♦   Desperately Seeking Susan aired on HBO this week and I love my 80s flicks. Madison watched a few minutes of it with me and then says, “When did Madonna die?” I”m like, “What!? She didn’t. What makes you think she’s dead?” After a long pause she says, “Oh, I was thinking of Marilyn Monroe.” (This is the same kid who cried when she learned Elvis was dead after she saw Lilo & Stitch.

♦   Today when I went to pick up Madison from school, like I normally do, she opened the car door looking totally confused. She said, “Why is Dad here too?” I looked over and there, just two parking spaces away, was my husband. We were both like, “What are you doing here?” Apparently we’d had a misunderstanding but I had to laugh that we’d both been waiting so close to each other without noticing.

♦   Inmate arrested for refusing to leave jail. So, who is the winner in this?

♦   Middle school football team’s trick play.

♦   Are you a Nick Mom? You should checkout this funny site…
Letters from camp.
What you’d give for 10 minutes of peace and quiet.
Playground equipment

Hope your weekend is off to a great start. And if you need a smile today, try taking this quiz to see if you can spot the difference between real and fake smiles. I got 15 out of 20 correct, probably because I tried to look at the eyes as the giveaway.

Every family has stories that get retold at family gatherings. They usually start with “remember the time…” and everyone knows them by heart. They may be funny, sad or embarrassing things you just can’t live down. Maybe they’ve been embellished over time. Whatever they are, they’re just as much a part of the family as grandma’s meatloaf recipe. Here are my own top 10 family stories (thanks MamaKat):

Remember the time… you knocked yourself out?
1.  When I was five my BFF said to me, “Let’s teeter-totter!” That sounded like a great idea. Then we were joined by two friends on the adjacent seesaw. We decided to hold hands across so that we could teeter-totter synchronized. Then I slipped and… BANG! That’s the last thing I remember before waking up with my kindergarten teacher and the whole playground surrounding me. It took seven stitches to close up the wound in my forehead.

Remember the time… your sister taught you to write?
2.  I was jealous when my older sister learned to write. One afternoon I bugged my busy mother to teach me how until she finally told my sister to help me. She taught me alright… how to write her name.

Remember the time… you broke your sister’s finger?
3.  My sister and I were jumping around in sleeping bags like they were potato sacks. We fell, me landing with my elbow on the ring finger of my sister’s right hand. I don’t remember her tears or going to the doctors office. I remember resenting her splint because Mom wouldn’t take us bowling that day.

Remember the time… your sister got lost in Disneyland?
4.  Nothing is scarier than when a child is missing. We got separated from my sister in Disneyland for four hours - the longest four hours I’ve ever lived. I seriously thought we’d end up putting her face on a milk carton. When we finally found her (she’d gone back to the hotel looking for us) I was so happy to see her I cried.

Remember the time… Mom lost the radio station contest?
5.  A popular local radio station ran a contest where they dialed random numbers and asked whoever answered, “What music station do you listen to?” The correct response, “KZZP, 104.7 FM, the number one hit music station,” earned you a cash prize. My mother got their call at work. Her response? “KZZP.” Did that count? Nope.

Madison’s antics have made for some great stories. These are her contributions to the list:

Remember the time… you said the most embarrassing thing EVER?
6.  A friend we were visiting had a guest who was, um… very obese. Madison hadn’t met anyone at that weight before. So, she marched right up to him, patted his stomach and said, “Your tummy is full. You ate all of the food.” I hoped the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

Remember the time… you puked at school?
7.  Madison is known for her weak stomach. Her threshold for what is gross is especially low when it comes to food. The policy at her elementary school was to send home any child who threw up, which resulted in many post lunch pick-ups for me. My favorite incident happened in fourth grade when she said she threw up because the boy sitting next to her “put barbecue sauce on his pizza… and ate it.“

Remember the time… you were taken off the playground in a wheelchair?
8. Madison is also known to be overly dramatic about injuries, which makes it difficult to diagnose when something is actually wrong. One day at recess she fell and banged her shin pretty hard. She screamed, cried, and could not get up. The nurse took her off the playground in a wheelchair and called me at work saying Madison’s leg was probably broken. I rushed her to the emergency room but by the time a doctor examined her she’d stopped crying and her leg hardly looked bruised. They didn’t even take an X-ray.

