Bye, Bye Miss American Pie

It’s time for me to eat some humble pie. And I’d really prefer apple. I got on that whole grupster kick and spent way too many hours last weekend researching the topic. I’m like that. Dangle a pop culture carrot and I’m off — never to return. So I read articles and blogs, watched videos, downloaded music…(I wonder if this all makes me a PSYCHO-anal-ist?) Now, after embarking on an immersion course in grubsterism, I’ve emerged with a reality check in hand. I’ll never be either a) cool enough, or, b) rich enough. It apparently takes a lot of free time and designer clothing (read: dinero) to be in that scene. I had myself all pegged in because I do share an affinity for hip clothes and trendiness. I also agree that Barney should be hung up by his purple-polka-dot tail. At our house, we’ve found common ground with Dan Zanes and the Black Eyed Peas, so why should I subject myself or those two girls of mine to Wiggles? I also hate Barbie, Disney princesses, Bratz and pretty much anything else that involves massive amounts of merchandising and/or self-esteem efface-ment with matching happy meals at Mickey D’s (hate Mickey D’s too – but for other reasons). I also hate flashing tennis shoes with superheros or Hello Kitty. And I just don’t see why they have to be intrinsic to your life when you have kids. So that’s where I found myself feeling ‘one’ with this new sub-parent group. My baby has a black AC/DC t-shirt (thanks, Tinners! And it actually reads AB/CD with the lightning bolt in the center.). Miss 6 has one with a skull that she LOVES, and why not?

So let me backtrack as I step off my soapbox. I cannot say, unequivocally, that I will never have any of this stuff in my house. Gifts are received and there’s no way around it. And I have this sneaking suspicion that little Beanie is going to have more than one trick up her sleeve. Which probably means screaming hissy fits in Target if she doesn’t get the damn princess shoes or whatever. I’m not totally stupid and naïve. I just like to think that I’ll do what I can to maintain my own identity while raising girls who are confident and don’t think big boobs get you through medical school.

If that makes me a grubster, then send me a check and I’ll sit around at any coffee shop you tell me to. And the Decemberists are a REALLY good band. So I guess the research wasn’t all for naught.

PS: The hubby has been away this week and I didn’t feel the need to rant even once. Aren’t you proud? I do feel compelled to add, however, that Beanie woke me up at 4:53 a.m. this morning and then spit up all over me at Costco. Luckily I was already in the process of storming out because they don’t take check cards. (And I couldn’t remember my PIN. Damn.) I promptly ran head-on into TRPL TRBL who offered me her checkbook. But I was too miffed and tired to queue up again. So while it hasn’t been all tulips and butterflies, Ava the neurotic hasn’t reared her ugly head once. Hip-hip-hooray.

I had a mom’s playdate after fitness club yesterday and Purse Girl is getting some big attention for her fun bags. Fresh Produce carries them already and they seem to be making their way into the Hollywood scene. I told her to remember the little people…very cool stuff happening for another mom trying to get it done. See for yourself: Ric Rac Designs. I am so happy for her.

Next weekend I’ll be with Neighbor Jane at the Ballpark Market in Denver. I am helping her man a booth there full of her great jewelry (see link: Get jeweled ). It’s supposed to be a really funky, Euro-style market. Should be tons of fun and I hope she’s a smashing success!

TODAY'S THEME SONG: Shine a Light. Wolf Parade. C'mon. All the grubsters are doin' it.