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Archive for May, 2007

Jordin Sparks vs. Blake Eeeewis

It just wouldn’t be right if the day of the biggest event in live television didn’t make an appearance on my blog. Obviously if I’d been a blogger when Buzz walked on the moon I would’ve told you my thoughts and feelings on that so why should this be much different? Well, besides the fact that I stopped caring who won many weeks ago. It’s sad when you actually give a hoo-ha who the guest host is and not so much a shit who’s left in the competition.

At this point I almost wish I treated Idol like I treat my TV step-child, The Bachelor. Go ahead and suck all you want, Bach, I will not be tuning into you until the final rose. Sure I care about you! I legally adopted you didn’t I? Quit whining. I used to watch all your episodes but I was disappointed every time. Somehow, I’m still slightly invested in whether the Bach is going to piss out and hand out a “promise” ring. Yeah, promise to pretend to acknowledge your existance until the show is over and then date the one (more like twelve) with the fake knockers from the show who were dumb as a spice rack.

Let me tell you, this plan worked out perfectly. I didn’t know either of the women at the final rose ceremony and watching the “hunky” bachelor was painful but at least the fucker got on one knee and proposed. Whether or not they’ll marry remains to be seen. I’m sure they won’t but I like the sack on a guy who agrees to go on a show about getting MARRIED and actually proposes.

So back to Idol. Can you feel the excitement in the air? Will the winner be Blake and his goat sounds or the ever grinning, perfectly decent, Jordin. Will Ryan’s hair have more highlights? How many highlights can you have before your hair just burns clean off? Clearly it will be Jordin. But I won’t be buying her CD.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on May 23, 2007 2:18 pmUncategorized5 comments  

I Don’t Care If You’re a Great Mom

I keep promising myself that I will post more often and then I see that days and days have gone by without a new word from me. Not that you’re obsessively checking to see if I’ve written…but if you have…that would be sooo cool. One of the problems I have with blogging too often is that while I’m writing a book, it’s tough to write about motherhood. So, yes, I write about other things as well because, obviously, there’s more to me than being a mom. But, then again, some of the more pressing thoughts, feeling and dilemmas I face have to do with parenting my child and reflecting on how I was parented.

Lately in the Blogosphere, there’s been this whole thing and we all know what I’m talking about so I won’t bother linking anywhere, where we moms are being told that blogging about your failings as a mother is ringing false – that we know we are good moms – I am mother hear me roar – and that spending too much time talking about our foibles is akin to calling ourselves fat. This was thought up by Girl’s Gone Child – one of my favorite bloggers, by the way, and I understand where she’s coming from but…

I have to politely disagree in part. Of course pretending we are flailing about helplesslessly does get a bit excessive, it doesn’t help anyone. We’re all doing the best we can. But, one of the things I like most about blogging and reading other people’s blogs is the honesty I find. I would hope that blogging about the times we fall extremely short in our efforts to be Mom of the Year would be the exception and not the rule, none-the-less, those are the posts that make me feel less alone in this vast uncharted territory we all call parenting. There are about a zillion ways to fuck up everyday and I believe we mothers and fathers feel this fear like a Greek chorus in our heads – a lot. And not just the neurotic freaks like me. It comes with the package.

Here’s my take on it. We should all be good parents and I’m sure most of us are. If you’re blogging about parenting you obviously give a shit about doing a decent job. You are interested in all things parenting. You want to know what slings your neighbor is using and who you can plan a cyber baby shower for and whether or not you should entrust a thirteen-year-old with the care of your toddler. Let’s face it, most likely you aren’t living in a trailer, shotgunning Pabst Blue , spanking the living shit out of your child’s rear end for daring to ask for another cookie. And if I’m wrong, I guess I haven’t come across your blog yet possibly called http://getmommatheswitch.blogspot.com.