Remember the time… you broke your arm and didn’t know it?
9.  Flash forward to middle school. Madison was outside playing when she banged her right elbow and skinned it. She came home holding her arm funny but when I asked her what happened she said, “Yeah, yeah, I hurt my arm but guess what? Guess what?!” Then she launched into a story about how much fun she had. Throughout dinner she favored her arm but refused Tylenol and hesitantly accepted an ice pack. By her bedtime I’d forgotten all about it. The next morning her Dad found her in the bathroom trying to do her hair left handed – her right elbow was swollen and black and blue. Instead of school we took her to Urgent Care. This time she’d broken a bone, ended up in a cast and yet hadn’t shed a single tear. Go figure.

Remember the time… we surprised you with a total bedroom makeover?
10.  When Madison was in 6th grade she went on a school field trip to Catalina Island for three days. While she was gone we totally redid her bedroom – new furniture and fresh paint with a blue accent wall and funky design. Read about it and see pictures here.

Checkout stories like this and more at MamaKat’s Writer’s Workshop.

A letter by North Carolina death row inmate Danny Robbie Hembree, Jr. to The Gaston Gazette was big news today. He called himself “a gentleman of leisure,” touted his living conditions, and dared the state to carry out his execution. Understandably, he angered thousands who took to the Internet to express their disgust. Comments by prison guards that agree inmates have it easy, some going as far as to say they have nicer lives than their own, surprised me the most.

Am I naïve to say I don’t believe Hembree’s claims for a second? I think his letter was nothing more than the cruel taunts of a madman. He says he enjoys three hot meals a day. Remember eating lunch in the school cafeteria? That’s gourmet cooking compared to the swill most prisons serve and inmates don’t get to choose when and what they eat. He has access to a color television but I doubt he has a remote to channel surf or that he has premium cable channels. And can you think of a more empty and useless way to spend years of your life than watching daytime television ad nauseam? Okay, so he can read. That could make a lover of literature jealous. Wouldn’t I just love more uninterrupted time to curl up with my Kindle? In Hembree’s case all publications must be pre-approved so he’s not kicking his heels up with the latest bestseller.

Most infuriating, Hembree brags in his letter about 24-hour access to free medical care. I doubt he gets the immediate response that you or I would if we called 9-1-1. Usually prisoners have to provide a written request for medical attention and it can take days or even weeks to be seen. Some correctional facilities will only provide the care for free if the inmate is indigent, i.e. has no money on his commissary account.

Let me point out some things Hembree neglected to discuss, like visitation. You and I can chat with our closest gal pals over coffee any day of the week. Anyone who wants to visit Hembree has to go through a pre-approval process and make an appointment at least one week in advance. Visits are held on certain days and they are conducted through plexiglass. Danny Hembree, Jr. won’t be hugging his son, who has also been in trouble with the law for drug possession and larceny, any time soon if he even sees him at all.

Hembree has no privacy whatsoever, not for showering or using the toilet. All of his mail can be scrutinized. All outgoing calls are limited, monitored, and must be made collect. He lacks the freedom to move about at will, being confined to his cell and dayroom for all but one hour a day for meals or a shower. He can only go outdoors twice per week “weather permitting.”

Does it go without saying that Danny Hembree Jr. is just a number as far as the state of North Carolina is concerned? He’s no longer an individual able to make and realize his own dreams. He has no hope of family, career and a nice retirement. He will not take vacations or enjoy any meaningful outside relationships. (No Internet access means no email, Facebook or Twitter.)

I’m certainly not advocating to make the lives of convicted killers on death row easier. At the risk of offending people, I’m simply suggesting we put supposed amenities like free meals and access to medical care in perspective. I hope I didn’t just become The Blogger Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.

The past few days have been cloudy. It’s even rained. In Phoenix. This weather has seemed to match my gloomy mood. Things have been difficult lately. We’re dealing with a tough situation that started months ago and the resolution of which looms uncertainly in the future. One day at a time, I keep thinking.

Always in the back of my mind I know things could be so much worse. Lucas and I have created a loving, safe and happy home for our kids. We have an amazingly supportive extended family. Everyone is healthy. Our situation, though frightening, will eventually be worked out and the passage of time will make it a distant memory. Lots of dear ones are praying for us continually. There is much to be grateful for… Still.

Yesterday it was hard to suppress my worry. Words like bleak, alone and fear kept coming to the surface. All day I was sluggish, even after I took a nap with Hudson. I was grouchy to Madison. I didn’t get anything done around the house.

