The Trip Part 2

Before the trip began Phatush needed answers to some pretty pressing questions..... and the teachers would have to update her immediately.

1) When would the Ritalin be given out, and would there be extra for the parent volunteers?

2) Would we be doing a quick stop at a nail salon and Banana Republic for a full waxing and make over for the mom with the mustache and the mom pants?

3) Would they be distributing kid leashes? ..... because if so, she needed 4 of them.....(2 for today ...and 2 for the Hanukkah grab bag)

and finally...

4) Upon our arrival, would there be any drink specials at the open bar?

The rest of the day went down like this ...... the parent volunteers were assigned children to guard....much like the guards in 'Silence of the Lambs' were assigned to watch over Hannibal Lecter....and that didn't end well.... Each parent was given 2 kids ....one alien visitor from Planet 10 and a regular kid....

After 8 years of parenting DAK Phatush does not mind guarding aliens.... but she did have one simple request...... No kids with ridiculous names!!!!!!! She just couldn't see herself spending the day saying things like, "Get over here, Caligula!" and "Stop running around and hold my hand, Mercury!"

Phatush was entrusted with two 7 year-old girls during this outing..... and let me tell you, she hasn't heard girls dish like that since hanging out with two drag drag queens during Gay Pride in 1996....

Phatush learned about one girl's parents' divorce and the mom's last 4 boyfriends...... and the other kid's almost kidnapping in IKEA last weekend while shopping for flatware.

Phatush was horrified by what she just heard.....Who the hell buys flatware at IKEA?

This was nothing compared to trying to cross Broadway in downtown SOHO with 4 kids in tow..... It was like playing a human game of "Frogger."

DAK is now safely back in his Brooklyn classroom a mile away from Phatush. Where he belongs.

For some strange reason he asked Phatush not to go on anymore class trips.

Class Trip

Today, DAK's (Day After Kid) class will go on a field trip into Manhattan.
DAK had asked me to come along, and since The Maury Povich Show is a re-run, I have agreed.

This morning Phatush found out that there will be 13 other parents accompanying DAK's class on this trip. Wait.... 23 kids.... 13 parents..... Whatever happened to the good old days when parents dumped you at school, and saw you again 7 hours later?

Phatush's own mom was a brownie leader for about 20 minutes until some 9 year old vomited into her Coach bag during an outing.

Hold on a sec.... Did I get those numbers right? ....13 adults are free on a random rainy Wednesday to go with their kids on class trip?

What the hell is wrong with these people? Don't they have anything better to do? .....


Oh yeah.... I'm going too.

Guess not.

Yelling at Kids

For Some Parents, Shouting Is the New Spanking

By HILARY STOUT

The New York Times
Published: October 21, 2009

Many in today’s pregnancy-flaunting, soccer-cheering, organic-snack-proffering generation of parents would never spank their children. We congratulate our toddlers for blowing their nose (“Good job!”), we friend our teenagers (literally and virtually), we spend hours teaching our elementary-school offspring how to understand their feelings. But, incongruously and with regularity, this is a generation that yells.
“We are so accustomed to this that we just think parents get carried away and that it’s not harmful,” said one of the study’s lead authors, Murray A. Straus, a sociologist who is a director of the Family Research Laboratory at the University of New Hampshire. “But it affects a child. If someone yelled at you at work, you’d find that pretty jarring. We don’t apply that standard to children.

WHAT???? NO YELLING AT YOUR KIDS ANYMORE?

I though yelling at your kids was some kind of constitutional right , like freedom of assembly and abortion.

First, The Times supports banning trans fats in foods.... Then, they take on that horrible problem that plagues NYC public schools... the one that will lead to our city's youth going straight from middle school to jail:
THE SNAPPLE VENDING MACHINES.

I'VE HAD IT.

Not to yell at children just seems fundamentally wrong.
It feels similar to when McDonald's tried to sell /con kids into eating "McApple" slices instead of fries.... Or when Elton John married a woman.
It just doesn't make sense. People know they're being scammed.

Phatush's own childhood would not have been the same without her dad, COD's (Crabby Old Dude), melodious barking voice saying, " WHAT THE FUCK'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?"
It is true... It would have stopped me dead in my tracks had COD uttered some new parenting bullshit like "Phatush, please stop lighting your cigarettes with the Hanukkah candles.... You're making really bad choices."

For those of you who need the translation , "You're making really bad choices" is this decade's "Good Mommy" way of saying, "STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!"

Instead of listening to The New York Times, Phatush prefers to parent in a different style...
It's sort of an Abu Ghraib sort of way....
Yelling... nightly lock-downs... threats of physical torture....

Fear and intimidation seem to get the job done.

The Remote

In a somewhat rare display of unity, my husband, BH (Baggage Handler), gave over the TV remote for 3 hours and let Phatush control the evening.