Being a decent well meaning parent should be our baseline. Yes, we’re all good moms most of the time. We all want our babies to feel loved, nurtured, breastfed (until they’re 15) have high self esteem, learn their ABC’s (in Spanish, French and Italian) and always always always know how we love them so much we almost can’t breathe when we watch them sleep. How we sometimes have dreams we can’t find them, dreams so real we wake up in a cold sweat, tears running down our sleep deprived cheeks and walk around not feeling right for the rest of the day. Most of us would throw ourselves into traffic to protect them but first take them on an educational trip to the frog exhibit at the museum. Yes, this is the parenting 101 part. But what about the days where we don’t feel we’re living up to even the basics? Isn’t it cathartic to write THAT? Isn’t it cathartic to READ that?

I in no way find that blogging about falling short in our ideals to be like Kate Moss complaining her ass is too big. Or attending Weight Watchers when you weigh 120 pounds. It’s not false. It’s how we feel and it’s real. It’s as real as it gets because parenting brings on a new challenge every. single. day. No one day has passed since Elby’s been born that I didn’t question at least one decision I’ve made. I’m sorry I’m not as confident and brimming with what a wonderful job I’m doing. Yes there are certain days I bet other women would kill for my patience, my way with a Bernstein Bear Story, my attention span for an almost unintelligible four minute story about a rock. But that’s not funny nor highly relatable. So I don’t blog about those things.

This morning I took Elby to a concert at the most adorable retro guitar shop in Los Angeles, McCabes. She got to see her favorite “rock star” Gwendolyn and now she’s literally “been there got the t-shirt.” Her face while she watched and danced brought tears to my eyes and I probably had more fun than she had. But then we brought her home and what did I do? Immediately turned on the Backyardigans because I needed a break. Fine, you say. She had a great morning so why feel guilty about letting her watch some TV? I’ll tell you why. I’m sometimes afraid that turning on the TV is the easy way out. Maybe I could’ve let her color or turned on a CD and just let her hang out for awhile. But I wanted her distracted so I could get a few things done.

I’m not saying that makes me a bad parent. In fact, earlier I’d been basking in the good parent glow, but things can turn on a dime. And that’s why I write. And that’s why I read. To be honest, I don’t care what a fantastic parent you are. That’s not what I learn from. I learn from hearing your fears and insecurities. I learn from hearing about how you almost lost it and yelled “SHUT UP – PLEASE!!!” to your three-year-old. Or the time it wasn’t almost.

That’s how I feel bonded with you. That’s what keeps me reading you. Well that and humor. If you make me laugh I forgive all else. So maybe I should cancel my subscription to MS. Magazine? I would but unfortunately I only have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on May 20, 2007 8:19 pmUncategorized26 comments  

Mommybloggers Unite

Before I rant about a few things, I can’t believe how sweet Jenn Satterwhite of Mommy Needs Coffee and her band of mommybloggers are to “showcase” me on their blog today. Go check it out because it’s the first time I’ve ever felt popular!

Is your head spinning a little bit? Wish you were me? Me too. My life isn’t quite that glamorous. Oh, and I really don’t think I made Marsha from Sweatpantsmom whose blog I ADORE, add me to her blogroll. But, then again, my memory isn’t what it used to be. And truth be told, it does sound like something I’d do. I really couldn’t believe the nice things that women I respect had to say about me. I feel lucky to have this medium to express myself and intelligent women to read what I have to say and really “get me!” What a great feeling. If there’s one feeling I crave from men and women alike it’s just being understood.

Enough of that touchy feely bullshit. After last night’s AI, I’m just not in the mood. I have a horrible feeling that Blake will make it into the finale. How many more times can I say it, I don’t get it. The lips thing aside, he has a mediocre voice at best. On the other hand, I can’t see it being down to Chipmunk and the Sparkplug either. Chipmunk has an insanely great voice but her personality is pretty sass-challenged. Jordin is great. In fact, I think she should win and then immediately join the newest upstart group of Up Up With People! Bring your feel good message to the masses and charge them psycho amounts of money to yell “hey everyone SMILE.”

Why do I keep watching? Is it to learn something from Paula’s astute observations? I.E. “What Randy said. He really summed it up.” Or “You looked beautiful tonight” always shocking to see her get out a three syllable word. Good for you Paula.