By the time Lucas got home I knew I needed to get out for a little while. A change of scenery does wonders for my outlook. We ended up walking around Scottsdale Quarter and stumbling on a candy store called It’Sugar. This is not your grandmother’s candy store. This place can keep the Tooth Fairy in business. They sell the biggest box of Nerds I’ve ever seen. Enormous Gobstoppers and SweetTarts! Jawbreakers bigger than baseballs! Sugar Daddys and Laffy Taffy big enough to rip out a few teeth. Rows of candy in bins to buy by the ounce or pound. It was like we died and went to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Oompa Loompas behind the cash registers.

On the It’Sugar website you can order a 7 pound jug of Hershey’s syrup, 5 pound Hershey’s chocolate bars, and 27 pound gummy bears. You read that right.

Hudson thought this place was pretty cool. Look at how he’s eying that lollipop.

My melancholy mood lightened just being around all that brightly-colored sugary goodness and I walked away with a truth to remember during trying times: Keep moving forward with your head up and you just might find a sweet surprise waiting around the corner. As if to confirm a light at the end of the tunnel the weather forecast today announced, “Sunshine will be on the increase for the rest of the week.”

In elementary school my teacher would read aloud to the class everyday. Story time was great except when she read Taffy and Melissa Molasses. I slouched at my desk, my cheeks turning strawberry colored. Why? Because all through recess the kids, including my friends, teased me: “Melissa Molasses! Here comes Melissa Molasses! Hey Melissa, do you like to eat molasses?” Sure, it’s juvenile and stupid now but at the time it was so embarrassing.

When we’re mothers-to-be we want to choose a name that will hopefully spare our child unnecessary teasing. With my first baby I considered lots of names – one of them was Maizy . Everyone was quick to point out it rhymed with crazy and lazy. I could imagine those playground chants and I scratched Maizy off the list. At the time a unique name was really important to me and eventually Madison was chosen. In 1996 no one I knew had ever heard of it. (Some people actually asked me if I got it from the movie Splash. Um, no. I wouldn’t name my kid after a mermaid in a 1980s flick.) It did concern me the name Madison might be too unique but I couldn’t have been more wrong. About that same year it became one of the most popular girls names and my daughter has so many friends with her same name, and a ton of Haleys too, that I’ve joked she should have a “Madison and Haley only party” just to see how many people show up. Still, despite its commonality I can’t imagine her by any other name.

With our son Lucas and I wanted to choose a name that wouldn’t hold him back. It would have to look good on the nameplate to an executive suite, on a baseball uniform, or on the ballot for President of the United States. We think Hudson fits that bill and we’re glad our family agreed – we had a list of our top four choices and let everyone vote on their favorite. Hudson won by a landslide.

Now with our third child on the way we will play the name game one final time. Originally Lucas hadn’t wanted to find out if we were having a boy or girl. I’m glad that ultrasounds are so clear these days that it was pretty obvious it’s a girl. Yes, the suspense was killing me. Yes, I wanted to know if I should buy pink or blue onesies. But I also wanted to concentrate only on names for one sex or the other.

I realize that no matter what name we choose there will be teasing (it’s a part of growing up) and they will dislike it at some point, but hopefully not permanently. I have friends who only go by their middle names – one dumped his first name, Eric, in grade school because the sound of it reminded him of “earache.” A woman I know reversed a couple of consonants in her name to go from Sidney to Sindey. I even know a guy who legally changed his name, dumpling his surname to keep just his first and middle name.

For now, Lucas and I are still thumbing through baby books. I’m open to anyone’s suggestions… especially to anyone who can persuade my husband that “Kristen” is pretty cool.

What a week, huh? Were you affected by all the websites down on Wednesday? And did you read that Heather Armstrong of Dooce.com fame announced her separation? So sad.

I did get some laughs in. Honestly not a lot because somehow the week flew by while I was potty training and glued to my laptop.

Remember I said last week that I should start writing down the strange things that come out of my mouth at home? Well, here’s a few I noted… (Anything funny overheard around your house?)

Madison, playing an online word game with friends: “Nards is a word?”
Me: “It probably means balls.”

Me to Lucas (jokingly): “Sometimes I think you love me because you’re so forgetful.”

Me to Lucas (seriously): “A woman shouldn’t wear a nipple dress to The Golden Globes. She shouldn’t wear one anywhere.”

Me to Hudson: “Big boys don’t try to put their feet in their potties.”