Phatush seized the opportunity and forced Baggage Handler to watch 3 hours of the Oxygen Network. (You know, TV for women.... by women.)
He was subjected to the following shows:

Bridezilla - Heinous brides-to-be leave their trailer parks and try to make their 500 dollar weddings look glamorous. They usually wind up pitching a fit when their 27 dollar carnation bridal bouquet doesn't come out right. As far as I'm concerned, this is an hour of heaven.

Say Yes To The Dress- Brides shop for dresses at the one of a kind bridal store - Kleinfeld's. Brides are often encouraged to spend the equivalent of the down payment for a new car on their bridal gown. At Kleinfeld's, you can meet with their esteemed "Headpiece Specialist" to create your own bridal veil. Are they fucking kidding me? What master's degree program is that? Headpiece Specialist?
(In the interest of full disclosure: Phatush owns a bridal gown from Kleinfeld's. I think it was from a wedding or two back, and it made a great Halloween costume a few years ago.)

and

I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS PREGNANT - Where 2nd shift McDonald's employees give birth in the fast food restaurant's toilet. These chicks had no idea they were pregnant at the start of the business day. Don't despair... their fellow co-workers are there to catch the newborn before it was accidentally flushed down the john. I really couldn't make this shit up if I tried.


By the time TV viewing was over, BH needed 2 shots of cheap whiskey, the channel changed to boxing, and some crappy Chinese food. Anything to restore his manhood.

I guess it will a long time till I see the remote again.

Dear Mayor Bloomberg

I know there are a lot of things to think about with your upcoming election a mere 6 weeks away. In a last ditch effort to capture the undecided, vote I have a plan for you...

As soon as possible please add the following city ordinance to the books; I'm sure it will close the deal on your win for a 3rd term as the City's mayor.


EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: No visible tattoos on any woman over the age 37.

I never want to see the words "PRETTY TITTIE" on any aging woman's boobs.

The ordinance should also include tramp stamps on the lower back. No second grade class needs to be traumatized by viewing some yuppy's fading tribal symbol when she bends over to give out snacks.

The back-story-

While shopping the sale rack at Loehmann's this past weekend, Phatush got an eye full of some aging mom's bad ink. (BTW, Loehmann's on Sundays has more Jews than Yom Kippur services)

This chick's ink may have looked good back in 1987 while cruising in her boyfriend's T-top Camaro and listening to Whitesnake... but 20 years later it's a horror show.

In fact, maybe money should be allocated from the budget for the removal and restoration of these defiled body part. A lot like the rebuilding of Ground Zero, this would restore morale among city residents, boost tourism, and make the city a more beautiful place to live.

You have to trust me on this one.

Sincerely,
Phatush

The Talk

As far as Phatush is concerned, she has been having "THE TALK" with her 12 year old daughter, DRWB (Diana Ross Wanna Be), for years. You know the talk that I mean... "Your body is changing"... hormones... boys... shopping the sale rack... and all the rest of the topics that make me uncomfortable.


In the past, I've made a job out of teaching teens how to put condoms on bananas, how to get off safely without getting pregnant or, worse, HIV/AIDS, etc. I always managed to do this with both comfort and humor. Now with my own skinny jean wearing, cell phone toting, subway-riding 12 year old, it is a whole other ball game. Even if I talk the "Hey, you can ask me anything" talk, her ear for bullshit is fine tuned.

Last night, in a rare moment when we were not hurling daggers at each other, we sit in her bedroom and talk about: her great sense of style... how nicely she is growing up... and how much older she's getting.

I use this moment of being connected to reach out to her, and it goes something like this:

Phatush: "That outfit you picked out for tomorrow looks great."

DRWB: Thanks

Phatush: "You really are growing up so nicely, it seems like every day you look taller."

DRWB: "Yeah, I know... I need new jeans... black. Buy them tomorrow... and I don't want to try anything on. Buy them without me... and they better fit right... Not boot cut... I hate those. And not 'Old Navy' crap either... I hate those too... (dramatic sigh) My body is changing a lot......"

Phatush: (jumping right on this... and grabbing the moment) "I know... Do you have any questions? ....is there anything you want to ask about these changes?"

(I'm trying to channel Dr. Ruth and Lady Ga Ga all in one breath.)

DRWB: "Yes, there is...... Um, I've wanted ask you stuff.........."

(Now I'm thinking, I haven't lost my touch.... That I really do have this whole teen thing down correctly.... That there is NO WAY my daughter is ever going to be Lindsay Lohan or working at a Hooters on my watch. After all, she has me..... and can talk to her hip mom about anything....)

and then she asks ....

DRWB: "What is that white stuff that is on your teeth in the morning.... You know.... I can sometimes scrape it off with my finger.....?"

and I answer ....

Phatush: "Plaque."

I guess we have a long way to go.