I should probably marry Simon. Go right back to the abusive relationships of my past where I could comforably feel that I’m not enough and that he and his sarcasm are highly amusing and better than me. Then he can break up with me for a PA who stays til four am to make sure his coffee isn’t cold and when I scream and carry on he can say, “I’m sorry Stefanie, but you’re just too needy and not AI judge girlfriend material.

I will be watching tonight. But with a heavy heart. Wouldn’t it be great if Hugh Laurie sat in one night for Simon. Crossover promotion!

Meanwhile, I think my craziness has a lot to do with this being my third week without my trusty sitter who is on location in Ohio making a low budget movie. This is why it’s not wise to hire an actress when you live in LA. Sure most of them will never make it but you run the risk that your sitter is actually talented. Damn her and her “own life ambitions.” Do you think a dollar more an hour raise will change anything?

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on May 16, 2007 7:29 pmUncategorized6 comments  

Snapped!

So last night I had to try and ease the pain of losing Lakisha before Blake. Sure Kiki wasn’t going all the way – the poor girl never lived up to her potential – but Blake never had any potential. So, Jordin will win the whole thing and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t work up any more enthusiam for the show. All I can say is thank GOD for Snapped! Finally a show that caters to all my needs: women in peril, court cases, dramatic reinactments, crime, true stories and crazy ladies! The only thing that could possibly make this show better is if it was narrated by Bill Curtis – my American Justice boyfriend.

Previous favorite shows of mine have been AJ, Forensic Files, FBI Investigators, 48 Hour Mysteries the list goes on. But here’s what’s better about Snapped! They all wrap up in thirty minutes. Perfect for TiVo’ing seventeen of them and drifting off to sleep to the tune of insanity. Just a few tasty morsals but not nearly as involving of your mental capacities as say, an episode of Law & Order: SVU.

My husband’s been out of town this week so I’ve been chowing down on Snapped! and I just hope I haven’t watched all of them already. I guess I just love anything that’s based on a true story or better yet IS a true story. Shows like Lost are lost on me. Isn’t it just Survivor but fictionalized? I can’t watch Survivor without falling asleep since the first season so why would I want to watch the same thing just with mystical forces at work? I wouldn’t. Note to Fox, bring back Temptation Island! Now that was a show.

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on May 10, 2007 9:43 pmUncategorized3 comments  

Is It Just Me Or Is Barry Gibb Sexy?

The man is an icon. Some might say I’m twenty years too late to hop on the Barry Gibb bandwagon but I disagree. I loved the Bee Gees back in the day. I may have only been in the sixth grade when the Bee Gees put out New York City Mining Disaster but you’d have to be on another planet not to have been affected by this song. Of course I owned and played the shit out of my Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and went on to buy and love many future Bee Gees albums and 45’s. But I never felt anything for the Brothers Gibb that was more than platonic.

But last night watching American Idol, all that changed. Dammit, Barry is sexy. His voice, his hair, his talent and all those years of experience have turned him into quite the package. Gone are the 28 inch waist white satin pants and in their place is a hip but much more distinguished look – more of a bearded, blue jeaned casual confident producer.

So, Barry, let’s have coffee. I’m married and have a 2 year-old but we could hang out and gossip. We could talk about how Blake sucks and how great Jordin Sparks is and how much we want to want Lakisha to still win but how our love for her is so tough to sustain. Sure, we love Melinda but do we let our love of her voice get in the way of our sure knowledge that Jordin would get the most out of winning the show? Barry, I would place money on both of us having had the same reaction to Blake. When I watched you watching Blake in the rehearsal playback I knew we were on the same page. What the hell is he doing and where in the hell are his lips? We probably had this idea at the same time: Meg Ryan could give Blake some of her silicone and even things out! I know! Perfect!

The thing is, Bar, I know you run deep. I know you’ve been through a lot. You’ve lost two brothers and I don’t know what that’s like but I’m pretty sure you never get over it, just get through it. You’ve come through a lot and turned out to be the most amazing guest host Idol’s ever had.

Or am I just completely hormonal?

Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on May 9, 2007 6:35 pmUncategorized18 comments  


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