First, Bitches: The Diva Cup, Part 1

A few years ago, I used to write this blog on Myspace. When it first started to get really popular, it became a sort of badge of honor to leave the first comment. The person quick enough to leave it would simply post, “FIRST!” Then, one day, one of my readers – excited to be first for the first time, posted, “FIRST, BITCHES!” as a way to taunt the other readers.

And that is how “first, bitches” was born. It was a trend that seemed to annoy a lot of people, but I didn’t mind. You can’t really knock people when they’re showing up every day, most times several times a day, to read your random thoughts.

Well, I’ve brought it over here, but it’s not what you think. First, Bitches is a new regular feature in which I’ll write about my experiences with a product, food, gadget, recipe, etc. that is new to me. That’s the key. All too often I’ll find myself totally enamored with something that has already jumped the shark with the rest of the world. (See: using phrases like “jumped the shark.”)

My first review required that I post this in two separate blogs. The first part today, the next one in a few weeks. You’ll see why in a bit. So, without further ado…

The Back Story:

My best friend, Sophie, told me a pretty embarrassing and funny story a few months ago. She and her husband realized they were having a plumbing problem and called in a  professional. The guy investigated their pipes and was outside telling her husband his findings when a nosy neighbor decided to join the mix.

So, he tells her husband (and the nosy guy from across the street), “Your problem is white mice.”

“White mice?”

“Yeah. I see it all.the.time.”

And the plumber proceeds to hold up one used tampon by it’s “tail.”

I will give you a moment to hurl.

You back yet? All better?

Apparently, this is a common problem which surprised me because they live in Jersey and if there’s one place you don’t expect to find pussy pipes, it’s Jersey!

Flash forward a few weeks and Sophie and I are on the phone and she starts telling me about a diva cup. My ears perk up as they do whenever I hear the word diva, seeing as how I’m so fabulous. Then they quickly un-perked and threw up in their mouths when she explained it was a cup you insert in your vagina to collect the blood when you have your period.

Go ahead and hurl again. I’ll wait.

She goes on to explain the financial and environmental benefits of using such a product. I, being a snarky bitch, shot down every sound reason with, “It’s gross!”

Flash forward even more to mid-April and I’m trying to find something to purchase on Amazon.com to go along with my friend’s book. I wanted the free shipping and I figured if I was going to spend more money anyway, I might as well spend it on something tangible. Something I could use. Little did I realize I’d settle on something I could put in my vagina. For out of the blue I suddenly decided to look up “The Diva Cup.”

The DivaCup is a non-absorbent menstrual cup that simply collects menstrual flow. It is inserted in the vagina and sits at the lower base of the vaginal canal. It is worn internally, yet because it is soft and smooth, it cannot be felt nor will it leak when inserted properly.

That doesn’t sound so bad, right?

I decided to get it. I thought, “I’ll spend $20+ now, and not have to worry about buying tampons or pantyliners ever again.” Also, there’s the whole environmental impact, but I was kinda less concerned about that. I did a search on Amazon and discovered there were two versions: Diva Cup 1 and Diva Cup 2. I clicked on 1 to see what the difference was.

Diva Cup 1 – For pre-childbirth or women under 30.

Diva Cup 2 – For women who’ve given birth naturally or via c-section or women over 30.

Well, damn. Why not just call it the stretched out version?

(I put number 2 in my shopping cart.)

And I actually got excited about using it.

The Reaction:

I called Donny at work.

“I just bought a Diva Cup!’

“What’s that?”

“It’s a cup you insert in your vagina when you have your period so you don’t have to use tampons or pads.”

“That’s gross.”

I called my Mom.

“I just bought a Diva Cup!”

“What the hell is a Diva Cup?”

“It’s a cup you put in your vagina when you have your period so you don’t have to buy tampons or pads.”

“Oh fuck that.”

“What?! I’ll save money and help the environment… though, I’m kinda less concerned about that part.”

“I’m not sticking a cup up my ass.”

“It doesn’t go up your ass!”

“And how big is this thing?”

