Sunday, January 15, 2012

Go Golden or Go Home

Passing an evening by watching the Golden Globes.  This is, bar none, one of my favorite nights of the year.  I absolutely love sitting in my awesome chair, in my beat-up green critter pants and an oversized t-shirt, with my hand in a bag of gummy bears/M&Ms/Reese's peanut butter cups while I oooh and ahhh over the pretty frocks and sparkly jewelry.  What I love even more is tearing apart the "WTF" dresses and deluding myself into believing that I would have shown better on the red carpet.  I had such a proud parental moment last year when Little M announced that January Jones's red band-aid/couture dress was tacky.   Google it.  The girl was right.  It was tacky.

Just a quick shout-out in honor of the critter pants.  I bought them when I was pregnant with Little M, and they were too big even when I resembled a double-wide load.  They're flannel and faded and frayed at the bottom and have skiing polar bears on them and I can't walk three paces without them falling off.  None of these factors makes the slightest dent in my admiration.  I love these pants.

In any event, I love watching awards shows-  staring at the beautiful women and pretending to be a princess for a night, all while still being able to eat actual food at regular intervals.  As a side note, I love reading articles where actresses claim to stay so thin because they actually love a steady diet of steamed vegetables.  C'mon now.  Just once, I'd like to read an article where an actress credits cocaine and bulimia for their figure, or where they just publicly acknowledge that they've been hungry since 1992.   A little honesty, people.  I love oreos and snickers bars, which is why I own Spanx.  Being completely honest,  outside of my wishes for an extraordinary life for Little M, my single biggest wish is that I could eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and however much I want without getting fat.

Hopefully, the Golden Globes will overcompensate for a dismal football weekend, where I went 0-for-3 on games I actually cared about and Baltimore won.  Go Ravens.

It was a great weekend of new experiences.  We took  Little M to see her first movie, and in 3D to boot. She was underwhelmed by Beauty and the Beast, but highly impressed by the bucket of popcorn that was roughly two-thirds her size.  I watched my little girl for 90 minutes, marveling at how quickly she's grown and how she might just be the most exquisite little girl ever born.  Not that I'm biased or anything.

Today, we packed up the car as if we were going on a cross-country trip to drive two hours and take Little M on her first snow-tubing adventure.   My public service announcement to you all is that when it's 18 degrees and windy at the base of the mountain, it's cold as f at the top.  Little M was bundled like the little brother (Randy, I think his name was) in A Christmas Story and feeling no pain.  As for me, I am just now regaining feeling in my lower extremities.  In any case, I am so proud of my little speed demon and cannot wait to get her on skis.   Little M is also the only person alive who can convince me that bursting into spontaneous dance in a ski-lodge cafeteria is a good idea.  To everyone else at Blue Mountain who had to witness my dancing, my deepest apologies.

I also had an interesting dialogue about first loves, the resultant first heartaches, and what parents can do to shield their kids from life's disappointments. On one hand, I want to keep Little M in a bubble where her heart is never broken, her spirit is never crushed and she never feels the sting of bitter disappointment.  On the other hand, I realize that such shielding would only preclude her from experiencing the moments in life that are most likely to define her strength and refine her character.  She has the right to make her own mistakes, and to learn from those mistakes.  Speaking from personal experience, I'd hate to see the person I'd be today if not for the moments I'd rather forget.  I need to remember that my role is to be her parent--not her gatekeeper--and my job is to make sure that she grows up to be a thoughtful, well-adjusted adult who can takes life's beatings in stride- and to secretly shove my foot up the ass of anyone who breaks her heart.  Yup- that sounds like a win-win to me.  Little M can learn life's lessons-- and I can get medieval on someone's ass.

Self tanner is a privilege and not a right,

Little Miss Sunshine

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