Obama and the Nobel Peace Prize

President Obama's Nobel Prize

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Read More: Nobel Peace Prize, Obama Nobel, Obama Nobel Award, Obama Wins Nobel, Obama Wins Nobel Peace Prize, Obama Wins Peace Prize, President Obama, World News

What's Your Reaction?

Today's media "shocker" was that Obama wins the Nobel Peace Prize.

This is Phatush's take on the news event as it unfolded ......

The president was humbled at being the recipient of this distinguished honor ......and then said, "HURRY UP ....I GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE .....I HAVE 2 WARS TO FIGHT..."

12 Year Old Girls

DRWB ( Diana Ross Wanna Be) is now 12 .....she is now in 7th grade ...She laughs ......She whines ..She cries ....She yells ....She eye rolls ....She hums ....She stomps.....She tortures .....She loves ....She curses under her breath .....She makes baby sounds and cuddles .....ALL IN THE SPAN OF 8 and HALF MINUTES.

Each day I ask myself the following .....

What soap opera character will she be channeling today ?.... Does Susan Lucci need a replacement after all these years ?

How early was Sybil's mother able identify her multiple personalities ....?

If we lived in China could I still drown her and not get into trouble?

Why can't my hands stop shaking?

and

Where is my seat belt for this damn roller coaster ride ?

I don't make things easy on her. I laugh.....I cry ......I yell .......I stomp ......I curse .......I whine ...... Like centuries of Jewish woman before me ....I feel it is my birthright to comment and be critical about everything. Make no mistake, DRWB has an arsenal all her own ...she is Phatush's most worthy sparing partner.

After years of fighting with me she has finally put her talent for arguing to good use. She was picked for her middle school debate team. I knew that she would be good at this as long as she didn't mutter ..."asshole" ....or "shut up" ...under her breath as she is prone to do.

This weekend she returned back from her first debate taking home two medals......

Shocking ....!

Bigger Kadunkadunk

	Kadunkadunk
	Someone who has a wide juicy, thick scrumptious fat ass. Remember this person has a fat ass they are not a fat ass person there's a big difference! (from: urbandictionary.com) I'll say it here: There has never been an everything bagel and cream cheese that didn't have my name on it. While pregnant with DAK (in 2001), I gained a whopping 86 lbs...... I defied both nature and science by giving birth to a 7 pound kid and coming out of the hospital 9 lbs. heavier. I'm still not sure how I accomplished this; to this day, I still think that sadistic nurse had one foot on the scale at the final weigh-in. Maybe it was her way of getting even for the havoc I put everyone through on the maternity floor. For example, when she asked if I needed anything, I responded "YES! A hammer to knock myself unconscious!" Well, fast forward 8 years... And a loss of 257 pounds total (107 off my body... and 150 lbs. of ex-husband).... And I find myself packing on the pounds again. It might be the influence of my new husband, who always seems ready to pull a drive-by at KFC or Taco Smell. He (Baggage Handler) happens to be a big guy, and can polish off a meal from the Burger King lounge like a Rikers Island inmate on leave. He prides himself on being thrown out of 3 all-you-can-eat buffets. However, for his own safety, he keeps silent about my ever-expanding ass. It has gotten out of control, and I know this... how? I can no longer walk near the two local housing projects without getting male attention..... and as tempting as that might be, it's really not for me. So whenever the next Biggest Loser casting call is..... Here I am.

OPM- Other People Moms

Last week DAK (Day After Kid) informed me that he wanted me to be more like BND's (Boy Next Door) mom....

It went something like this ...

DAK - " You should be more like BND's mom".

Phatush- " What, Canadian?"

DAK - "No.... Darker"

Phatush- "Darker????? .... Come on.... Don't I always wear black?"

DAK- "No, just.... uh.... she's...... uh....... normal"

Phatush- "I'M NORMAL! ....kinda. "

Okay, so BND's mom and I are two very different moms. This is not the first time that this claim has been made. I was once told this by another mom at a PTA event....... This is how she put it (said with attitude):

"Let's just say that we are two very different moms."

I wasn't sure what she meant by this.... But I blinked, then exhaled slowly and responded. I pointed out to her this was 100% true, that we are 2 very different moms.... She shows up to school with 'Camel Toe,' and, for the most part..... I don't.
(Okay there is that one pair I black jeans that I have a slight problem with....)


I'll say it here: I'll never be like BND's mom. She is pretty, soft spoken, her socks match, and... well..... she's Canadian. She wears pretty pink lipstick and doesn't go to work each day with smokey eyeshadow and blood red lip gloss. Bra-less, her boobs don't gracefully graze her knees the way mine do.

My hair will never go neatly into a bob cut. (I've tried. When attempted, I bear a striking resemblance to Ronald McDonald.) There will always be 2 inches of dark roots to my blond hair.... my ass will always have it's own zip code.... and I drop the 'F-bomb' almost as often as I use my kids' names.

I'd like to think that my personal sense of style is Stevie Nicks in her pj's meets Courtney Love exiting Promises Rehab.