“I don’t know. How big could it possibly be?”

More Donny reaction as we’re driving in the car…

“I can’t wait to get my Diva Cup! I’m sure there’s a learning curve to inserting it and stuff, but I’m excited to try it.”

“That’s gross.”

“You keep saying that. How is it gross?”

“Cause you have to stick your fingers up there and pull it out.”

“First of all, any other time you hear about a woman sticking her fingers in her vagina, you wouldn’t care. Second of all, it has a stem on it just like a tampon has a string.”

“I don’t know. I keep picturing a shot glass of blood and…”

He shudders.

“Oh, shut up.”

Well, it arrived the other day and…

… it’s a lot bigger than I thought.

To be continued…

Take It or Leave It: Crotch Shots and Low Blows

Dear Nina,

When trying to get to my seat in a sporting event or movie theater do I face my ass or my crotch towards the other patrons? Thanks!

Confuzzled in Conroe, TX

Dear Confuzzled,

How bout you get there early enough so that you don’t have to worry about doing either?

I kid. I kid.

This is a serious question and something I’ve struggled with it. I’m not a big fan of putting my crotch in people’s faces (at least not for free), but I have to say that if I’m the person doing the scooting by, I’d prefer to face the person I’m annoying. I want to see the look of disgust and inconvenience as I block their view and step on their toes.

And this holds true if I’m the person seated as well. Butts are rude and I don’t want to see yours. I want you to face me so I can be sure that you see my look of disgust and inconvenience as you block my view and step on my toes.

So, my final answer is, you can’t go wrong with a crotch shot.

(Just make sure you wash your lady parts before you leave the house and you should be fine.)

***

So, what do you guys think of my advice. Should Confuzzled and Itty Bitty Titties take my advice or leave it? Anything you want to add?

And if you or someone you know needs me to solve a problem, shoot an email to nina@blogitoutb.com and you might see it featured here in future installment of Take It or Leave It.

2010, My Bitch

I really hate New Years resolutions and I hate when people make them. Well, hate is really too strong. They annoy me and the people who make them annoy me as well. Probably because I’ve always had a problem with people that talk about it instead being about it. (And putting a date on it – “I’ll start saving money on January 1st!” “I’ll start my diet on Monday!” – is just to make the math easier when trying to figure out just how quickly you failed.)

We all know people that are constantly telling you all the things they want to do, places they want to go, etc., but never do anything about it. More than anything, I hate being that person. So I tend to not share my plans with too many people. But I do understand the value in setting goals, getting organized, and holding yourself accountable. In honor of that, I made one promise to myself for 2010.

“I’m going to make 2010 my bitch.”

That’s right. I’m going to ride this year hard, and put it away wet.

I’m gonna kick this year’s ass and take down its name.

By the time I’m done with 2010, it’s going to tell 2011, “Don’t fuck with her. That bitch is crazy!”

How are you going to do that, you ask?

Well….

1. I am not going to worry about money. I realized that I may never be as rich as I wanna be. But I got tired of worrying about it. I needed to be better about money. To save more. Practice better spending habits. Downsize my expenses. Moving has helped that BIG TIME!

2. I am going to find work from home. This will go a long way in making number one a reality.

3. I am going to publish Sharing Space on Lulu.com. I probably sent out a dozen queries for it and got three positive responses (request for sample chapters) and two flat out rejections. Not bad odds. But the problem became that I am not as enthusiastic about it as I should be. I’ve become a much better writer since I started the novel eons ago.

For those of you that became invested, I’ve decided that giving it a home on LuLu would be the best way for us all to get closure. Then I can move on to other projects.

4. I’m going to actively work on getting published in any form I can. My short story, Amongst the Tulips, was published in an online literary magazine last year and was recently voted one of the best of the year. I’ll receive my hard copy of the publication in May.

Also, I’ve been doing lots of writing at Elephant Words (more on that tomorrow.)

5. Be a better Mom and wife.

I am proud to report that after only four months I am well on my way to making 2010 bow down before me!

Financially secure? Check!

