I like gummy bear | i love gummy bear | gummy bear song english

I was at Staples today. Shopping for report covers. And then I browsed the label aisle because I like labels. I spied this gem in the label display. (Sorry for the crappy pics - the camera on my phone sucks.) A closer look, in case you couldn't see the sample address on the packaging: Don't know who Tyler Durden is? Don't be ashamed. Apparently, the supervisors at Avery don't either. Tyler Durden is a character in Chuck Palahniuk's novel Fight Club. Not ringing a bell? Brad Pitt in the movie Fight Club . Wikipedia describes the character as "[a] charismatic but nihilistic neo-Luddite and anarcho-primitivist with a strong hatred for consumer culture." Just the right sample name for your mailing label packaging, right? Heh. I scoured the other label packages and didn't find any other pop culture references. Not a one. I love it.

Dude. Seriously? Maybe you've already seen this video. Apparently, these young girls performed at the halftime of an Army-Navy basketball game in February. Amazing. I smiled. I laughed. I gasped. I said "holy crap" out loud. I cried (I'll admit, I'm a total sap. But the sight of those cadets and midshipmen cheering like maniacs for little girls jumping rope? Verklempt over here.) And, I ultimately felt like an uncoordinated, out-of-shape mom of four whose pelvic floor muscles are too compromised after multiple pregnancies to even think about jumping rope for eight minutes without Depends (Did I just say that out loud? Moms of three and four kids, I know you know what I'm talking about though...) Enough about my bladder. Here they are:

My husband and I were lucky enough to get away for four days this past weekend. San Francisco. Our ten-year anniversary. We had a good time. It was nice to be kid-less for a few days. It was nice to sleep in and take naps. It was nice to explore a city we've never visited. And to eat and drink non-stop. But mostly, it was nice to spend four whole days with the person I chose to share my life's journey with. I'm not generally a sappy person but, hey, ten years. I am very lucky to have found this man. We're not perfect. But it works. I love him more today than I did the day I married him. We're a good team. We understand each other. We enjoy each other. And, the craziness of every day life can obscure that sometimes. But we do a pretty good job of recharging - even just by going on a date from time to time. This weekend was a solid recharge. One funny thing we did this weekend: I found the notebooks we wrote in during our Engaged Encounter weekend ten years ago. I pac

I needed a camera to take to the American Royal BBQ last night ( my husband's band was playing). And I was experiencing a camera deficit. My point-and-shoot is kinda broken. It still takes pictures but the LCD screen is busted (as a result of being squished between my butt and an amusement park ride this summer). And my DSLR is at my sister's house. So, I borrowed M's camera (which was a hand-me-down point-and-shoot we gave her for her birthday). Before I left though, I cleared her memory card. Saved its contents to my hard drive and wiped it clean. Today, I sat down to look at what she shot. Here is life from the perspective of my 6-year-old: Stuffed animals. Dolls. And herself. A pretty apt description of her world, at least as she currently knows it. And then I also found this little gem: M's Blair Witch Project from Kate McKinney on Vimeo .

I know I don't usually write here about non-family-related stuff but I just read an article that made my blood boil. I've been casually following the Roman Polanski arrest story in the news. For the uninitiated, Polanski had sex with a 13-year-old girl after plying her with champagne and drugs. He took topless pictures of her at Jack Nicholson's house before taking her first to a hot tub and then to Nicholson's bedroom. Why the child was there at Nicholson's home is rather inconsequential to the story but apologists surely point out that she was a young teen willing to drink, take pills and pose topless for a much-older man, that she was likely promiscuous, blah blah blah. Yes, she was clearly troubled or, at least, poorly parented. Polanski ended up pleading guilty to the crime of unlawful sexual intercourse - the elements of which are basically the same as what we call "statutory rape". Unlike a charge of forcible rape, statutory rape doesn't require

I can recall saying to mothers of other toddlers, "I thought age 3 was WAY worse than age 2 for my kids." But I couldn't remember exactly why. My babies will be three in January. And now I remember. "I do it myself." All day. Every day. Times two. Slowly leading me to to insanity. Picking out clothes? I do it myself. Taking off and putting on clothes? I do it myself. Taking off and putting on socks and shoes? Yep. I do it myself. Opening the door to the garage. Hitting the garage door opener button. Opening the car door. Putting on car seat straps. Buckling car seat straps. Getting out of the car. Closing the car door. Opening doors at stores and restaurants. Wiping nose. Packing backpack. I do it myself. (Note: Often, there is only one thing to do - like close the car door. So, then we have to open and close the car door twice - because, well, there's two of them and they both want to do it themselves.) I am now late to everything. Every time. I know that t

I had a great conversation with the mom of one of M's classmates the other night. Mom-mom relationships are an interesting thing. Lots of judging (or at least, perceived judging) over in the elementary-school-mom-social-scene. Rah-rah moms, moms who seem to live at the gym, moms that look a little too perfect. (See? Me. Judging.) Anyway, M's friend's mom and I had a real conversation. About being frustrated with kids. About yelling. About trying not to swear in front of the kids. I know these parents are involved with their kids and have fun with their kids and adore their kids. But it was refreshing to hear another mom talk about the same daily frustrations and lost tempers as happen at our house. A little bit of validation goes a long way. (Not that I don't still wish that I handled my frustrations better - but I'm gonna try to stop laying a guilt trip at my own feet.) I think we all put on some sort of facade to strangers and acquaintances. And it's nice when