) Pregnancy is such a shocker. Once you think you can’t possibly get any bigger, the last two weeks come around and you get much bigger. I felt like I was gaining 5 pounds a day. Who knows, maybe I was. Burger King was calling me by my christian name four times a day. 

A week from today my pregnancy ended and my life as a mother started. I wish I could say it started glamorously, but it didn’t. It felt more like post-traumatic stress syndrome than a warm, pink glowy aura. But, I can honestly say, that most of the worst is over. I’m a lot cleaner now. I get drooled on, spit up on, pooped and peed on much, much less now. I also get more of the precious, precious sleep. Also, my boobs no longer leak every 4 hours. That makes work much more enjoyable.

I did get a bit nostalgic when I ran across this picture in my old email. It was sent to me by my sister, whose daughter was born one month after my son’s birthday. In the picture, we were comparing profiles. Now all I see are two tiny babies. Of course now they are much bigger. They both are walking and talking and being amazing. I remember when were comparing these pictures we thought they’d never roll over. Time goes by in slow motion without sleep. (Below: Addie and Zach)

The B-Movie-type series, The X-Files, will spawn another movie!!

I love my geek crush, David Duchovny.

I was an avid viewer of the series until the last few seasons, I’m afraid. I just couldn’t get into that guy from Terminator 2. Plus, no one had any funny lines after Mulder left. I should probably record some of the reruns or rent the last couple of seasons to find out how it ended. That way I’ll be truly up to speed when the movie comes out and I can get my full “geekness” on.

My husband, the crusher of all my science fiction loves, said the reason why its happening now is that David Duchovny’s career is in the pooper. Its true. I’ve seen more of his wife, Tea, than him in recent years. Hey, at least he’s not trying to revive his “Red Shoe Diaries” series.

The truth is out there. A little music.

Some more Engrish that I found way too weird and funny. I kind of wish we had more weird signs around Denver like this.

Not to endorse the whole “whipped” married male stereotype, but I just “allowed” my husband to get a motorcycle. It looks like this one down here.

Of course, I knew it was unavoidable.

He had a bike once before and followed none of the safety rules. He never wore a helmet and then, like your grandmother’s self-fulfilling prophesy, he let his friend ride it and his friend wiped out. The accident wrecked the bike and scraped up his friend, leaving me to come home to a bloody, gauzed-up man in my bathroom. That’ll learn ya! Those motorcycles are nothing but trouble.

Now that I’ve agreed to let my husband ride a death rocket it will be another short-coming to my wifely duties, in his mother’s eyes. So far I fail at being a good wife by not buying him underwear and socks (his mother still does this), not washing his clothes for him and now, letting him ride a motorcycle. My goal is to be a wife to my husband, not a mother so the thought of chasing him around and threatening to spank him if he rides a motorcycle sounds unappealing. (Actually, he may disagree with the spanking part)

With the purchase of this motorcycle he has promised to wear his helmet and has taken a weekend-long safety class. Insurance is in place, he has his license and he found a bike within the budget. Since things have gone so well, why not let him go for it?

Of course it will be quite a while before I let him take our son for a ride. His parents said, “Just don’t tell us if you ever take Zachary for a ride.” They didn’t want to even hear about it. Because, after all, letting your child ride a motorcycle is very similar to child abuse. My husband suggested that maybe when Zach was ten, he would take him for a ride. I thought it should be a little older because indisputably, “Motorcycles have no seatbelts.”

But, just as things have changed in the five years since the first bike, things will probably change (for the better) in ten years. He’ll be a better rider, and hopefully a slower, more mellowed-with-age, rider. I can only hope. Of course, then he’ll have probably moved on to needing a sports car, a huge expensive boat, (despite being land-locked and lake-free) and some other toys that I’ll have to hum and haw over to justify.

I wonder if in ten years I’ll buy him underwear and wash his clothes?

Yahoo has this cute site that lets you make these cartoons. I was torn between picking the “plus” sized one or the normal one. Since its my fantasy cartoon, I picked the thinner one. Also in the fantasy cartoon, my son will actually wear and keep on hat on his head. That’s a bigger stretch than me weighing a little less. Anyhow, its fun stuff.