Found a gig working from home? Check!

Now, I can concentrate on the rest. I must say that achieving 1-4 will make 5 a given because my kids and husband deserve a happy and productive mother/wife that kicks all kinds of ass.

I can now start working on my sub list of To Do’s…

To Dos

1. Finish and post Elephant Words piece about dirty, filthy, anonymous sex (4/24)

2. Make a daily schedule to ensure that I’m able to meet my work commitments and still take care of the kids/household.

3. Pay bills and calculate new household budget with new job.

4. Make a two-week menu and then buy the groceries (4/25)

5. Write some of next week’s blogs in advance (4/25)

6. Read the advance copy of the book I was sent – written by a major CEO  – so I can write a review for my blog and gain a) experience and b) exposure… hopefully, I’ll learn something in the process.

My To-Do List For Pleasure

1. Finish reading Steven Novak’s, “FORTS: Fathers & Sons.” Steven is my friend and an awesome artist. He designed my banner above. It’s a wonderful book so far. I encourage you all to head over to amazon.com and pick up a copy.

2. Finish reading Stephen King’s, “Under the Dome.” It’s like, 4,568 pages. I can do it! Also, start reading “Bite Me” by Christopher Moore and “Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter,” by… I forget right now. But I bought it because the title is awesome.

3. Get back into knitting. I took out several DVDs from the library and pulled out all of my needles and yarn. I’m going to make something bigger than a dishrag if it kills me! Or Donny!

4. Continue learning sign language from Kali who is learning it from DVDs taken from the library.

5. Continue to be ridiculously good at Halo 3.

6. Clear off my TiVos before the end of summer.

That last one is MAJOR. My TiVos are currently bursting at the seams.

I have to watch:

Family Room TiVo: 3 episodes of Private Practice, 2 of Grey’s Anatomy, 1 of V, 14 of Smallville, the whole season of Southland, 1 of 24.

Bedroom TiVo: 4 episodes of The Daily Show, 2 of The Colbert Report, 2 of Supernatural, 1 of The Vampire Diaries, 1 of Law and Order: SVU, 1 of Mercy, 9 of 24, 3 of V, 5 of The Amazing Race, 1 of Criminal Minds, 1 of Medium, 4 of Psych

Jack’s TiVo: 11 episodes of The Mentalist, 1 of Desperate Housewives, 14 of CSI, 1 of Survivor: Heroes Vs. Villains, 2 of Criminal Minds and 7 of Psych

Kali’s TiVo: The whole current seasons of Bones and Fringe which we can’t watch until we watch the last seasons via Netflix

How do I do it? Well, for one thing, a lot of that stuff can be done at the same time. Kali teaches me sign language at the dinner table or while we’re riding in the car. I start a knitting DVD and get to a point where I don’t need to look at the video so I can turn it off, and then knit while watching something off the TiVo. I reward myself with playing an hour of Halo after completing a chapter or short story. I make lots of lists and spreadsheets. All of this is done with about six hours of sleep each night and lots of coffee in the morning. Have you noticed what’s missing from those lists? Diet and exercise. I gotta figure out a way to squeeze in an hour of exercise if not every day, every other day.

And the most important thing is that I make sure to do the fun stuff and I don’t let anyone make me feel guilty about it. You damn right we’re gonna spend Saturday afternoon getting caught up on 24. Yup, I’m gonna just lay on the couch for an hour and read. And?

If I (and you) don’t make the time for all the good stuff, the stuff that brings us joy, life will end up making us her bitch instead of the other way around. This morning I raise my coffee mug to all of my friends (not just the writers, though you guys have been kicking 2010′s ass as well) who are making big things happen in 2010.

Lost – S6 Epi. 12 “The Last Recruit”

Previously on Lost: In Los Angeles, Sawyer busts Kate, Sayid busts caps in all kinds of asses, and Sun gets shot. Desmond runs over Locke. On the island, Jack comes face-to-face with Evil Locke for the first time.