Here’s a few things that made me laugh out loud…

Ricky Gervais sings a lullaby to Elmo. I watched this like 10 times. You are never too old to find Elmo cute and funny.

And two comics on The Doghouse Diaries…
Jim is typing.
Wedding speeches.

Hope you are enjoying your weekend!

Brides don’t buy their white wedding gown thinking about the black dress they may need someday. Joyce Carol Oates shares her shocking plunge into widowhood when her husband of forty-six years, Raymond Smith, died suddenly.

Oates begins her memoir “A Widow’s Story” recanting how lucky she and Ray felt to have both survived a serious car accident, never realizing their remaining days together were numbered. One year after the crash Ray fell ill and she took him to the emergency room where they learned he had pneumonia. Expecting a release within days, Ray’s condition worsened with a virulent hospital-acquired infection. Oates gives us an unflinching look at what happened next: the urgent middle of the night call instructing her to return to the hospital immediately, her bedside goodbye to her beloved, and collecting his personal items in a total daze… somehow she misplaces his watch.

“My husband died, my life collapsed,” she writes.

The memoir then chronicles the following year of her grief, paralyzing loneliness, and struggle to find a new normal. She tells of the unexpected “death duties” required of widows as the executrix of a will – so many copies needed of the death certificate!

Joyce Carol Oates refers to this work as a quasi widow’s handbook but it also provides some important hints for the well-intentioned supporters of the grieving. Thinking of sending flowers or a gift to the bereaved? JCO writes that a barrage of sympathy bouquets and food baskets initially overwhelmed her and the packaging material kept her trash can overflowing. A card with some thoughtful words indicating no response is necessary would do nicely, but choose your words with care. Consider these moments JCO reveals when sympathizers put their foot in their mouths:

— Too soon after her husband’s death people asked for her future plans: “What are you going to do now? Sell your house?”
— A friend praised her for wearing pink, the implication being that widows wear black.
— At dinner with several couples a toast to marriage gave way to a discussion of the joys of long marriages.
— A contractor she hired likened his divorce to the death of her husband.
— The long-time physician of Raymond Smith tried to make sense of his sudden death in the hospital saying, “Maybe Ray just gave up.”

Critics of “A Widow’s Story” dislike that Joyce Carol Oates remarried and not a word of husband number two was mentioned in the memoir. I believe knowing that JCO wed again makes it easier to read the sorrow palpable in its pages. It also makes this a tale of triumph over tragedy.

In case you were wondering.

Hudson handed me a mini Disney board book to read to him. It’s a simple story told in 10 pages: Mickey Mouse is excited that it’s snowing and decides to go ice skating. Then he gets disappointed at the store when there are no more skates to buy. Luckily Minnie Mouse is outside making snow angels and invites him to play.

Donald Duck joins them and they build a snowman… but Mickey wishes he had skates.

Now the threesome is joined by Daisy Duck and the three ducklings: Huey, Dewey and Louie. They all go sledding… but Mickey still wishes he had skates.

I think I know where this story is going. Mickey is going to snap out of his funk and realize he doesn’t need to buy skates to have fun because he’s surrounded by friends. Snowmen and sledding is so much better!

But wait…

On the next page Minnie is consoling a bummed out Mickey when Goofy suddenly swoops in with a surprise package for him. Guess what’s inside? New skates! Then the whole gang goes ice skating and Mickey is finally happy now that’s he gotten what he wanted. The End.

Okay, I love Disney and I’m not one who would ban a book, least of all a little toddler board book. But isn’t it funny that instead of taking an opportunity to teach a lesson – for instance, “money doesn’t buy happiness” – they went the opposite way? Attention children: When you don’t get what you want, pout. Don’t waste your energy being happy until you get what you deserve because if you wait long enough someone will magically hand you what it is you’ve been wanting.

The book I’m looking forward to reading to Hudson is Aliens Love Underpants! It’s a colorful story told in fun rhyme about some friendly aliens who come to earth because of the underpants. I’ve heard this is a great companion to toilet training because it encourages toddlers to see the perk of peeing in the potty: big boy/girl underwear! I’ve just bought Hudson a potty seat and pull-ups. If this book is going to make this process easier then I’m all for it. Whether it has a moral or not.

Cloudy days in Phoenix are something to enjoy. It’s 61° with a high of less than 70°.

If you’re jealous of the weather I’m enjoying, please check back in the summer months while I fry an egg on the cement. Oh, and take a look at my utility bill. That will knock the envy right out of you.