And now…

Evil Locke wants Jack to go off into the woods alone so they can “catch up.” When they’re alone Evil Locke explains that he chose Locke because Locke was foolish enough to believe the island had a purpose for him and then there’s the whole matter of Jack being nice enough to bring Locke’s body back. He also admits to looking like Jack’s father in order to help them find water. He claims that he has only ever wanted to help Jack and the rest leave the island.

In Los Angeles: In the ambulance, on the way to the hospital, Ben explains to the paramedics that Locke was already paralyzed. Locke asks that they call Helen. As he’s being wheeled inside, so is Sun, and in Korean she says, “No… no!” It’s him!,” after seeing Locke.

On the island, Evil Locke and Jack come across Claire in the jungle. Evil Locke displays some manners and leaves them alone to chat. Surprisingly, she is coming off less crazy than usual… her hair still looks a hot ass mess though.

Jack says he hasn’t decided if he’s leaving the island with Evil Locke, but Claire tells him that he has. He already decided the moment he let Evil Locke talk to him.

The next morning (they were in the jungle alone ALL NIGHT?), Sawyer tells Hurley his plan. They’re gonna leave via Widmore’s sub. He says Sayid ain’t coming ’cause his ass is all evil now.

Jack, Evil Locke, and Claire return. Hurley lies and tells Claire she looks great.

In Los Angeles, Sawyer questions Kate at the police station. He reads the list of crimes she’s wanted for and observes that she doesn’t look like a murderer. Kate says she’s not. At this point, in this alternate reality, they’ve never said what she has done or if she is really guilty. Kate figures out that Sawyer didn’t turn her in when he saw her in handcuffs at the airport because he didn’t want anyone to know he was in Australia.

Miles calls Sawyer over to investigate the shooting at the restaurant.They got Sayid on surveillance video and want to find him.

On the island, Kate tells Jack that Sayid is different now. Jack says they’re all different. This would be the perfect time for Kate to be like, “No, this mofo is REALLY different. Like, slashing people’s throats and almost let Claire slash my throat, different!” But she doesn’t say anything cause she’s whack.

Tina Fey (Widmore’s girl) shows up at the camp and says that Evil Locke took something from them and they want it back. He has until nightfall or else Widmore will rain down holy hellfire on their asses. No, really, he can totally send over fire bombs and shit. She leaves Evil Locke with a walkie-talkie, which Locke smashes.

“Oh, well. Here we go.”

For some reason, this makes Jack (my son) laugh his ass off.

In Los Angeles, Desmond approaches Claire in the lobby of the adoption agency. She remembers him from the airport. He tells her he’s seeing a lawyer in the same building and suggests that she go see this lawyer to have some help with the adoption negotiations. He convinces Claire to go see the lawyer because although the whole situation is uber creepy, Desmond is hot and has an accent.

The lawyer is Ilana and  turns out she was looking for Claire already! And if I’m not mistaken,Ilana no longer has an accent.

On the island, Evil Locke informs the group that Widmore is lying about him stealing something. He says they’re gonna go to the other island and get on the plane. He instructs Sawyer to go get the boat (Desmond’s boat) and pulls Sayid aside.

Sawyer snatches up Jack and tells him to break off from Evil Locke’s group as soon as he can and meet them at the boat. He tells him to bring only Sun, Lapidis, and Hurley. Everyone else can get bent and that includes Sayid and Claire’s crazy ass. Sawyer and Kate head off.

Evil Locke instructs Sayid to go and kill Desmond. Sayid is all, “Aight.”

Sayid approaches the well and finds Desmond all jacked up at the bottom of it. Desmond wants to know what Evil Locke offered Sayid. He says he owes him at least that information if he’s gonna shoot him in cold blood. Sayid admits that he will get the woman he loves back even though she’s dead. Sayid believes him because he also died, and Evil Locke brought him back (we better get a better explanation that night by the finale! I’m just saying.) Desmond wants to know what he’s going to tell this woman when she asks what he did to have them be together again. Sayid has no answer.

In Los Angeles, Nadia tries to stall Miles so that Sayid can make a run for it, but Sawyer (literally) trips Sayid up in the back yard and arrests him.

On the island, Sawyer tells Kate the plan and she’s upset that Claire isn’t invited. Sawyer is all, “That bitch is crazy.” Claire still looks skeptical even though four epis ago, Claire tried to kill her. Dumbass.

Claire admits to Jack that she trusts Evil Locke because he’s the only person that didn’t abandon her. Evil Locke notices that Sayid hasn’t caught up to them yet and asks Sun if she has seen him. Sun doesn’t answer because her English went bye-bye. Evil Locke is all, “Oh, that’s mature.” She writes him a note that he did it and he’s like, “Girl, I ain’t do shit to you.” Evil Locke says he’s gonna go back and make sure no one got left behind. Jack takes that opportunity to grab Sun, Lapidis, and Hurley and haul ass. Crazy Claire notices and follows.

Evil Locke finds Sayid and asks if he killed Desmond. Sayid said that he did. He’s clearly lying, but either Evil Locke believes him or doesn’t care.

As everyone is about to get on the boat, Crazy Claire shows up with a gun. Kate tells Claire that she can come too if she puts down the gun. Sawyer is all, “Bitch, is you crazy?” Claire seems to return to her old self and hands over the gun, but quickly goes back to Crazy Town when she eerily predicts that Evil Locke will be mad when he finds out they’re gone.

In Los Angeles, Jack and his son David show up at the lawyer’s office for the reading of Christian’s will. The lawyer is Ilana and she surprises Jack by introducing him to Claire. Claire tells Jack that she’s his sister. Before he can react too much, Jack receives a call. He is needed at the hospital.

On the boat, Jack tells Sawyer that leaving the island doesn’t feel right. Sawyer is all, “If you’re gonna keep up that crazy talk, you can get the hell off my boat.” So, Jack jumps off the boat. Kate loses her shit and says they have to go back for him. Sawyer says, “We’re done going back.”

And I have a feeling that may be the last time those characters see the main island they crashed on.

In Los Angeles, Sun wakes up in the hospital and finds out that the baby is okay. Jack prepares to operate on Locke. He is all super duper surgeon badass after looking at Locke’s x-rays. “I got this, bitches.” (OK, I added the bitches part.) Before he cuts, he realizes that he knows Locke.

On the island, Jack swims ashore and runs into Evil Locke and his band of merry crazymen. Evil Locke surmises that Sawyer took his boat.

As Sawyer and crew arrive on Hydra island, Tina Fey and crew show up and demand they put their hands up. Only Kate doesn’t listen at first. Tina Fey calls the base and tells someone to turn the fences off.

Sun sees Jin for the first time in three years. They run towards each other and I’m like, “I really hope they turned those fences off.” Sun’s English returns as she tells Jin that she loves him and never stopped looking for him. Everyone is all, “Aw, shucks,” except Sawyer who is suddenly very interested in his shoes and Claire who just looks crazier.

Tina Fey gets instructions from Widmore and she and company pull their guns on Sawyer and the rest. She tells someone on the walkie they can fire when ready on Evil Locke. On the other beach, Jack hears the holy hellfire coming and orders everyone to get down, which they do… except Evil Locke cause he’s badass like that. Jack is knocked back and Evil Locke carries him to safety.

“Jack? You alright? Don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay. You’re with me now.”

Ruh-roh.

BIOBaby: Breastfeeding at 48 Months

My cousin had a baby in July of 2008. I gave birth to Jack in August of 2008. A few months ago we were both invited to a hookah bar and my response was, “I can’t go! I’m still breastfeeding!” Her response was, “So am I. Now, what’s your excuse?”

The big difference here is that she she was referring to her second child born since July 2008! That’s right. In the time it took her to nurse one child, wean him, get pregnant and have another baby, I’m still breastfeeding the same baby. And you know what? I think it downright offends some people. I’ve received eye rolls and head shakes and that’s from family!

When I was pregnant I said that I would breastfeed for the first two years.  It seemed like a good length of time, and I suppose part of that decision was based on the guilt I felt for weaning Kali earlier than I’d planned. I left myself open to the possibility that I’d change my mind once I actually began.

Last February, when Jack was about six months old, my mother moved in with us. She is from the old school of feeding a baby pretty much anything that won’t choke ‘em and chewing up and feeding them the things that might. I was making Jack’s baby food myself (pureeing and freezing ice cube trays of carrots, squash, and apples) and as she made sure he was eating three squares (literally) a day, he seemed to become disinterested in nursing.

Oh, hell no. I increased my efforts, offering him the boob whenever I could, and it worked. He was back, firmly nestled in my breast where he belonged. A few more months passed and I thought 18-months-old might be a good place to stop. Then one day while on the phone with Sophie she asked when I was going to stop. I told her when Jack was 18 months. And she said, “Well, he’s 17-months-old now, you might wanna start weaning.”

Well, that was two months ago and I’m still “weaning.”

We tried the “don’t offer, don’t refuse” method. I wouldn’t offer up the booby during the day, but if he went for it, I wouldn’t refuse it either. I tried nursing only first thing in the morning, before nap time, and before bed at night. The problem was, he asked all the time!

And most times, he won’t even ask! I can be on the laptop, reading a book, watching T.V., or playing Halo and he’ll come and pull one out for a little pick-me-up. The boy has even pulled one out as I carried him on my hip, walking down the stairs. He literally lifted one out of my tank top, craned his neck, and started sucking.

“OK. You may need to start getting dressed everyday. No more wearing your P.J.s all day. No more tank tops. Start wearing turtlenecks tucked into your jeans… and wear a belt,” Sophie advised.

“Um, I think I need an armored vest!”

The majority of the time, I don’t mind that he’s still nursing. Sometimes it’s caused some pretty funny moments. Like, the other night when Jack and Donny were headed up to bed, and I decided to stay downstairs and watch Idol. Jack climbed out of my lap to follow Donny up the stairs. Just as he was about to climb up the first step he stopped, ran back to me, stood between my legs as I sat on the couch, pulled my nightshirt down and sucked, sucked, sucked, then ran back to Donny throwing a, “Bye!” over his shoulder. Donny said he just wanted “one for the road.”

Other times, it can be pretty inconvenient when he falls asleep and I have to carefully detach and then pray he doesn’t wake up as I transition him. And I’m pretty sure all these hormones are the reason behind my constant need to wax my face – but that’s for a whole ‘nother blog. I think what is worrying me is that I have no idea how to stop. A lot of people have said I should just let him decide. What if he decides he wants to be doing it till he’s 3? He’s already graduated from sippy cups to child cups with lids and straws, and recently he’s been pushing those aside and drinking from a lidless cup like a big boy, but he ain’t tryna give up the “bee bees.”

A lot of Moms who really advocate nursing will say, “You know, in other countries this isn’t such a big deal.”

Yeah, well, I live in America and I ain’t tryna be the mom squirting breastmilk in his thermos as he heads off to preschool!

Donny and I went to see 2012 and this trailer was shown before the movie. At the end of it, Donny turned to me and said, “That’s gonna be you and Jack.” No, it’s not! Right? RIGHT!?

Brand New

In the span of about six months my child has gone from this:

to this:

And it’s all my fault!

Last November I had a mystery shop at Aeropostale. Prior to that, I hadn’t stepped foot in that store and couldn’t tell you what they sold. It was one of those jobs where they don’t pay you a shop fee, but reimburses for the required purchase – in this case, a shirt. Kali wanted to tag along because the store was very popular with the kids in her class.

First, we had to deal with the little matter of how to pronounce the damn name. My father called it AIR-O-PO-STAL-LAY – all fancy, like he’s Madonna or something. Kali insisted that wasn’t right. I called it AIR-O-POS-TELL (rhymes with Aristotle.) Kali insisted THAT wasn’t right either.

So, I’m doing the shop and realize that I enjoy food way too much to fit anything in that store. Also, the clothing seemed to be catered towards people that actually left the house once in awhile. After holding up a few XS tees to Kali, I decided I’d make the required purchase for her and picked out a super cute orange T-shirt with AEROPOSTALE obnoxiously plastered down the side.

As we’re checking out, Kali nudges me. “Ask him!” she stage whispers.

I look at the young man ringing up the shirt. He’s wearing a tight plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans made to look like they’re dirty when they’re really not.

“My daughter wants to ask you something.”

If looks could kill they’d have been cleaning up a Nina-sized stain off the Aeropostale floor.

“How do you pronounce the name of this store?”

“AIR-O-PO-STAL” (Stal like Stalin.)

So, Kali was right.

He then flips his head, tossing back hair cut in one of those uber-trendy styles that only white boys can pull off, and says, “But we just call it Aero.”

Oh, well, excuse the fuck outta me.

And that was all it took. It’s been Aero this and Aero that ever since. I feel like pulling out one of my mother’s old standards and asking, “You got Aero money?”

For her birthday we took her to pick out some shirts. I was very happy to see the “ALL TOPS 50% OFF” sign in the window. I didn’t want to spend more than $50. We got two t-shirts, a plaid button down, and a white hoodie for just under $50 (everything was either 50% or 70% off.)

It’ a little weird watching her style change and some of it frightens me. I mean, come on! Look at that ad again. Those kids are an eating disorder and one roofy experience away from being an Abercrombie and Fitch ad!

But as long as I am in charge of picking out and paying for the clothes, this shouldn’t be a problem. The style may be older, but we’ll always remain appropriate.

And I’m already putting the brakes on this idea that only one name brand is suitable. She wanted Aeropostale flip-flops, but they were $10.

“Girl, we can go to Old Navy and get you some flip-flops.”

“But these are better.”

“Why?”

“Because they say Aeropostale!”

“Yeah, across the bottom where no one will see it. Let’s go.”

On the bright side, when she’s old enough for a part-time job, I know where to send her.

Take It or Leave It

Starting next week, with the arrival of all new (consistent!) blogs on BIOB, I’ll be posting a weekly advice column called Take It or Leave It.

Here’s how it will work:

People will write me with their problems and I will solve them.

That’s pretty much it. What? You were expecting more?

Well, you may be asking yourself, “What qualifies her to give advice?”

I’ll tell you:

1. I am awesome.

2. I am funny.

3. I can write really well so at the very least, the advice will look pretty… while being awesomely funny.

4. Multiply number 1 by 100.

And really, what qualifies anyone to give advice? A degree in psychiatry and mental wellness, you say? Psssh. Whatever.

I hear ya. Kinda. And just so I won’t bear the responsibility alone, you (yes, you!) will be involved as well. Once I post my pearls of wisdom, you will each get to vote on whether or not the lost soul should follow my advice. Take it or leave it! Get it?!

So, email me your problems. Spread the word and tell your friends to email me their problems. Make sure to give your name and location, or if you prefer to be anonymous you can sign off as Broke  in Boise, Helpless in Hawaii, Desperate in Denver, etc.

nina@blogitoutb.com

And, you’re welcome.

McDonald’s Money

The other day I was at the kitchen table, paying bills and balancing the bank account when Kali looked over my shoulder, pointed at a circled dollar amount on a sheet of paper and asked, “Is that how much money we have?”

Any parent will tell you that you always pause to figure out the best way to answer your child’s question no matter how innocent the question may be. My first instinct – sometimes to a fault – is to always tell the truth. But then you have to worry about the ramifications of telling the truth. Take Kali’s question as an example – I had to ask myself, “Did we have the talk about privacy and money? Do I have to worry that I’ll see this post on Facebook:

My Mom has $1,600 in the bank!

I realized that a simple yes or no answer might not be so simple after all, so I gave the standard Mommy reply when we need time to stall.

“Girl, go play.”

As I prepared to write this, I tried to remember what my perception of the family finances were when I was a child (without being biased by what I know now.) Did I think we were poor? I’m not sure if I felt like we were poor, but I knew we didn’t have money. At least not a lot of it. My mother always attached money to our wants.

“Ma, can we have McDonald’s?”

“You got McDonald’s money?”

“Ma, can we go to the movies?”

“You got movies money?”

I was always left with the feeling that we didn’t have any money. Of course, now I realize when my mother said, “I don’t have McDonald’s money,” she meant exactly that. She had money, just not for McDonald’s. There was never a time when we didn’t eat, we just didn’t have McDonald’s.

Even though my mother and stepfather never fought about money openly (or even stressed over it in front of us) it wasn’t hard to figure out our financial station in life. Hell, just spending any time with family and friends who had more money or turning on The Cosby Show told me that we weren’t exactly the Rockefellers.

As a parent, I worry about what kind of financial message (even silently) I’m sending to my kids. There’s very little that Kali wants that she doesn’t get. But she also knows that these things don’t come magically. We’ve had the discussion about pay, taxes, and bills. She understands that going to work means getting paid. She saw me doing side merchandising and mystery shop jobs before the holidays in order to buy the laptop she wanted for Christmas.

I’m hoping this has given her an appreciation for the things we have. But there’s a fine line. We want our kids to take care of the things they have because they know they cost money and they know that money isn’t plucked out of thin air, but we don’t want our kids worrying about money. I don’t think they should have to.

I found myself choosing my words carefully when explaining our recent move to Kali. It’s an uncomfortable sentence, but I thought, “Mommy and Daddy can no longer afford that bigger house,” was appropriate. It was the perfect segue way into how much it costs to, well, live. Bigger houses are more expensive to heat in the winter and keep cool in the summer, this means bigger monthly bills and less money left over for extras or savings, etc.

Spending habits are just that – habits. If you have poor ones, your kids are in danger of picking them up. Of course, there’s also the chance that your kid may grow up to do the exact opposite. So affected by growing up in a household where utilities were also at risk of being shut up off, a child may grow up to be super responsible with their finances to simply not repeat their parents’ mistakes. But why risk it? Even if you’re faking the funk, is it better to always put on a happy face in front of your kids when it comes to money?

No matter how tight money becomes, there’s one area in which I refuse to have my kids affected. Food. Growing up, there was four of us kids and not a lot of extras. We pretty much ate breakfast and lunch in school, and things like cereal were saved for the weekends to be devoured in front of Saturday morning cartoons. And though we weren’t denied food, there was definitely the unspoken understanding that food couldn’t be consumed just for the sake of doing it. It seemed everything had to last. There wasn’t a lot of extra snacks laying around the house.

Soda was a treat. Kool-Aid was a (cheap) staple. It always seemed to me that other people had it so much better than we did. I’d go to my cousins’ houses and marvel at the amount of Sunnydale juices in the fridge or bags of chips in the cabinet. I was fascinated when school friends could go into the kitchen and prepare a sandwich without having to ask first. To me, these folks were living large! As a result, I make sure my house is filled with the things my kids like to eat. There are very few things (snacks purchased strictly for school) that Kali has to ask for before eating. I wonder if she thinks she’s living large.

Then again, she is only 11 and 11-year-olds aren’t exactly known for being rational thinkers. The other day she asked if we were poor. I told her no and then wanted to know why she asked.

“Well, I keep asking to be a premium member of that website I like, and you keep saying no.”

So, let me this straight: you live in a nice house with nice televisions, every game system on the market, tons of video games and DVDs, you have nice clothes and your own laptop and you think we’re poor because I won’t pay for unlimited access to a site where Chester Chester, Child Molesters could be lurking? *facepalm*

But maybe this means I’m doing something right. Maybe this means that she has all the understanding of money one needs to have at 11: things cost money and sometimes Mommy and Daddy will buy you the things you need/want because they can and it’s appropriate and sometimes they won’t because they can’t or won’t. Then again, maybe she was just being a smartass.

So, how much info is too much info? Should your children know what’s in your bank account? Should they be aware of exactly how much money it takes to keep the roof over their heads, the lights on, and food on the table?